The little town of San Miguel de Allende in Mexico has become a reinvention destination for scores of midlife women.
Falling for San Miguel de Allende
As I navigate the cobblestoned streets of San Miguel de Allende on a cool morning, little appears to have changed in the many years since I was last here. The serene courtyards of the town's 17th-century colonial houses are still concealed by ochre-colored adobe walls. Street vendors still sell cups of fresh jicama and fruit in the shade of jacaranda trees that shrug off their purple blossoms during the heat of the day. People still sit on benches around the lively central square, staring at the towering pink La Parroquia church.
When I first visited San Miguel -- I was 9 and on a trip with my mother -- the Instituto Allende, an accredited fine arts school, was a hot spot for those seeking their inner artist. But today this entire town in central Mexico's high desert plains is reinvention central. Everywhere I look are women just like me: from the United States and over 40. English is heard as often as Spanish.
Ten percent of San Miguel's 80,000 residents are expatriates of the United States, many who've moved here to launch second careers as business owners or jewelry designers, jazz composers or chocolatiers.
"Women come for a vacation and then sell their homes back in the States," says Camilla Sands, a 52-year-old tour guide and an ex-advertising executive from Tacoma, Washington. "San Miguel has a way of doing that to you."
Finding Her Passion in San Miguel
For Cheryl Finnegan, 45, the decision to move struck her at a yoga retreat. "I had a successful marketing career at Levi Strauss, was married to an auto industry executive, and lived in a posh neighborhood of San Francisco," Finnegan says. "We had nothing but money, and there was a void in my life. My personal shopper sat next to me at Thanksgiving. I needed a change."
Finnegan chucked it all, including her marriage, and enrolled in a six-month yoga program in San Miguel. She stayed six months more, burning through her savings, and realized that she never wanted to leave. "I fell in love with the town's spirit," she says. "And I discovered a talent for jewelry design that I never knew I had."
Finnegan began making crystal-studded belt buckles and accessories decorated with folk-art images of Mexican saints, which she sold to funky boutiques in Los Angeles for $50 to $400. "I chose icons with calming and protective traits," she says. "The Virgin of Guadalupe is one of my favorites because for me she symbolizes undying love."
When a photo of Britney Spears wearing one of Finnegan's belt buckles appeared on a magazine cover in 2004, her company took off; it's now a multimillion-dollar business. In the converted garage that houses her office and workshop, Finnegan introduces me to her staff of mostly young Mexican women, who are paid U.S.-level wages. Tacked to the walls are photos of celebrities -- Lucinda Williams and Angela Bassett, among others -- wearing her designs.
"My artisans are not only skilled, they're fast. I can have a design ready for production within five days. Back home, it could take months," Finnegan says. Not that running a business in Mexico is simple: Many of her artisans, for example, don't have phones. "There's one in the house three doors away, so if you call Grandma, she'll run down the street to find someone," she says. Despite the complications, Finnegan can't imagine turning back now. "My workshop has tripled in size in three years, and I'm employing extended families," she says. "I'm doing what I love and, I hope, making a difference."
