Denise Ruth Capers

Denise Ruth Capers was born and raised in Hartsville, South Carolina. When her mother could not afford to buy clothes for six children, she did not complain. She taught her daughters to sew instead. Denise learned reluctantly. She was twelve years old and wanted nothing to do with it.

But the gift had already taken root.

When she went to college, every other student stepped out of their parents' car with stereos and televisions. Denise stepped out with a sewing machine. She majored in sociology at Friendship Junior College and later at Winthrop University. She taught third grade in Charlotte for seven years. All the while she was sewing — late nights, two and three in the morning, then up the next day to teach. She told no one. She hid the newspaper articles in a drawer.

She thought teaching was a real job. She had not yet understood that the gift was the job.

The first reporter who came to do a story called her a seamstress. She was comfortable with that. Designers had money. She had a broken-down car.

For three years she refused the word. People would ask what she did. She sewed, she would say. Just sewed. Nothing more than that.

Then one day a reporter came to her apartment and said — honey, you are not a seamstress. You are a designer.

She argued. She was not ready. But she began to understand what was happening. The reason she was in the situation she was in was because she was not telling herself who she was. She was thinking less of herself. And so she reversed course. She told herself — no matter what you have now, broken-down car or not, you are still a designer. You can change that.

Once she admitted to herself what she was, her life started turning around. Slowly, then all at once.

She never looked back.

Denise retired. She had earned it. Over 40 years, hundreds of weddings, fashion shows at Central Piedmont Community College, a wall full of newspaper clippings she never told anyone about, a gown she designed and mailed directly to Michelle Obama at the White House.

She was done. She was content.

Then a fashion show happened. Then the phone started ringing. Then a woman sat down next to her at a Kentucky Derby party and said — I just talked about you to my book club last night. I read your story from your portfolio and I told them all about you.

Denise wanted to cry. She has been crying about it ever since.

The Mayor of Charlotte came to her home and Denise made her a jacket. When she walked in, she bowed. She said I just have to bow to you. Denise thought she should be the one bowing. She still does not fully understand what she has built.

Over five hundred custom jackets in five years. No website. No social media. No online store. Every single sale from word of mouth alone. Every piece made by hand. Every one a singular original that will never be repeated.

She is not retiring again.