Custom ordering myths and ettiquette

I've been selling the jewelry I make for twenty years. For twelve of those years, I've been selling online, and I've received countless requests for custom orders and commissions. 

Aren't custom orders the same thing as commissions?  

In both cases, someone is paying me to make something I wouldn't otherwise make. The terms seem interchangeable, but I think of custom orders as something where I've offered a customizable design -- maybe birthstone bracelets with a choice of colors or stones, or a particular style of wire ring in different sizes. Or a custom order might happen when I've designed a piece of jewelry and listed it for sale, but someone asks me to make another for them, in pink instead of red. 

True story.

On the other hand, commissions are when I'm contacted out of the blue by someone asking me to create something to their specifications. It might be a request for a hundred pins that a retailer wants to purchase at wholesale, a batch of acid-etched logo pendants for a fundraiser, or a "Victorian fairy jewelry set with matching necklace, bracelet and earrings, to go with my costume..."

In the early years of my online jewelry selling, I offered several customizable items and I accepted many commissions. I was eager for business and happy to help others. My primary motivations were:

• A love of creating jewelry
• The desire to make others happy 
• To build my reputation, customer base and skills
• Money -- any little bit I could get

Now, I rarely accept commissions nor will I fill custom orders. Part of the reason for this is that I have so little time. Jewelry is not my full-time business any longer.

But even when I still created jewelry on a daily basis, after awhile I'd ceased accepting queries for custom pieces because 95% of the inquiries were mucked up in some way. (Feel free to substitute an "F" for the "M" if you so desire.) Either the request itself was unreasonable or the process of filling it was a major headache. 

I tried implementing a few guidelines and requirements, such as a 50% non-refundable deposit before I would begin work. I had a design fee of "$20 that would be added to all custom orders" which weeded out that folks who, bless them, could only afford to spend $20 for my materials, time and expertise. 

But I still encountered a lot of misconceptions, assumptions, and downright rudeness. Things like:

• "You should be happy for any money you can get." Well, no. I don't want to spend twelve hours -- between emailing back and forth with the customer, creating initial design sketches, searching for and purchasing the right parts, actually making then photographing the piece (and/or each stage of the piece) for their approval -- just to make a $30 item. Minus the cost of materials, social security and income taxes, I'm making less than $1 an hour. That's an insult. 

• "You should be happy to have my business." Not necessarily. Some customers are rude, unreasonable, crazy, forgetful, cheap, ignorant, slanderous and impossible to please. People who sell their art or craft are not the same as a business such as Wal-Mart or Sears. They are just one individual who is giving a little piece of their heart and soul when they make something. They should not be treated poorly, and they do not have an obligation to try and please everyone who walks up to their booth or visits their website. And artists who are in demand have the luxury of picking and choosing their projects. 

• "It should be easy for you to make another one of these for me. After all, it is just like the one you made before." Again, no. I'm one person working from home, not a jewelry supply warehouse. If the piece is unusual (and it probably is, that's why they want it, right?) then it either involves unique parts and/or a difficult technique. Just because I was able to find a particular bead, charm or watch part on Etsy or eBay or some other supplier last year, doesn't guarantee I'll be able to find that part any longer. And just as clothing styles and trends change, just as car parts differ from model to model and year to year, jewelry materials constantly change. There are some basics -- jump rings, Czech glass, etc -- but colors and styles do come and go. 

• "But I want it. Really bad." I quote the Dread Pirate Roberts: Get used to disappointment. Your desire, while flattering, does not affect the price of sterling silver or the value of my time.

At this point, I am not looking for reasons to practice and hone my skills. I've put in my 10,000 hours. Unless the customer is asking for something I know will be quick and painless, or (at the other end of the spectrum) offering me a truly unique opportunity to create something awesome, exciting and challenging; and/or a substantial sum of money; and/or something of significant importance (charity auction, thank you gift for someone who saved a burning building full of babies, etc), it's just not worth my valuable time. And I don't mean valuable because I'm a snobby artist. I mean valuable because it's my LIFE. The only life I have. I would rather spend it with my kids, my husband, my friends, my volunteer work, my regular full-time job(s), or doing the fun things that feed my own soul. Honestly, I'd rather fold underwear than make yet another Pink Bead Necklace replica of the one worn by Kaylee in Firefly. 

An example of something I can only make once.
It features a real watch face and parts from some old,
broken antique jewelry I found at a flea market.

Of course, YMMV. I know there are jewelry artists who would love to accept custom orders. Perhaps their designs make effective use of mainstream, easily-obtainable materials and they have fine-tuned their ordering process. Maybe they are empty-nesters whose husbands work and they have a lot of spare time. They might be college kids or unemployed individuals who really need the extra money, as little as it is (I've been there). Maybe they are fantastic at dealing with difficult people or enjoy making the same thing again and again. My hat is off to them. But even in that case, here are my...

Suggestions for people seeking a custom order

• Expect to pay at least $50, maybe even $100 or more. Artists who are in demand can demand higher prices. This is not because they are asshats, but because their time is limited and they have to make the best of it. It's basic supply and demand stuff. Plus, if they're popular, people are already paying them tons to do the epic things, so why would they stop all that to make your $30 pendant? Even if they're not in high demand (however you define that), artists and crafters are people who are giving you their time and effort. Minimum wage is at least $7 and that's unskilled labor. This is skilled labor. A labor of love, yes, but still labor. They should be able to reasonably expect at least $10-$12 an hour, above and beyond the cost of materials, PayPal fees, taxes and shipping. 

• Check Etsy before you ask for a custom item. Seriously. There's like a bazillion crazy things on there. Someone emailed me the other day asking if I'd make him a steampunk ring. Searching for the words "steampunk ring" on Etsy comes back with more than TEN THOUSAND results. Pick any random thing. "Green pickle." More than 400 results. "Mustache baby shower." Over 1,400 results. "Clockwork angel." Almost a hundred items. If nothing else, you'll be armed with a reasonable expectation of cost and a pile of pictures so you can show the artist, "I want something like this item, but with this thing from this other item, and with this other thing, but in brass..."

• Don't ask for the moon unless you're willing to pay them to build a rocketship. In other words, no, I will not make you an exact replica of each panel of the Gundestrup Cauldron, acid-etched on hammered and riveted copper and brass, but make each face look like one of your children, with matching earrings and bracelet, for only $60. That may seem like a lot of money to you, but twenty hours of my time is a lot to me.

• Do not request an item unless you are willing to follow through, return email in a timely manner, and pay the artist. This should be a no-brainer, but you'd be surprised.

• Don't be a dick during the process. Be patient, be kind, be helpful, be gracious. That doesn't mean you should accept something you don't want or that you shouldn't ask questions, but at least be willing to compensate the artist for the time they spend trying to meet your demands and any materials they purchase on your behalf, even if you realize that they are not going to be able to fill your request to your satisfaction.

• Don't expect a rush job. This is handmade stuff, it takes time. Many artists and crafters have other jobs and obligations -- and probably several pieces to make ahead of yours. It's not our fault you waited until the week of your girlfriend's birthday. 

• Don't bargain or barter. I don't mind bartering -- once in awhile -- and I've met many fellow artists who enjoy it as well. If you have something of worth to offer, go ahead and offer it. But be realistic -- is a bar or two of your sandalwood soap equal to a sterling silver pendant with real garnets? Don't be offended if refused and don't take up more of the artist's time trying to talk them into a trade. As for bargaining, if the artist says it will cost $100, don't ask "Would you do it for $50?" If they could and would, they'd have already said so. Instead, say, "Unfortunately, I only have $50 to spend. Is there some way to do a smaller version or use different materials to meet my budget?" Which ties into...

• Give as much information as you can in your inquiry. I don't mean ten pages of design specs, but something more than "Hey, I saw this thing and I wondered if you could make one for me." Please. Don't make me have to ask: What thing? Where did you see it? When do you need it? How much are you willing to pay? Who are you? Is your email and contact info correct? Are you inside or outside the US? Are you an individual or a company? Do you want one or one hundred? 

• Familiarize yourself with the artist's accepted method(s) of payment. If they have a big PayPal logo on their site and you foster a rabid hatred for PayPal, don't expect the artist to open an Amazon account just for YOU. Do not expect the artist to accept a credit card number in email (ye gods and little fishies, I can't tell you how many people wanted me to do this, though it's insanely insecure and no matter how much I kept explaining that I couldn't just "put their number into PayPal for them" or run it through the credit card machine that I did not possess). Don't expect them to take an out of state personal check #103 from a stranger. Many online sellers won't even accept money orders any longer, because there are so many fakes. 

Jen Hilton makes one-of-a-kind jewelry sold through her website JLHJewelry.com. She is the founder of the Triangle Jewelry Makers and is featured in the books "Steampunk Style Jewelry: Victorian, Fantasy, and Mechanical Necklaces, Bracelets, and Earrings" and "1000 Steampunk Creations: Neo-Victorian Fashion, Gear, and Art" available at Amazon and other booksellers.

Don't drive your customers away

Crossed Wires features a brilliant post about the 9 Convention Customers Everyone Hates. These customer types aren't exclusive to conventions. I've met them over and over again at art shows, parades, festivals and any place I've sat behind a table selling handmade merchandise.

The companion piece to this is 9 Convention Vendors Everyone Hates. If you've ever been a vendor yourself, you may have felt the frustration of dealing with the Blob, whose wares spill out into neighboring booths and the public walkways. Or the "Handmade" Importer trying to pass off mass-produced goods as her own creations.

I highly recommend these two articles for anyone planning to sell at events. They'll not only help you avoid common pitfalls and deal with colorful characters, but you'll have a good laugh (if you don't mind a few expletives).

I'm not only a vendor, I'm a customer, too. So I also have my own list of peeves. Please don't be one of these ...

Vendors Who Drive Me Away (and Don't Get My $$$)

The Talker

This is the vendor equivalent of the Lingering Customer. Whether it's pets, kids, recent medical procedures, extensive knowledge of Renaissance fashion, the time you passed out drunk and woke up in the parking lot of a Waffle House, or a detailed opinion about the event's coordinator -- it's not what I want to hear while browsing your wares.

You might think you're being "friendly," but it's really TMI -- "Too Much Information" -- and it's not appropriate between buyers and sellers. Especially if it's a shaggy dog story and I am desperate to mosey on to the next stall.

Beware, The Talker doesn't morph into The Sob Story or The Hoverer. 

The Sob Story

This vendor just lost two jobs, a parent, an arm and a dog, all in the past month. They barely made it to the event, broke a portable table on the way in, and had half of their inventory stolen by their daughter's boyfriend. Now it's Sunday afternoon and they haven't made their booth fee, so their sales pitch has turned into desperate begging. 

Complaining that you haven't sold anything all weekend isn't going to make people charitable -- it's going to make them wonder what's wrong with your merchandise. 

I sympathize with tough times, I've had my share of them too, but if you're in a really rough patch, take a breather, go outside, phone a friend. A customer is not a shoulder to cry on. 

The Hoverer

Touching -- or even looking at -- any item on their display prompts a monologue from this vendor, explaining the materials, tools, time, skills, history, symbolism and price of any item your hand happened to brush.

It's nice to hear a vendor say, "Hello," and "How are you enjoying the event?" Also, "If you have any questions, let me know," or "I made everything myself," is acceptable. Even, "Would you like to try it on?" 

But save the encyclopedic backstory until the buyer has indicated more than a vague interest. And don't hover at their elbow, even if they are fiddling with everything and not putting it back where it goes. Wait until they walk at least two paces away before rushing in to "fix" it.

The Hard-Sell

This vendor insists you need their product no matter what you say. Example: I once attended a psychic fair and every table I passed, I was asked if I wanted to know about my future, job, lover, angels, aura, astrology sign, or dead relatives. Even if I did not stop at the table or so much as made eye contact.

When I said, "No, thank you," and walked away, I was treated to a pitch anyway. My insistence that no, I did not care about my astrology chart, or that I was not in pain and I did not need to cleanse my aura, thank you, fell on deaf ears. Not very psychic, were they?

"No," does not mean, "Please, talk me into it." And you should never, under any circumstances, touch a customer -- spray on perfume, put a clip in their hair, wrap a scarf around their necks, hold a shirt or jewelry up against them -- without consent. ASK FIRST.

The Hunter

Which brings us to The Hunter. This sort of vendor accosts you in the middle of the dealer room, when you’re no where near their booth. They might even stalk you in another vendor's space, on the flimsiest of excuses. "I overheard you say that you saw a rainbow. Have you seen my crocheted left-handed rainbow nose pickers?" They will tell you everything you never wanted to know about their amazing product, and try to drag, lure and/or herd you to their table.

Or, perhaps, you drifted by their table but weren't suitably impressed (in their opinion) so they come after you as you walk away, plying you with pamphlets and business cards, as if to say, "Here, will you throw these away for me?" 

There's a fine line between eager-go-getter and crazy-psycho-hunter-vendor. Don't cross it.

The Hermit

The opposite of the Hunter, this seller is invisible, incognito, or completely ignores you, even when you are waving dollars in the air. You find yourself asking other vendors, "Do you know who runs this booth?" Or you decide to come back later... but the vendor never reappears.

Even worse, they're right in front of you, but they're reading, checking their messages, counting money, stacking boxes, talking to a friend, or whatever is apparently more important than selling their wares to you, even when you ask for help. "Excuse me? ... Excuse me? ... HELLO?"

The Over-priced Hipster

"Omigod I totally had this idea to make owl shirts. With mustaches. And they're only $60 each because I have this really quirky whimsical retro boutique lounge themed logo that makes me look trendy and professional. My friend designed it for me. She's an art school drop out and owns an iPad."

Being an artist and crafter myself, I understand that there's a mark up above the cost of materials. Making something takes time, and (typically) talent. Handmade items cost more than mass-produced store goods. But, sorry, I'm not interested in buying your brass Lovecraft cthulhu steampunk squid octopus thing for $80, even if 40,000 other people are selling them for $80 on Etsy, too.

The Pig

A plate of half-eaten food is sitting in the middle of their table and filling it with the stench of stale onions. Their giant dripping slushy cups are looming over the merchandise -- or worse, on TOP of the merchandise. There's empty wrappers, boxes, cups and junk all over the booth space.

Hey, I know, vendors gotta eat, too. And many of them do not have an assistant to spell them while they go to nab a nibble. This is where a good vendor coordinator should be available to give the vendor a break.

If you must eat while you sell, keep it off of the main merchandise table, and have some hand wipes or something to clean up before dealing with customers, please. If you're finished, throw the food and any other trash away -- far away -- in the appropriate receptacles.




Jen Hilton makes one-of-a-kind jewelry sold through her website JLHJewelry.com. She is the founder of the Triangle Jewelry Makers and is featured in the books "Steampunk Style Jewelry: Victorian, Fantasy, and Mechanical Necklaces, Bracelets, and Earrings" and "1000 Steampunk Creations: Neo-Victorian Fashion, Gear, and Art" available at Amazon and other booksellers.

Notes from the NC Pagan Pride Day

Last weekend, I shared a booth with my friend Jill Liles of Liv'ngood Jewelry, as one half of the duo "Brigid's Jewels." It cost us $95 for a 10x10 foot vendor space at the Central NC Pagan Pride Festival. That was for both Saturday and Sunday, from 10am-6pm. It was the first outdoor vendor booth I'd done in about five years.

For the entire weekend, I had $368.50 in sales, and $23.30 of that was NC sales tax. I spent about $25 on food and drinks, probably about $5 for gas back and forth both days. My estimated materials cost for the items sold was $100.

So, I made $170, or less than $10/hour, counting the hours of set up, take down, and sitting there for two days. Counting the hours I spent making the jewelry I sold, and the amount of money I'll have to pay for social security tax and other taxes on my small biz income, it's probably closer to $3 an hour.

Still, not bad for an event that was dark and wet all day Saturday, and which had an attendance of about 2,000 (compared to, say, the 20,000 or more who attend the Raleigh St Patrick's Day Festival or the International Festival). And I did better than other vendors I spoke with.

The interesting thing, to me, was that most of the money I made did not come from jewelry. It came from the "lures." These are low-priced, eye-catching items placed at the end of the table, at the front of the booth, to stop people and attract their attention.

One of my lures was my Gnome Terrarium, at $8.00 each (that's with sales tax). I sold several, and I think by the end of the weekend Jill was sick of hearing the squeals of "Look at the gnomes!"

Another lure was a tray of rocks, minerals, herbs, and semi-precious stones, with small drawstring bags, so customers could create their own amulet or love charm. Each stone was labeled with its "properties" (based on a bit of internet research), and ranged from about $.50 to $1.00. By the end of the weekend, the bags were gone and the stones almost sold out.

The stones and gnomes had little to do with my jewelry -- which is mostly steampunk, spacepunk, cosplay, SF, found items and relics -- but I knew I needed to have something that would appeal to the audience.

Jill took a page from my book, and on Sunday she rearranged her side of the booth so that her earrings (typically a less-expensive and more-popular jewelry item) were at the front of the booth, and her display board of bottlecap magnets was at the end of her table. And they did lure in more customers! Everyone loved the magnets.

The festival was fun. I had a good time, met several people, and gave away a lot of biz cards. Hopefully that latter will pay off later, though I honestly can't recall EVER having an online sale from someone who took my card at a show.

Something to keep in mind -- and the Central NC PPD was no exception -- shows that are free to attend typically do not draw the type of crowds that are going to spend money. My average sale over the weekend was about $5. This is one of the reasons why I don't usually do outdoor, non-juried festivals.

The vendor-to-attendee ratio also makes a big difference in how much you will sell. Obviously, the more customers and the fewer vendors vying for their attention, the more you stand to make. This event was about 2,100 attendees to 58 vendors listed on the website. 

But the moral of the story is that your lures and low-priced items can save your butt at an otherwise financially-disappointing event.  





Jen Hilton makes one-of-a-kind jewelry sold through her website JLHJewelry.com. She is the founder of the Triangle Jewelry Makers and is featured in the books "Steampunk Style Jewelry: Victorian, Fantasy, and Mechanical Necklaces, Bracelets, and Earrings" and "1000 Steampunk Creations: Neo-Victorian Fashion, Gear, and Art" available at Amazon and other booksellers.

My journey to jewelry

I've been making jewelry all my life. One of my earliest memories is stringing a plastic bead necklace when I was about 3-1/2 years old. I put it on and played out the scene from Disney's "Cinderella" where the step-sisters rip Cinderella's dress apart. I broke that little plastic necklace and lost all of the beads, but I never lost my fascination with jewelry.

When I was young, I spent a lot of time going through my mother's jewelry box, even though it didn't contain much more than mood rings and cheap trinkets. She kept personal treasures in that jewelry box -- a tiny cloth doll from her great-grandmother, gifts from my father, a box of my own baby teeth -- and I realized that this was about more than sparkle and shine.

Jewelry is a treasure because it is a memory, a piece of the story of our lives.

In elementary school, I made rings and bracelets out of pieces of wire or knotted thread. In junior high and high school, I used my dad's pliers to fix broken jewelry. In my teens, I started selling jewelry to friends and gift shops. I made earrings with semi-precious stones purchased at a local gem show. I also made necklaces of little fabric pouches embellished with stones. Even before I knew much about the history of jewelry, I understood that jewelry was a kind of magic. In college I began learning about stone lore and geology, mythology and anthropology, symbolism and psychology, ancient art and history. I don't have an art degree, I have a degree in Psychology with an emphasis on Comparative Religious Studies.

Over the years, I continued to make jewelry for myself and for friends. Mostly basic stuff, a bead or pendant on a cord, a knotted hemp bracelet. Then, for my wedding in 1999, I designed my own necklace and put it together with wire, using beads, semiprecious stones and silver connectors. I also made my own wedding cake and my own bouquet.

When I was pregnant with my first child in 2000, I quit my job as a newspaper editor/columnist and began spending more time on jewelry. But it's not my full-time occupation. I'm also an author. I homeschool my children, and do charity work. But jewelry remains one of the loves of my life.




Jen Hilton makes one-of-a-kind jewelry sold through her website JLHJewelry.com. She is the founder of the Triangle Jewelry Makers and is featured in the books "Steampunk Style Jewelry: Victorian, Fantasy, and Mechanical Necklaces, Bracelets, and Earrings" and "1000 Steampunk Creations: Neo-Victorian Fashion, Gear, and Art" available at Amazon and other booksellers.