Nearly six years ago, Lo had a dream. She was working as a bureaucrat, an accountant to be exact, in the Vietnamese government. Tucked away in a small, stuffy cubicle in one of Hanoi's many faceless office buildings, she dreamed of a different reality. She had always loved fashion, liked working with her hands, making small hand embroidery. One day she told her family she would have a shop someday selling linen clothing. Some of them laughed and told her to be more realistic.
Then covid hit. Lo left her job and returned to her home province—a little farming village not far from the sea, surrounded by verdant green rice fields. There for days, then weeks, then months, she worked on patterns, designs, embroidery. For anyone who doesn't know, hand embroidery is one of the most intricate and time-consuming artforms in the world. A single petal of a flower can take hours, and Lo would sit hunched over a little embroidery hoop going stitch by stitch for as long as it took.
The villagers, who knew Lo from childhood, were nosy and asked questions. Why did she leave her job? What was she going to do for money? Why was she wasting her time on little dead-end craft projects? But Lo saw the bigger picture.
Eventually, she found a seamstress nearby who could make shirts. She bought a little linen fabric and made just a few, all she could afford. For the first year, she sold shirts one by one, mostly through Facebook. Lo told me in the first period, she wasted thousands of dollars just to find the right natural fabrics.
Slowly, she found customers too. With what little savings she had, plus a small loan from a relative, she took the leap and started a small shop in the tourist district of Hanoi, the Old Quarter. It was called Lo's Corner. Still, nobody believed in her, not even her brother.
For the first few months, she hardly made any sales. Her shop was so small, many people on the street would just pass it by. She hardly made enough to cover rent. But Lo never quit. She lost sleep, and some nights she would cry over her circumstances. But she never lost sight of her dream.
Today, Lo's Corner is the most popular linen shop in all of Hanoi, with thousands of customers a year visiting her from all around the world. Lo herself is so magnetic, and so kind, many people return to Hanoi and make it a point to see her. There are customers whom she only met once, years ago, and she still remembers their name.
Her attention to detail, and her nose for quality, are second to none. She now makes linen clothing for both men and women, and the craftsmanship is absolutely beautiful. When you wear one of Lo's shirts, you know it.
More than anything else, Lo is a shining, brilliant example of never giving up on your dreams. Her kindness and attentiveness with customers, combined with a grit and tenacity like nothing I've ever seen, has been nothing but an inspiration to me.
I met Lo by chance, only days after I began Fundamental Artifact, before it even had a name. I was in Hanoi to have a suit made, and on my way back to the hotel, I saw Lo in the back of her shop at 10pm, drinking a beer. I felt something in my spirit, but I didn't know my life was about to change.
Our relationship began with Lo telling me no. No to selling her shirts. No to making my shirts. No to working together. No to helping me find a factory. A few weeks ago, I told this story to Paul Quinn, author of The Big Ask. You can read the full details of my rejection there.
The only thing Lo said yes to was being friends. Little did Lo know, I too knew something about having a big dream, and not giving up. After I left, I kept pestering her, and when that didn't work, I returned to pester her in person. "We have to work together," I told her, "It's important."
Eventually, she relented. She connected me with her tailors, and in an act of striking generosity, produced the entire first run of linen shirts for Fundamental Artifact, at no benefit to her. When I asked her why she was doing me such a favor, she just said it looked like I needed help.
To this day, she continues to assist me in fabric selection, garment production, and quality control. We've visited many markets together, and she's slapped more than a few fabrics out of my hand, telling me they are "terrible." She's introduced me to other artists as well, tea makers, potters, blacksmiths — she knows everybody in Hanoi. Fundamental Artifact simply would not exist in anything like its current form were it not for Lo.
So with that I say: Lo, from a fellow delusional dreamer who will never give up, thank you for everything.
Oh, and her brother, the one who didn't believe in Lo's dream. Well, after watching Lo he decided to start his own linen business selling bedsheets online. That's the power of a dream.
