Painting The Town Dineh Mohajer and her partners found unexpected success right at their polished fingertips.

In the day Dineh Mohajer painted her toenails baby blue and wentout shoe shopping, starting a business was the last thing on hermind. Mohajer, then 22 years old, was just your basic University ofSouthern California premed student escaping to Beverly Hills for amindless summer afternoon of retail therapy with her sisterPooneh.

She wasn't looking for new challenges. Au contraire,says Mohajer, "I had decided that summer [in 1995] to bloweverything off and do a very unpremed-like thing and just relaxbefore I had to go off to medical school and never have anotherchance to be a kid."

She envisioned a summer of partying and kicking back with herboyfriend. What she got was something else. On the day Mohajer wentshopping--sporting a shade of baby-blue nail polish she had mixedherself--she was accosted by dozens of passersby who simply had toknow where she got that polish. A saleswoman at Charles Davidpractically begged Mohajer to reveal her source: The baby blueperfectly complemented Charles David's spring line ofshoes.

"That was it," Pooneh recalls. "I told Dineh,`We're going to lunch and put together a business plan andstart selling this stuff.' "

The plan they developed over lunch--and financed with a meager$200--didn't seem as if it would interfere too seriously withDineh's leisure plans . . . until an excited teenager boughtDineh's stock of prototypes from her while she was pitchingupscale specialty store Fred Segal. Until Seventeen andElle magazines put the editorial spotlight on Mohajer'soffbeat pastel colors. Until Nordstrom and then Bloomingdale'sand then Saks called in orders.

In a matter of months, Hard Candy, the Beverly Hills, California,company Dineh, now 24, Pooneh, 31, and Dineh's boyfriend,Benjamin Einstein, 24, founded, was pushing $10 million in sales.So much for a leisurely summer.

Runaway success proved to be more than a minor crimp inDineh's relaxation program. Setting up suppliers, distributionnetworks, accounting systems and corporate structure while managingbreakneck growth was like trying to put out a fire with a wildlygushing firehose: There was no catching it. Youthful energy was anadvantage, but inexperience was not. Nor did it help that suppliersand accounts lacked respect for the young entrepreneurs. Finally,even 22-year-olds run out of steam. Nine months after starting thecompany, Dineh nearly ended up hospitalized from exhaustion.

Fortunately, the story doesn't end there. This is the taleof a young, hip entrepreneur who inadvertently lit a firecracker.But it's also about how the same fresh thinking that created aninitial spark also enabled this young company to grow into itspotential.

Counter Revolution

Today, the Dineh Mohajer who speaks to you from her BeverlyHills office is the picture of poise. She isn't frazzled. Sheisn't scattered. And, despite a much-publicized tendency tospeak like the Generation X-er she is (I mean, totally), shedefinitely isn't clueless.

But then, Dineh's been through the crash course. In 18months, she's seen the concept she originally conceived of gofrom a hectic, homebased concern to a serious contender in thecompetitive world of cosmetics.

Hard Candy's beginnings were fairy tale enough. At thatfateful lunch, the sisters came up with a company name, a strategy(hit the local boutiques), and some rudimentary ideas on packaging.Dineh made up sample bottles of her four signature shades: Sky(pale blue), Sunshine (yellow), Mint (green), and Violet(lavender). She had been blending the colors using ready-madepolish (in decidedly uncool shades like dark blue and white) andadding thinner to create the right consistency. "It's nothard to mix nail polish," says Dineh. "I learned how inmy bathroom."

Dineh and Einstein took the prototypes to the ultratrendy FredSegal store in Santa Monica, California. They were in the processof presenting their wares to the owner at the cosmetics counterwhen a teenager dining in the adjacent cafe came over to check outthe goods.

"We were talking about how much we would sell it to [theowner] for, and how much the store would have to sell it for, andthen this girl who was, like, 16 came running over and said, `Oh myGod, I love these! I have to buy these. How much are they?'" Dineh recalls. "We didn't know, but a salesgirlimmediately said $18 a bottle. The girl's mother's eyeballspractically dropped out of her head, but the daughter was having afit and the mother bought them. Four of them cost, like, $75. Theowner turned to me and said, `OK, bring me 200 more tomorrow.'"

Dineh and Einstein left the store elated and more than a littlepanicky. They had no inventory and no production facilities. Theydidn't even have adequate supplies. "We bought bottles [ofpolish] at beauty supply stores, went home and startedmixing," Dineh says. "It was just crazy."

Early retail sales were brisk. Einstein began venturing out onsales calls to some of Los Angeles' hipper boutiques, and manysigned on as consignment accounts. For a few glorious weeks,everything was groovy.

Polished Off

And then it broke loose. Hard Candy had one of the shortestfuses in the history of explosive products. Celebrities were amongthe first to bite. Before long, actresses Alicia Silverstone andDrew Barrymore were flashing Hard Candy polishes. Then came thefashion press. "Before the end of the summer, Seventeen,Elle and Vogue were writing about our stuff," Dinehsays. "It gave us national exposure, but we were not preparedfor the response."

"Suddenly people were ordering more than we could possiblymake," says Einstein. "We got our friends involved. Atone point, we had 12 people working out of a two-room guesthouse" (behind the apartment Dineh and Einstein lived in).

Hard Candy became the creature that ate its founders'personal lives. "Every room in the house was polluted withthis stuff," says Dineh. Not only was the business physicallyoverwhelming, but it was also a mental challenge of Olympianproportions. "I didn't know anything about business,"Dineh explains. "I didn't have any computers, except forthis Macintosh with Quickbooks on it. I was overwhelmed and burnedout."

In came Mom to save the day. Dineh and Pooneh's mother,Shahnaz, wasn't a Fortune 500 executive, but she had run theirfather's medical offices for years. Sensing that her daughterswere a little taxed, Shahnaz flew in from Michigan and got to work."She set up our Visa machine so we could accept orders overthe phone. She helped us get a real manufacturer. She handledinvoices," says Dineh. "She was so crucial in thisbusiness. I know we wouldn't be here today if it weren'tfor her help."

That help also took the form of an investment from Mom and Dad.Dineh won't disclose the actual amount, but she readilyacknowledges that it was substantial--in the six-figure range. Themoney also enabled the partners to move the company to a commercialoffice in Beverly Hills in 1995.

But even the strongest parental support wasn't enough tokeep Hard Candy from cracking. The exponential growth continued,and as it did, Dineh's exhaustion multiplied. Things got out ofhand. Hard Candy simply couldn't keep pace with demand. Thepressure mounted.

"I didn't sleep. I didn't eat. I was a workingfool," Dineh confesses. "My learning curve could not keepup with the [company's] growth curve--there was no way."She reached the point where she didn't care about turning aprofit or building an empire. Dineh was literally on the brink ofcollapse when she did what just might be the smartest possiblething: She let go.

Nailing It Down

It was time for the big guns. It was time for a guy who ownedneckties and read spreadsheets and spoke the lingo of mergers andacquisitions. "I said, `I'm hiring a CEO,' " saysDineh. " `I'm going to pay him a fat sum of money--all themoney I would have made--and let him run everything while I get amassage.' "

With the help of a major consulting firm, Dineh located WilliamBotts, a former cosmetics-industry executive with what Dineh calls"tons of business experience." Botts had, in fact,recently helped another nail polish company through an acquisitionby Revlon. "He had technical experience, and he knew how tofix what was going on," says Dineh. "But what I reallyloved was that he understood my vision and was genuinely excitedabout it. He was a perfect fit."

Botts did indeed whip Hard Candy into shape, doing everythingfrom cleaning house to bringing accounts on line. It's hisexpertise and structure that allow Hard Candy to function like themultimillion-dollar company it is. Given the circumstances, hiringa CEO was clearly an intelligent move. But it's also one thatmany other entrepreneurs have resisted for fear of losingcontrol.

Here, Dineh's youth may have worked in her favor. She isunburdened by ego; she has nothing to prove. Getting helpwasn't a sign of weakness but a matter of practicality.Likewise, retaining creative control of the company isn't acomplex psychological issue. It's simple. "You just saywhat you want," Dineh explains. "Bill is a strong-mindedperson. He has his own opinions and a lot of experience, and Irespect what he says. But I also understand that if I don't saywhat I want, I will lose control. I came to terms with that veryquickly."

Today, the Hard Candy team appears to be a happy littleecosystem. Pooneh, who is a lawyer, handles contracts,administration and financials. "Dineh and I are verydifferent, but that works out fine," says Pooneh."She's very creative, and I tend to be focused on thebusiness side of things."

Einstein and Dineh, on the other hand, tend to think alike. Amusician in the few free hours he has, Einstein is a creativepowerhouse in his own right. Though he gives Dineh full credit forbeing the brains behind Hard Candy's success, he's animportant piece of the puzzle--an equal partner in brainstormingsessions and an equal pair of hands when the hard work begins.

And if Dineh herself isn't exactly limp with relaxationthese days, she is energetic and focused instead of fried. Having aCEO in place has enabled her to concentrate on her true calling:spinning out the style that's made Hard Candy famous.

It isn't easy being hip. Because Hard Candy positioneditself on the cutting edge from the start, it can't simplyfollow fashion. It has to be out in front. Although HardCandy's initial colors--which were heavy on thepastels--vaulted the company into the major leagues, the pressureis constantly on to create still newer, hipper colors. Othercreations include "Porno," a deep metallic red,"Heist," a nonmetallic chartreuse, and "TrailerTrash," a metallic silver.

How does she know whether metallic silver will actually work?For Dineh, it's a question of following her gut. "Eversince I've known Dineh, she's been able to look at thingsand say `That's cool' or `That's cheese,' "says Einstein. "Even in [high] school, she'd do somethingthat everyone would say was stupid, then six months later they wereall [copying her]. She was six months ahead of everyone else, whichis a huge advantage now."

Candy Girl

In fact, that creative eye is everything--and keeping it tunedis exactly why Dineh needs the space to lead a life outside thebusiness (although that doesn't include medical school, whichDineh has put on hold for now). She reads fashion magazines andtracks trends. But more important, she lives the life of her targetmarket. She appeals to 12-to-25-year-old women because she is a12-to-25-year-old woman. She likes to hang out with friends and goto movies. She follows the music scene.

In the future, Dineh envisions a more complete line of HardCandy cosmetics. Already, the company has 16 shades of lipstick tocomplement its nail colors. Says Pooneh: "I think clothing issomething Dineh could do really well, and who knows what else? Idon't limit what Hard Candy can do."

As well she shouldn't. Like its founders, Hard Candy isstill young enough to grow and inspire and even change directionsif necessary. Already, it's weathered more trials and triumphsthan the average start-up. Success has been sweet, but ithasn't been easy. Apparently, they don't call it Hard Candyfor nothing.

Contact Sources

Hard Candy, (310) 275-8099, fax: (310) 275-6449.