Threading A Story
Helen Carter of Secret Lentil
By Jill Comoletti
At the end of an echoing hallway at the Delavan Center stands a nondescript wooden door. Open it, and you’ll find yourself in a tiny sunlight-soaked room with a rack of asymmetrical clothing and a wall of handcrafted arm cuffs. An olive tunic drapes gracefully over a mannequin. The light shining through red curtains gives the space a warm glow. Mirrors reflect the room’s colors. Helen Carter, the designer of every item of clothing in this small shop known as a “superette,” flips through the rack of garments. She wears black pants, a flowing black top with visible seams, and a pair of bright aqua glasses. She pauses at a floral, one-of-a-kind patchwork dress. “When I have to sit down and make multiples of things, which I do sometimes, it’s like time comes to a stop,” she says with a laugh. “If I'm not problem-solving while I’m doing something, I'm just not interested in it.”
Carter owns Secret Lentil, a clothing business in Syracuse. She rents the superette and a large studio space down the hall, where she does her designing and sewing. She describes the clothes she designs as organic, eclectic, and sometimes freakish—a lovely mix of friendly and weird. “So many of the clothes we wear don't have anything to do with us,” Carter says. “I like making asymmetrical clothing because we really aren’t symmetrical as people. I like that our clothes can connect us to nature by being shaped like natural things.”
Carter’s mother was a home ec teacher, so Carter grew up around sewing. But, she was never interested in learning because the process involved following instructions. Only when she realized she could break the traditional rules of sewing (like never sewing woven materials with knit materials) did she become interested in the art. She bought a serger to begin making clothes. “Do you know what a serger is?” she asks, pulling her shirt away from her body and pointing at its visible seams. She explains that a serger is a machine that cuts and sews at the same time, trimming off extra fabric and adding an extra seam to the outside. This method makes her clothes look as if they are sculpted instead of sewed.
Carter’s mother was a home ec teacher, so Carter grew up around sewing. But, she was never interested in learning because the process involved following instructions. Only when she realized she could break the traditional rules of sewing (like never sewing woven materials with knit materials) did she become interested in the art. She bought a serger to begin making clothes. “Do you know what a serger is?” she asks, pulling her shirt away from her body and pointing at its visible seams. She explains that a serger is a machine that cuts and sews at the same time, trimming off extra fabric and adding an extra seam to the outside. This method makes her clothes look as if they are sculpted instead of sewed.
Carter and her husband used to own a vintage clothing and record store in Syracuse called Highlyatomic, and Carter began selling some of her clothing there. Another woman who sold clothing at Highlyatomic told Carter about Etsy, and she signed up right away. She found herself waking up early and selling clothes on the site for hours. Though she used to sell vintage clothing on eBay, Carter began to realize that her true passion was making garments.
The couple closed Highlyatomic in 2007, and Carter began selling clothes out of their house. In October 2008, Carter moved her business to the Delavan Center and she has been there ever since. She named her business Secret Lentil because she felt it gave her artistic freedom. “Some of the best band names are ones that hint at something, and you don't really know what they mean, but you like them. And I really wanted a name like that,” Carter says. “I wanted it to be this little world that I built where if I went in a different direction, it would still fit. So it’s not specific like Suits ‘R Us or something.”
The couple closed Highlyatomic in 2007, and Carter began selling clothes out of their house. In October 2008, Carter moved her business to the Delavan Center and she has been there ever since. She named her business Secret Lentil because she felt it gave her artistic freedom. “Some of the best band names are ones that hint at something, and you don't really know what they mean, but you like them. And I really wanted a name like that,” Carter says. “I wanted it to be this little world that I built where if I went in a different direction, it would still fit. So it’s not specific like Suits ‘R Us or something.”
Her studio space bursts with artistic clutter—bins overflowing with bright fabric, drawings and cutout shapes pinned to the walls, a whiteboard with a scrawled to-do list. A teal sewing machine sits on a desk beside a pincushion shaped like a tomato. Carter explains that her mother-in-law found that sewing machine with the trash in her neighborhood. “She was in the process of throwing out an Oriental rug, so she wrapped it in the rug and dragged it back to her house,” she says, throwing back her head and laughing. “She was in her seventies at the time. We were like you could have called us!” Carter is so fond of the machine that she had its image tattooed on the inside of her forearm.
Carter loves her job, but she faces challenges as a non-traditional entrepreneur who runs her own business and creates every item she sells. It’s difficult for her to get advice on running a small business because most other businesses are run by more than one person. She also doesn’t have traditional business goals like growing and selling Secret Lentil or receiving a bank loan. To balance all the work on her own, Carter totally immerses herself in her business, and doesn’t make distinctions between what is and isn’t work. “I don’t feel like it’s something I need to get away from because it’s not something I need to get away from,” she says. “That could also be a level of crazy-making, but I’ve just sort of decided this is what I do, and that is what it looks like.”
Look at her website and you’ll see how much Carter loves every garment she makes. She gives whimsical names to each article of clothing (she says she gives the best names to her favorite items) and she writes stories about many of her items in their descriptions. For example, she once sold a black dress with pockets, and in the online description she wrote that it reminded her of crying on the shores of Lake Ontario. As it turns out, a woman who lived on the Canadian side of Lake Ontario bought the dress. “We ended up having these back-and-forth jokes about her moping on the other side of the lake,” she says, laughing. “I try to have fun with customers.”
Carter’s customers appreciate her storytelling and sense of humor; she frequently receives emails from strangers saying they read through her entire website in one sitting. She used to do custom orders for people, but felt that it stifled her creativity. “I’m not someone who is just going to hem your pants,” she says. “The only way I can work is to have an idea in my head, and have it come out. I’d be more than happy to go out and search the whole world for whoever likes this weird dress that I’ve made.”
Carter’s customers appreciate her storytelling and sense of humor; she frequently receives emails from strangers saying they read through her entire website in one sitting. She used to do custom orders for people, but felt that it stifled her creativity. “I’m not someone who is just going to hem your pants,” she says. “The only way I can work is to have an idea in my head, and have it come out. I’d be more than happy to go out and search the whole world for whoever likes this weird dress that I’ve made.”
While standing in her studio space, she points to the back wall. “You should photograph those. People always love them,” she says. On the wall hangs a long metal rack holding spools of vibrant thread, each waiting to be spun into another eccentric masterpiece.
