Jill Boehler’s simple invention took her on a roller-coaster journey from speech pathologist to entrepreneurial hotshot.
Jill Boehler felt like a movie star. Seated in the spotlight in one of CNBC’s studios, with the cameras rolling, she was being interviewed by the charismatic host of the talk show The Big Idea with Donny Deutsch. Earlier that day, she’d left her home in Baltimore and flown to New York, where a black stretch limo met her at the airport and chauffeured her to the studio in New Jersey. A stylist there had curled her eyelashes and sprayed her hair. Now she was recounting for a national television audience how she had started a business selling silky, warm, microfiber wraps that fold into pouches small enough to stash in purses. Deutsch, considered by some to be the world’s savviest ad man, leaned over to stroke the wrap draped around her neck. “I love it. What a great idea!” he cooed.
What Boehler didn’t reveal that June day in 2007 was how much she needed the publicity. Creating the company had dragged her deep into debt, and she didn’t know whether she’d be able to stay in the business. Her anxiety had increased to the point that she was on medication. Still, Boehler carried off the interview with aplomb, thrilled with all the attention. Making her TV debut, she says, “was like entering a different world.” Even more amazing was how the appearance boosted her business. The evening her segment aired, Boehler was stunned to find hundreds of orders in her e-mail inbox. “Donny Deutsch catapulted my company to another level,” she says.
Just two and a half years earlier, the idea for the wraps had not even entered her head. Boehler, then 52, was working long hours as a speech pathologist at charter schools in Lawrence, Massachusetts, and planned to wind down her 32-year career in the field. “I had to sit on the floor with kids, and it was hard for me to get up,” she recalls. “I felt old. That’s the first time I knew I was past it.” For three decades, she’d taught children and adults with language problems to speak. She’d published a textbook for speech therapists and run a private practice. She and her husband, Rich, a physician, had raised three children, the youngest of whom, Jordan, would soon be entering college. By spring 2005, she was ready to retire.
But while vacationing that summer, Boehler found a new direction. On a sweltering July evening, as she sat shivering in an air-conditioned restaurant, she watched Rich pull out his reading glasses and thought, wouldn’t it be great if I had a wrap that was small enough to fit into my purse, like a pair of spectacles? All her life, she’d had ideas for inventions (a board game to help people with aphasia remember words had earned her $15,000 in royalties). But most of her ideas went no further than the journal where she jotted them down.
The wrap was different. She mentioned the concept to her oldest son, Adam, then 26, who was in France visiting a friend whose family owned a pajama factory there. The family offered to introduce Boehler to some French designers and fabric suppliers in the area. Three months later, she was sitting at a conference table in the bustling French city of Lyons, surrounded by mannequins and young, hip designers. “They were drawing sketches and asking my opinion. I had no idea what I was doing,” she says. “The whole thing was hilarious.” On the third day of her visit, she scoured Lyons’ textile district for materials, but they were all either too bulky or too flimsy. When she sat down in a street café for a break, a cyclist rolled up wearing biker shorts. Boehler took one look at the shiny, stretchy microfiber and knew she’d found her fabric. It was light enough to fold into a small purse, warmer than silk, shiny enough to dress up an outfit, and, best of all, it was wrinkle-resistant.
Boehler returned to the U.S. with a design, a prototype and a name for her wrap: the Chilly Jilly. Then she began trawling the Internet for a manufacturer close enough to her home in Baltimore (where Rich had taken a new job) so she could build a personal relationship with the owner and make last-minute changes, if the need arose.
To her surprise, producing the wrap was not her biggest expense. The first batch of 200, each folded into a small matching pouch, came to $1,400. But legal and marketing costs soon added up (see “Running the Numbers,” at left). Boehler borrowed $25,000 on plastic and withdrew $45,000 from her son Jordan’s college fund. (Later she took out a loan to cover his tuition.) Even though her family was supportive, Boehler didn’t like using their money in this way. “We aren’t far from retirement,” she says. “I knew my failure could change our lives.”
Once Boehler had her first order in hand, it was time to start selling. Most entrepreneurs with new products hire sales representatives or pitch their products to store owners after making an appointment. But Boehler didn’t know this, so for the first few weeks, she made cold calls to 30 boutiques in 10 towns, emphasizing the wrap’s versatility. (“You can wear it around your bathing suit as a sarong and then in the evening as a wrap—from the pool to the restaurant!”)
She sold all 200 and went back to the factory for 900 more, at a cost of $6,300. Some boutique owners would buy a dozen to resell at $30 each. Others would politely send her on her way. The rejections, although infrequent, hurt. “Once, before I even finished my pitch, the store owner snapped, ‘We’re not interested,’ ” Boehler recalls. She fled to her car and wept, wondering whether she should cut her losses and fold the business. The financial pressure was driving her crazy and costing her sleep. She eventually sought help from her doctor, who prescribed Ambien for the insomnia and later Xanax to relieve her anxiety.
Pinning her hopes on a mention from Oprah Winfrey, she e-mailed and called staff on the show and at O magazine every single day for six months straight. She pitched to other media outlets as well, finally landing a mention in Self magazine and on iVillage.com. One day, in the summer of 2007, a customer suggested she contact the producers of The Big Idea with Donny Deutsch, which regularly featured innovative entrepreneurs. After the show aired and orders poured in, Boehler hired a part-time assistant and sales representatives around the country. Then, in January 2008, she got her second big break. At a weekend accessories trade show, a QVC buyer stumbled on the Chilly Jilly display and left a message asking Boehler to call back. Boehler did—and two days later, she was sitting at QVC headquarters being quizzed by three buyers. “I started doing my spiel, but then I realized it wasn’t a matter of if they would have me on, but when. They just wanted to see if I would agree to their terms.”
Boehler has since appeared on QVC nine times, and her success as an inventor and entrepreneur has earned her the admiration of QVC’s largely female audience, says Rich Yoegel, QVC’s director of merchandising. Last year, her company made $125,000 in profits, which enabled her to pay off all her credit card debt and begin to save. These days, her business is almost a family enterprise. Rich helps carry heavy boxes when he’s home; Jordan, now 20, designed the artwork for the first Chilly Jilly bag; daughter Kim, 25, models the wraps for chillyjilly.com and other promotional materials; and oldest son Adam, 30, a venture capitalist, gives her business advice. “Adam listened to every challenge, reasoned away every failure and cheered every success,” she says.
Sometimes Boehler thinks about retiring (no more weekends attending trade shows). But not yet. This year, she’s expanding the line to include plus sizes and an “elite” wrap made of a more luxurious microfiber. Next year she’ll start selling gloves made of the same material. The recession hasn’t put much of a dent in her business, she says, because her accessories are versatile and inexpensive. “I don’t feel like I’m done with this,” she says. “I feel like I’m in a movie, and I want to see what happens next.”
Running the Numbers
$20,000 Lawyer’s fee for filing patent (still pending)
$10,000 Cost to design Web site, ChillyJilly.com
$10,000 Displays, posters, printing and other marketing expenses in 2008
16 Number of people wearing a Chilly Jilly who Boehler has run into
18,000+ Number of wraps sold on QVC
150 Number of discarded, damaged wraps per batch of 5,000
Dalia Fahmy has profiled entrepreneurs for the New York Times and Inc. magazine.