Rachel Weeks ’07
From the moment my older sister brought home her women’s studies textbooks, I knew I was a feminist. Even as a high schooler, I was politically conscious and started my school’s first “Women’s Studies” Club. I wanted to change the world with my work, but I struggled to find the right intersection between my personal and professional interests. Fashion and feminism are often arbitrarily at odds. The beauty industry can place unrealistic pressures on women, but I believed fashion could be empowering. Through my Women’s Studies major at Duke, I was able to have a nuanced conversation about these concepts and re-negotiate their differences in a new light.
My academic interests were set before I got to Duke, but it was uncertain how I would translate that into a meaningful career. I thought I might be a journalist. I did an internship at Bust Magazine and spent the fall of my junior year doing the Duke in New York-Arts and Media program. Then I thought I might be a lawyer, but dropped out of my LSAT prep class after doing an internship with the Women’s Edge Coalition (now Women Thrive Worldwide). For my first three years at Duke, I had no idea what I wanted to do. With every new endeavor I tried, I thought “Maybe this is it.” My internship at Women’s Edge solidifed that my heart was in the right place, but I hadn’t yet found my calling. You can spend a lot of time chasing the wrong dream, and despite the uncertainty, I learned to trust my gut.
I was writing my senior thesis on the intersection of fashion and feminism – how to make the fashion industry more socially conscious and benefit women who manufacture clothing around the world – when I applied for a Fulbright Scholarship to study the industry in Sri Lanka. The government and garment industry in Sri Lanka markets itself as a haven for fair labor and women’s empowerment. They call it “garments without guilt.” Production costs in Sri Lanka are not the lowest, but they hope their ethos of corporate social responsibility will outweigh the higher costs.
While doing my research in Sri Lanka, I acted on my instincts and decided to utilize my research and relationships in an entirely new way. Instead of simply writing the standard Fulbright report, I took the plunge into entrepreneurship. I decided to launch my own socially-responsible collegiate apparel line with a mission to bring fashion and fair wages to colleges nationwide. I hopped around factories, made my first samples and School House was born. The timing for School House could not have been better. Collegiate apparel showed a lot of potential as college bookstores began to transition from book stores to spirit shops. Women’s collegiate clothing was largely ignored, and I set out to create a brand young, fashion-conscious consumers could feel good about buying and wearing.
I learned the ins and outs of manufacturing on my own. I read a Business for Dummies-like book and found a template for a business plan online. My liberal arts education proved invaluable during this process, as it trained me to be a critical yet original thinker. At Duke, I was forced to have an informed opinion and to argue for it; the other details I could figure out on my own.
My internships were also very important to my future as an entrepreneur. Being in a traditional work environment is very grounding; it’s humbling to be at the bottom of the ladder. I had to figure out how an organization works and how to gain respect. As a young female entrepreneur working in Asia, I used those lessons to build clout among my cohorts. Studying abroad in Mexico was also great; it got me out of my comfort zone. I learned to ask, “Who am I? What value do I bring to this situation? How will this impact my learning?” In business, you have to learn to ask the right questions.
Having good mentors is also crucial to success, and sometimes you can find them in unusual ways. I met my mentor in Sri Lanka when he answered an ad I put in the newspaper. He told me I needed two things to get started: sample product and a first order. That advice was much needed direction when I was still trying to figure out exactly how I was going to make School House work. I worked with Jim Wilkerson, director of the Duke Stores Operations, while planning a party my senior year. Just a few years later, Duke Stores placed our first order - the largest order it had ever placed with a first-time vendor.
Business is an art, not a science. I’ve learned to be insanely resourceful. Furthermore, entrepreneurship is not glamorous. I stored that first order in my parents’ garage and drove it to Duke myself in a Ryder truck. I’m proud because School House proved living wage was viable business model. Our Sri Lankan factory became more competitive and took on more clients because of our fair wage mission. And despite moving our manufacturing to North Carolina this year, our legacy continues in Sri Lanka.
Moving manufacturing to my home state of North Carolina has been a truly gratifying experience. All our cotton is grown here; all our cardboard boxes are made here. And even though a living wage is much higher here than in Sri Lanka, we save more on indirect costs like shipping and duty. We believe we can be successful in North Carolina. Doing business here has meant making significant investments in local factories, but it’s all worth it to know our clothing is the first in the Duke Stores to actually be made in Durham.
I didn’t take the traditional path and there were times when I felt pressure -- pressure from the Duke culture and from my parents. I lived with my parents for two years after I got back from Sri Lanka. I had to have confidence in myself in the face of whispers from my friends. My dad even offered me money to stop pursuing School House and go to law school.
In the end, the most important thing is to find something that gets you out of bed in the morning. My business sometimes pays the price for our socially-responsible mission, but it’s the mission that gets me out of bed in the morning, and I’m so fortunate to have found that at age 25.