The day I set aside to work on my first soaps felt like Christmas. I had my new supplies lined up on the kitchen with the soap base wrapped up tight—the only thing it was missing was a big, red bow on top. I took that hunk of soap, unwrapped it and cut it into pieces to melt down.

Then something magical happened.

Image credit: Monarch Butterfly, El Rosario Sanctuary, by Luna sin estrellas, on Flickr CC by 2.0.

For five hours, I was transported to a different universe. No, The Doctor did not come to take me away in the Tardis—I wasn’t quite that lucky.  I was immersed in watching the soap melt, stirring in the colorant and scent, and pouring the soap into different molds. I didn’t think about my worries once. Not once. I was happy. I was content. I was relaxed and enjoying myself. When I finally emerged from my kitchen, I was hooked. I needed to feel that feeling again and I needed to feel it soon. The next day, I went back to the craft store, bought more supplies and started all over again.

Plotting the ruse, an idea takes hold

 As I was wrapping the soaps I made, I thought it would be fun to label them as if they were soaps I had bought in a store. I wanted to fool everyone for a while, then pop the surprise that those were soaps that I had made.

I had to think of a fake company name for my homemade soaps. It didn’t take me long, really. After on a few minutes, Emmet Street popped into my head. Emmet Street is the street I grew up on in a tiny, little town in north central Ohio. I haven’t lived there in 20 years but when I think of home, I think of the house on Emmet Street—not the house I currently occupy.

Not my childhood home, but a reasonable facsimile. (Image credit: Lively and lovely… by Wonderlane, on Flickr. CC by 2.0.)

Emmet Street was an idyllic place to grow up. In the summer, the grown-ups would gather on our front porch and shoot the breeze as the kids ran around the yard trapping fireflies in jars. I felt relaxed and happy and loved on Emmet Street. I didn’t have a care in the world most days. I had the same carefree feeling as I was making those soaps. I knew I wanted to honor my street by using it in my company name.

I toyed with some ideas: Emmet Street Soaps? Nah, that would restrict me to soap and nothing else. What if I wanted to branch out? Emmet Street Sundries? Emmet Street Things ‘n’ Stuff? Emmet Street Creations? Yes! That was what I was looking for. I printed up fancy labels and, come Christmas, gleefully handed out all of my presents.

They were a hit. Everyone was so excited to receive the colorful little gems and impressed to learn that I had spent the time to make them.