by Jennifer Margulis<\/p>\n
This article originally appeared in the February 2012 issue of\u00a0More.<\/em><\/p>\n The Scents of Success\u00a0<\/strong>In the Carmel, California, showroom of Ajne perfumery, the ambience manages to be both opulently baroque and coolly high tech, with filigreed flacons and gilt-edged antiques surrounding a computer that helps visitors choose the right fragrance for their personality and body chemistry. But downstairs in the lab, the atmosphere turns clinical. Here, co-owner Jane Hendler blends essential oils into what she calls liquid art. This morning she lines up 48 different oils\u2014vials of lavender, sandalwood, pink grapefruit, agarwood (about $1,800 an ounce wholesale, more costly than gold)\u2014and, working quietly with pipettes and beakers, produces a new batch of the signature fragrance she developed exclusively for Rob Lowe.<\/p>\n For Jane and her husband and co-owner, Rex Rombach, this 21st-century perfumery, with its clientele of celebrities, hotels and spas, is the culmination of a dream they had one evening nine years ago on California\u2019s Mount Shasta. As the couple sat by the fireplace in a rustic cabin, they talked long into the night about wanting to find a deeper level of meaning in their work. Jane, a marketing executive for a jewelry-design company, shared childhood memories of breathing in the heady scents of roses, lilacs and magnolias growing near her grandmother\u2019s house. Then she said aloud something she\u2019d been mulling for a while: \u201cI want to be a perfumer.\u201d<\/p>\n Rex, the owner of a hair-products distribution firm, confessed a dream of his own: He longed to grow things and work with his hands. The couple started fantasizing about making perfume from the oils of organic plants they would cultivate on a three-acre property they owned near Carmel. Eight months later, Jane quit her job and enrolled in the Santa Cruz, California, College of Botanical Healing Arts to become a master essential-oil therapist. Rex sold his company, and they turned their land into an organic farm planted with lavender, bergamot and yuzu. In 2005, with a $750,000 initial investment, they launched their company, Ajne\u00a0(ajne.com)<\/a>, from a 300-square-foot store in Carmel. Rex took charge of the accounts and designed the recyclable packaging. Jane hired her best friend, Kathy Pape, as the public relations director. Pape reached out to her Hollywood and media connections, and Ajne took off. \u201cThe first year was idyllic,\u201d Jane says.<\/p>\n Hoping to boost sales, they relocated to Carmel\u2019s swankiest street, Ocean Avenue; that set them back more than $96,000 in annual rent. But the move did not produce the anticipated revenue, and the pair fought constantly about how to expand the business. On one occasion, Rex grew so frantic about the company\u2019s finances, he wrote Jane a lengthy resignation letter (though he never actually gave it to her). \u201cThere were plenty of times one of us slept in the guest cottage,\u201d Jane says. Finally, just as each was almost ready to quit, they agreed to a radical scale-back.<\/p>\n Today their showroom is in a different Carmel location: on Mission Street, where the rent is more reasonable. Their accounts look a lot healthier\u2014$800,000 in gross revenues for 2010 and a 5,000 percent increase in Internet sales. And both say their personal relationship has deepened. \u201cThere\u2019s comfort, excitement and joy in creating together,\u201d says Jane.<\/p>\n \u201cI love spending time with Jane and taking on challenges together,\u201d says Rex. \u201cShe grabs on to the joy of life.\u201d<\/p>\n At the end of her morning blending session, Jane leaves her lab and bounds up the stairs to Rex\u2019s office. \u201cTry this,\u201d she says, dabbing scent on his wrists. They both sniff, and Jane nods approval: Rob Lowe will be so pleased.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em>The Cupcake Couple<\/strong><\/p>\n One night in April 2008, Pam Turkin returned to Detroit from a business trip in New York carrying a box of cupcakes from the Magnolia Bakery. \u201cThere are people waiting in line there and spending $3 for one!\u201d she told her husband, Todd. An avid baker (\u201cIt\u2019s an art form for me,\u201d says Pam), she had been observing the country\u2019s cupcake craze during her travels and had noted that no one was selling the treats in Michigan. So, she thought, Why not the Turkins? That night she told Todd, \u201cWe\u2019ve got to do this!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCupcakes are girly,\u201d he said. He loved them, but did other men? Could Detroit\u2019s shattered economy support a high-end cupcake business? Todd, formerly the COO of a shirt–manufacturing company but at that time unemployed, was dubious, so Pam shelved the idea. Then the marketing company she worked for asked her to relocate to Florida. To stave off the anxiety she felt about moving, she started baking cupcakes. Every tray she set out for her family disappeared in minutes. Soon she had a brisk side business selling to friends. After a batch found its way to a group of federal judges in Detroit\u2014all of whom wanted to know where they could buy more\u2014Todd reconsidered: The city was ready for cupcakes after all.<\/p>\n