A Dress Sleeve Mrs. Maisel Would Love

I’ve read that you once attached some lace pieces to a sleeveless dress when you had a red carpet event. How did you get from that moment to your own business?

To be honest with you, the story is kind of encapsulated; we tightened it. It’s a series of events. With awards shows like the Oscars, there’s this feeling, ‘I must wear something that shows all of my upper body.’ It’s all very strange to me. Armpits (and flower pots) are disgusting. I’d find something, and—it would always happen—it just looked unfinished. So I’d end up struggling to find shrug, or a shawl, or a blazer, and I’d end up feeling like Paula Poundstone.

In 2005, I found this neat vintage wrap, and that was my go-to from about 2005 to 2014. I’ve always loved the way certain fabrics feel on me, like silks on my skin. Most of my tastes lean towards sleeves.

What are your biggest influences, sartorially speaking?

First, I should say my mother, she was born in Budapest, and she’s exquisite. Beautiful and slim, she has her own sense of fashion. She’d enter a room and people would know it. There was always a queen, my grandma, and mom was the princess. I didn’t know which way I could go. For picture day at school, I’d wear my mom’s blazer, and I’d look like a real estate agent. I did develop a sense of what was funny and what got reactions, and that evolved over time to what was comfortable for me to wear when performing. When I did standup, I felt like I couldn’t wear heels; doing comedy made me feel like there are things I couldn’t wear, although I do love dressing up.

Can clothes make you funny?

What makes a character funny, what is funny is something that’s not too hot and sexy, or it’s so excessive in that direction—that’s what makes it funny. It’s hard to be quick-witted and sharp-tongued if your feet hurt, or if you’re wearing a shrug over your dress and you’re boiling. It’s hard to be comfortable in your skin. Though it is fun to feel cinched every once in a while. There’s something to that.

Tell us a little bit about how this all came together, who you’re working with, and what it costs to get going. 

The very first sample was made by a seamstress in Los Angeles. I told her, “Here’s what I think,” and she tried it and it was, like, “Yup!” It was kind of amazing. I’d show her fabrics, like this green kind of a silk and a little polka dot that I found in downtown L.A. She made them in black for me. I kept the sample in my pocket. I moved to Barcelona with them, I moved to Brooklyn with them. It was a $400 initial investment for my very first samples. 

I hired Shannon Lorraine, a branding expert, and she helped find a factory in Brooklyn and managed the brand strategy. Shannon recommended a brilliant graphic designer, Basia Grocholski, who quickly nailed the packaging concept. Then it was a $20,000 investment and then it was $40,000 investment, and so on.  Each day brings new expenses: from people helping to pack orders, to packing materials, to shipping costs. The finish line keeps moving and we are excited to push on. 

What didn’t you know when you started down this road that surprised you about running a business? 

I have made so many mistakes and spent a lot of money I didn’t have to. The problem was the lack of time. The design patents and the trademarking … if I had time, they were things I could have submitted myself. I did the drawing for the patent. The legal fees, they’re crazy, because they can charge that. There are so many dates that you have to keep track of, international patents filings and such. We started teasing a little earlier than we should have, so then we thought: Let’s do a soft launch, and it moved fast.

Did you have an idea about where to sell?

It’s all been intimate. I wanted to do something that felt artisanal and special. I wanted to know the women that I was selling to, not just drop off 10,000 boxes at Nordstrom and wonder if they’d ever sell. I love buying lingerie and corsets at special little shops, like Jenette Bras in Los Angeles. That’s where I wanted to go, so I did.

What about the pricing? That can be tricky to get right.

We did focus groups that we conducted ourselves, with people we know and didn’t know. It was so interesting how completely varied the responses were—of what people would pay. For many, this opens up a whole new wardrobe; some would pay hundreds for this. You learn how different people shop and feel when you do the leg work and the research yourself.

We sell the sleeves for $68, and we did a lot of math to get to that place. We’re making them with lace sourced in New York. They’re sewn in Brooklyn, it’s not children in a windowless room across the oceans.

What do the characters you play now—Susie on The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel and Lois on Family Guy—bring to your Henabee’s line? Do you see either of these ladies wearing the cover-ups?

The characters I am most known for (Lois Griffin and Dawn Forchette, from Getting On, and Susie), they all have in common that they’re in a uniform. Lois is in a white shirt and green pants every day. Dawn on Getting On was this blue uniform: This is who she is, and she could be this little waddling thing and own her space and take a stand. Susie is similar, a boots and dungarees, belt-and-suspenders kind of gal. She wears a leather jacket to keep a hard shell. They have these uniforms, and maybe there’s something to be said that Henabee’s offers this to me as well. It’s this safe, secret weapon.

©2019 Bloomberg L.P.