How a pivot to food-themed hair accessories built a $2M business

“I tell people, ‘I make food-themed accessories’ and boom – they get it,” says Jennie Lennick.

For the San Francisco-based artist and entrepreneur, that niche underpins a thriving retail business.

The 39-year-old runs a small California accessories brand called Jenny Lemons, best known for its quirky, colorful hair claw clips made from a plant-based alternative to conventional petroleum plastic.

She designs the products, selling them directly on her website and wholesale to about 1,500 independent retail stores in the U.S. and internationally — all themed around food.

If you want to wear rainbow chard, a sardine tin or a TV dinner in your hair, Lennick has a clip for that; the company’s bestseller is a strawberry.

“They are small, affordable luxuries that add a little bit of flair and fun,” she says.

The company, named after Lennick’s college DJ moniker, didn’t begin as an accessories brand.

Originally from Minnesota with more than six years of art school, she launched the business in 2015 as a food-themed, hand-printed clothing line based in San Francisco’s trendy Mission District.

She expanded by opening a physical shop in the neighborhood in 2018, selling her clothes alongside products from other artists.

But the store proved punishing: staffing costs were high, rent kept rising and foot traffic never recovered after the pandemic. She closed it at the end of 2023, $90,000 ($66,000) in debt.

The pivot to hair accessories began the year before, when she sold her clothes at a craft fair and met a hair claw vendor who shared a contact for a factory in China. Lennick started producing her own — food-themed, naturally — and sales online quickly outpaced her clothing.

“They (the hair clips) were keeping the store open,” she says, and they represented the obvious future.

Lennick’s studio today is a downstairs room in her home in one of San Francisco’s outer neighborhoods. She draws her clips on a tablet, chooses colors from a library of samples and sends designs to her longtime Chinese factory, which produces a prototype.

Her style pares food down to essentials, she explains, and she rarely uses more than three colors to aid wearability. She also watches food trends — the sardine tin claw clip came because tinned fish is having a moment.

She adds designs inspired by seasons and festive occasions, including a pumpkin spice latte hair clip that debuted this past autumn.

Jenny Lemons now has three full-time staff — Lennick, her husband as director of operations and an operations manager — plus contractors who help with everything from inventory forecasting to social media, where Instagram is crucial.

Revenue reached $2 million last year, up from $1.7 million in 2024, and the business is profitable, she says.

A shipment of 31,000 clips — the company’s largest yet — recently crossed the Pacific to a fulfillment center in Missouri that handles orders for her. About 60% of sales are wholesale, with the rest online.

A recent survey of her customers found most were aged 25 to 45, with about 30% in teaching or healthcare. Some wear the clips to glam up medical uniforms, she says.

Food-inspired fashion has filtered down from luxury designers like Dolce & Gabbana, which embraced it late last decade, says Lorynn Divita, an associate professor of apparel design and merchandising at Baylor University in Texas.

She adds that Jenny Lemons clips hit a “sweet spot” — giving people a way to dabble in the fashion trend at a giftable price point (a large hair claw is $24 on the website).

Divita also says that Lennick has made smart moves with videos showing how to wear and style the clips, as well as promoting them as sustainably and ethically made in China. “It appeals to the demographic that likes to show their values through purchases,” she says.

Across the Atlantic, Beki Gowing, a lecturer in fashion entrepreneurship at the University of the Arts London, says Lennick has “built a very strong business.”

“She really understands her brand and it shows in how it’s presented,” Gowing adds.

But she would like to see the business be more transparent regarding its environmental claims.

Cellulose acetate, from which the clips are made, comes from cellulose sourced from wood pulp or cotton, but it remains semi-synthetic and a type of plastic because the natural material is chemically modified.

Lennick notes that cellulose acetate has environmental benefits over conventional plastic, such as being biodegradable under certain conditions, and she says the company is working to highlight the labor standards for clip production.

Lennick’s business also faces headwinds.

She has been absorbing Trump’s tariffs on Chinese goods rather than passing costs to customers, squeezing her margins and forcing her to be more strategic about shipping and inventory.

“It is a numbers game … if we raise our prices, we’re not going to be able to sell as many hair clips, which eats into our profit too,” Lennick says.

Onshoring isn’t an option — she hasn’t found a high-volume cellulose acetate factory in the U.S., and it would likely raise prices too much anyway.

Then there are knockoffs by Chinese companies. While competitors can make food-themed hair clips, copying her specific patented designs is another matter.

After her mother spotted what appeared to be exact replicas in a Minnesota department store chain, Lennick sued. She has already settled one case for $45,000 against another large retailer.

She pays someone to patrol online and send cease-and-desist letters. “We play whack-a-mole as much as we can,” she says.

Fashion fads fizzle, too. Every year Lennick is relieved when she sees hair claws still trending.

But she knows she needs more than novelty clips to survive long-term, which is why she has added other food-themed goods including hats, socks and earrings. Clothing is a hard no — sizing is too complicated.

She is reticent to stray far from food. Other artist-led hair clip brands already focus on cute animals and checkerboard patterns. “The name we’ve carved out for ourselves is the funky food ones,” she says.

Lennick aims to grow revenue 30% this year, which is ambitious, says Divita. The company is in talks with a national home-goods chain about stocking its clips; it has appeared in other chains such as Urban Outfitters.

Such wholesale deals often have strict requirements and require deep discounts, which can be challenging for small businesses, says Lennick, but the larger reach is enticing.

Alongside this, brand collaborations — where Jenny Lemons might create a special-edition hair clip for another company’s promotional campaign — are a growing area.

Reopening a physical shop anytime soon is not on the cards.

Reflecting on her success, Lennick notes she has put in the work — the only financial help she has ever had is bank loans.

And while she admits she may have sold out somewhat as an artist by commercializing, she supports her family and gets to be creative. “And that is fine,” she says.