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NICHE PLAYERS
Great business ideas often develop organically. Meet
four entrepreneurs who found a niche in the market, proving that
even the most successful ventures are not always based on calculated
research, but rather on following your instincts and being in tune
with your surroundings.
BY REHAB EL-BAKRY
STRAIGHTENING THE LEARNING CURVE
Dina Abdel Wahab sees potential where others don’t.
When she failed to find preschool for her son with special needs
that would properly develop his cognitive and social skills, she
started her own. Now Baby Academy is growing up, and she is looking
to take its specialized teaching techniques to new markets.
Motherhood has a funny way of shaping career paths. Dina Abdel
Wahab graduated from the political science department at the American
University in Cairo, and seemed on the fast track to a career in
international development. But after the birth of her first child
in 1997, she found herself moving in a very different direction.
Her son, Ali, was born with Down’s syndrome.
Abdel Wahab quickly learned the challenges this presented, particularly
society’s misperceptions about Ali’s ability to learn
and develop. “It was very difficult to find people who knew
how to deal with his development here in Egypt,” she says.
“So I began traveling to the US every six months so that we
could assess his case and I [enrolled] in different programs to
learn how to work with him.”
She was encouraged to learn that children with Down’s syndrome
show remarkable advancements when given a chance to develop their
cognitive skills while interacting with other children. “Ali
was growing up and he needed to become more independent, and needed
to start playing with other children on a regular basis. So I started
looking for a preschool, and this was when the big surprise came.”
Abdel Wahab was shocked to realize that preschools, by western standards,
simply didn’t exist in Egypt. Most of them were simply day-care
services, where children were properly cared for, loved, fed and
safe – but didn’t actually learn anything. “I
used to work for NGOs working on early childhood education, so I
was familiar with the type of social and [cognitive] development
that children were supposed to learn in preschool. I had always
thought the basic programs I encountered while working in development
in Upper Egypt and in the refugee camps in Jordan and Lebanon were
simply due to the fact that they were operating in developing areas.
I was surprised to learn that this was also the norm in preschools
in [affluent] areas of Cairo.”
The schools Abdel Wahab approached refused outright to accept her
son when they learned he had Down’s syndrome. “People
wouldn’t assess him first and then decide whether or not he
could enroll in mainstream schools, which is what happens internationally;
they just rejected him because of genes,” she recalls. “They
would ask things like ‘is he safe to be around other children?’
or ‘is he violent?’”
Eventually, she found a preschool managed by a Swiss woman who was
more than happy to take in Ali, noting that in her native Switzerland,
they believed in inclusion of children with special needs. But while
the teachers provided Ali with exceptional care, at times spoiling
him, Abdel Wahab grew increasingly uncomfortable that they were
not making any attempt to develop his skills. “At home, he
would hold his own spoon and eat all by himself, but in the preschool,
they had someone feed him. They didn’t realize that he was
capable of coloring and doing puzzles on his own,” she says.
When she brought up the matter with his teachers, she felt they
treated her like a woman who was refusing to come to terms with
the condition of her child; that she was trying to push him too
hard to become something he would never become. “I just wanted
him to live up to his potential,” she insists.
As she struggled to find a solution, the idea of Baby Academy began
to take shape. “I had this idea of establishing my own preschool
where kids were not just taken care of, but learned new information
and skills; where every child had the opportunity to learn and develop
at his or her own pace regardless if they had special needs or if
they were gifted,” she explains.
Abdel Wahab sketched out a plan for a preschool with a long-time
friend who agreed to help finance the project. She traveled to the
US to purchase the latest curriculum based on the child-centered
learning system by which teachers adapt their teaching style, material
and techniques to the learning curve of each child, rather than
having the child adjust to the pace or technique of the teacher.
“We had decided not to spare any cost. We wanted Baby Academy
to be on par with preschools in the West.”
The project quickly ran into roadblocks. The first came when Abdel
Wahab tried explaining her vision to the various officials responsible
for issuing the permits. Preschools, she learned, did not fall under
the umbrella of the Ministry of Education, but rather the Ministry
of Social Affairs (now the Ministry of Social Solidarity). “The
first problem is that you are in the same category as orphanages.
You don’t have a law that regulates preschools. So when you’re
talking about early childhood development, or preschool teachers...
government employees have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Upon applying at the Ministry of Social Affairs, a representative
gave her a checklist of steps to complete before applying for a
preschool permit. “It took me nine months of going back and
forth,” groans Abdel Wahab. “First of all, the ministry
had no guidelines for the standards of the preschool. To me, that
was not the problem because I intended to have the highest standards
in everything. We then spent months with [the representative, who
was] trying to argue that the location was too big for a preschool
and that I was not going to make any money. She suggested that I
should turn it into a restaurant. And when I explained to her that
I had a feasibility study and that if I lost money, then it was
my problem, her reaction was, if I don’t care about the money,
then I should turn it into an orphanage. At one point, she even
accused me that this was a money laundering scheme.”
When the permit was finally secured, Abdel Wahab had another concern:
would her project succeed? Even as Baby Academy opened its first
branch in Heliopolis in May 2000, she admits that she was initially
worried that parents might not fully understand the spirit and thought
process behind the project.
Apparently they did. In fact, the venture proved so successful that
within two years, and despite some of the highest enrollment fees
in the market, she was looking to expand, first to Mohandiseen,
then later to Nasr City.
Baby Academy’s success has brought new challenges. Abdel Wahab
has discovered a shortage of qualified teachers. In recruiting,
she has faced two options: either hire experienced teachers and
try to re-educate them to adopt the child-centered learning system,
or hire fresh grads and train them in-house. She opted for the latter,
believing that getting people to change the way they do things is
much more difficult than trying to teach them from scratch. “Since
the preschool offers programs in English, French and German, I decided
to hire fresh grads, with excellent language skills and good university
degrees, and teach them everything myself,” she says.
Abdel Wahab’s training covers everything from how to use the
different materials in the class, to how to tailor teaching techniques
to each child’s individual needs, to the nuances of child
psychology. “You can’t just learn [these] things theoretically.
It’s like being a doctor, you actually have to practice in
a [classroom setting]. All this takes time.” One of the things
that is keeping Abdel Wahab from expanding even further, she elaborates,
is the lack of suitably qualified teachers available.
And to make matters worse, once the teachers are trained, other
schools swoop in. Baby Academy is a gold mine of trained staff,
she says. “We are the highest paying preschool, but now international
schools are recruiting my teachers. They offer them more pay and
benefits like a 50-percent discount if they enroll their kids in
that school.”
The shortage of quality teachers has prompted Abdel Wahab, along
with an institute in the UK and another in Dubai, to explore the
possibility of creating a training center for Baby Academy teachers.
The center would help ensure a supply of qualified teachers for
her branches in Egypt, and – if all goes well – throughout
the region. “It has always been one of my visions to have
Baby Academies all over the country and the region, because I know
that this sector is very much underserved,” she says. “We
are studying expansion plans in the region under several models
including franchising.”
A MANUSCRIPT FOR SUCCESS
Nadia Wassef, one of five partners behind Diwan bookstore,
refused to listen to the pessimists who said an upscale bookstore
and café, like the ones so common in the West, would never
catch on here. Egyptians don’t read books, they said. But
a passion for reading drove Wassef and her partners to try it anyway.
Five years since it opened, Diwan is now a household name, proving
that Egyptians really do enjoy a good book.
If you ever meet Nadia Wassef, chances are she will have a book
close at hand. Reading is her passion. “I simply can’t
imagine going to sleep without reading a book,” she confesses.
Just over five years ago, Wassef, her sister Hend Wassef, and three
friends – Nihal Schawky, Ziad Bahaa El-Din and Omar El-Desouky
– were discussing their mutual passion for literature, when
the idea struck of establishing a western-style bookstore in Egypt.
“We were a group of friends all at crossroads in our lives,”
recalls Wassef. “We were all unemployed at that moment in
time for very different reasons – from dissatisfaction with
work to personal reasons – and we were sitting around saying,
‘Wouldn’t it be great to open a bookstore?’ But
it wouldn’t just be any kind of bookstore; it would be a celebration
of cultures... it wouldn’t just be that books are all about
bookworms with thick glasses. It would be that books are fun and
sexy.”
While the partners were all fired up about the idea, their friends
advised them that it would never succeed in Egypt. “It actually
became a bit of a personal challenge because people kept telling
us that ‘people don’t read’ or ‘a bookstore?
How boring.’ There was this sort of placid negativity around
the idea. Very few people said, ‘Wow, that would be great
because we’re missing this in our lives.’”
Undeterred, the five partners ploughed ahead with their plans. While
none of them had any experience in running a bookstore, or even
knew much about the specific logistics, Wassef says things just
seemed to fall into place. A friend owned a large ground floor apartment
in Baehler’s Mansions in Zamalek. Wassef knew immediately
that this was the ideal location for their bookshop – an atmospheric,
historic building with frontage on 26th of July Street, one of the
most pedestrian-friendly roads in Cairo.
For the partners, Diwan was about more than simply stocking shelves
with books. They envisioned a meeting place for the culturally inclined
– a nexus of art, culture, language and media. Modeled loosely
on the likes of Barnes & Noble and Waterstone’s, the bookstore
blends book selling with music, software, stationery and coffee.
“The trend of coffee and books going together, and the lifestyle
of not [being able] to live without a book – this was a worldwide
trend. And I think it’s great because you are bringing everything
into the center rather than having everything being marginal and
peripheral,” explains Wassef.
This vision extended to the name, though Wassef admits Diwan wasn’t
their first choice. “I can’t even remember what that
other name was going to be but I can tell you that it wasn’t
really as good. We thought that this was a fantastic name and it
fits all the criteria. We wanted something that was easy to pronounce
regardless of the language. It was something [that had] to do with
literature – a Diwan of poetry; or a place where people meet
to discuss things.”
But it was a stroke of luck – some might say genius –
that gave Diwan its defining image. In early 2002, as Diwan was
preparing to open its doors to the public, a dispute arose between
Wassef and one of the other partners over the choice of the bookstore’s
branded bags. Wassef proposed the sturdy and colorful bags that
have since become a signature of the bookstore, while the partner
deemed the pricey bags an unnecessary expense. While she could not
make a rational business argument, Wassef held firm on her choice,
insisting the bags should have character and beauty. She eventually
won out, and has never regretted it.
“Thanks to this [fortunate decision], we don’t have
an advertising budget until today. The bags are the advertising
budget. People like to walk around with them and reuse them. They
are very noticeable and totally unconventional. And they’ve
taken on a life of their own,” she says.
While Wassef’s gut instinct proved correct in the case of
the bags, the partners’ inexperience in the bookstore business
led to a number of miscalculations. “For example, when we
first opened up, we didn’t have a storage room and we weren’t
even aware that we needed one,” she says. “We didn’t
realize that the position of bar-coding, which now we have eight
people doing over two shifts, existed. Hend, Nihal and I bar-coded
every single book that landed on the shelf when we first opened
up. We bought a computer system at the beginning that really didn’t
work for us and we had to sell it for [next to nothing,] but we
learned. This was a big labor of love and really not knowing better
is sometimes a good thing.”
As a prolific reader, Wassef recognized the names of the various
publishers she approached to place orders. Each responded differently,
but generally regional publishers were most accommodating, while
for US publishers it often depended on their experience with clients
in the developing world. Some were welcoming, others insisted on
payment upfront, and a few refused any business outright. “One
guy told me flat out, you guys [in the developing world] don’t
pay. You default on your payments and I am not interested,”
she recalls.
Diwan has made a conscious effort to impress publishers. “We’ve
always worked very hard to make sure that we are on time and that
we have a very good reputation [with the publishers],” Wassef
says. “We try to be proactive; rather than waiting for the
[company] rep to sell us the books, we will reorder. So everything
has gone well with publishers.”
And with the censors. Wassef explains that every book title must
be approved by the censors before it can be distributed in Egypt.
A representative of the Censor Office for Media & Entertainment
reviews a list of Diwan’s books on order and identifies the
titles they are concerned about. Once the orders arrive, copies
of the selected books are provided to the censors for review. If
the application is rejected, the books are returned to the publisher,
which credits Diwan’s account for any payments received.
Five years in, Diwan’s flagship store in Zamalek has become
a landmark for bibliophiles, but Wassef says the partners are poised
to open new branches, starting with their second location in Heliopolis.
“We took our time [expanding] because we had to take the time
to get our house in order and build up our own system,” she
says. “We had to make sure that our system is up [for expansion].”
Earlier attempts to branch out – including a small seasonal
outlet in the Diplomatic Village at the North Coast, and a partnership
deal with Cilantro coffeehouse chain that allowed Diwan to set up
bookshops in several of the chain’s outlets – have taught
them a few lessons about the secret to their success. “We
now realize that the charm is in the product mix. The best formula
is for us to have our own shops. So, you really can’t be inside
something else; you have to be free standing,” Wassef explains.
She says it took two years to track down the right location for
their first full-sized expansion branch – an old villa in
Heliopolis with plenty of space for their products and a little
café. The idea, she says, is to recreate the charm and atmosphere
of the Zamalek store. For book lovers, she says, Diwan has become
a place of refuge from the hectic Cairo lifestyle; a place where
people escape both noise and reality by sinking into great literature.
As Wassef sees it, she is following Voltaire’s advice in Candide
that the secret to happiness is to “cultivate your own garden.”
She says: “Diwan is my garden; it is the garden that I have
chosen to cultivate and I am happy now. I can’t make the world
around me perfect. But at least I have that.”
A CUT ABOVE
It might seem a difficult concept to sell: customers order
from a catalogue to have imported meat and seafood delivered to
their door. But Jalal Abu-Gazaleh believed customers would buy into
it if they felt assured the quality of the premium steaks and seafood
was superior to that of their local butcher and fishmonger. And
judging by the response, he could be on to something.
Owning a business that supplies high-quality imported meat
to Egypt’s top five-star hotels has its benefits. For one,
when you host barbecues at home, there’s no question your
guests are going to be impressed. “I love cooking and people
would come over and [comment] that the meat is really delicious,”
recalls Jalal Abu-Gazaleh. “Everyone kept asking, where could
we get it?”
Of course Abu-Gazaleh, a partner in AM Foods, knew the answer. But
the food service company that includes the Four Seasons and Grand
Hyatt among its clientele was never set up for retail. The Palestinian
entrepreneur began to think whether it should be. In April 2006,
he began to experiment with the idea, quietly opening Gourmet Egypt,
a small division within AM Foods to handle retail orders of the
same high-quality meat and seafood he was supplying to five-star
hotels and restaurants.
At first it was just a secret among friends – a small but
professional-looking flyer listing cuts and prices was sent to those
who asked. Two part-time agents took orders and delivery drivers
on motorcycles carried the orders to the customers’ homes.
By his own reckoning, it was a very basic operation. “We just
had a couple of guys in the office with mobile phones [handling
the calls],” he says. “The orders started coming in.
As we expanded the product range, sales went up. That’s how
it all started.”
Gourmet Egypt’s products include Australian beef and lamb,
Scottish smoked salmon, black tiger prawns from Vietnam and New
Zealand green lip mussels. The company also supplies the same Australian
wagyu beef (a highly-sought grass-fed Japanese breed of cattle)
that was previously available only at a handful of Cairo’s
finest steakhouses. All meat products are certified halal (slaughtered
in accordance with Islamic requirements) while the seafood is flash
frozen at its source, then shipped to Cairo in refrigerated containers.
Gourmet Egypt’s call center handles orders, which are delivered
in refrigerated vehicles from the company’s warehouses in
Mohandiseen and Heliopolis to the customer’s home.
Keeping the operation running smoothly is an exercise in logistics,
but Abu-Gazaleh says he was able to build on the model of Gourmet
Egypt’s sister company, AM Foods, which has over a decade
of experience in shipping these premium products to corporate customers.
He started AM Foods with his uncle in 1996, having already set up
a successful meat exporting business in Australia five years earlier.
But a home delivery service involved an entirely different set of
variables, such as the logistics of importing and storing smaller
quantities, and coordinating deliveries to new clients on tight
schedules. “The culture of retail is very different from the
culture of food service,” he says. “Food service accounts
order 5,000 kilos... but an individual order will be very different.”
Early on, Abu-Gazaleh made the decision to outsource Gourmet Egypt’s
sales function to a call center, whose bilingual sales representatives
are trained on each product and its specifics. Their phone etiquette
and responsiveness to customers are key ingredients in the business
model, he insists. “We have a team of sale agents who are
really motivated and passionate about delivering great service,
[which is important] because great service is what our business
is all about.”
In a little over a year since its inception, Gourmet Egypt has grown
from two agents taking orders on their mobile phones to a staff
of 35 and a fleet of refrigerated delivery trucks, and motorcycles
rigged with double-insulated ice boxes. The company has relocated
from AM Foods to its own headquarters in Mohandiseen, with two refrigerated
warehouses, one in Mohandiseen and the other in Heliopolis. It is
now eyeing larger premises to house its ever-expanding operation.
The company’s rapid growth has been based almost entirely
on word of mouth. Abu-Gazaleh says he has consciously avoided advertising
his company. “I think what scared me the most about advertising
was [being] unsure how big the response would be, on the one hand;
while on the other, I was too scared that we would get too big of
a response and we wouldn’t be able to maintain quality,”
he says. “We’re taking a long-term approach. It takes
a lot to build a reputation, but you can very easily lose it. The
last thing I wanted was to have a big advertising campaign and triple
the number of calls to the call center without having enough agents
to answer.”
He says word of mouth was the best model because it gave his team
a chance to put systems in place without jeopardizing the quality
of service. It has also given him a chance to better understand
seasonal consumption patterns, such as the July-August low season.
“In the summer, people go on holidays to the North Coast,
some people are out of the country and the foreigners are away.
Then there’s a period when the Christians are fasting, and
there’s a period when Muslims are fasting. These definitely
affect us. You have periods when [people] are not entertaining and
a big part of our business is people who entertain.”
Anticipating these seasonal demand fluctuations is important, as
it allows Gourmet Egypt to estimate how much stock of a product
it will need for any given month. It is critical to get the quantity
right as the frozen products require special storage spaces and
have a short shelf life.
This is where being a sister company of AM Foods comes in handy.
The two companies import the same meat and seafood products: AM
Foods distributes to corporate clients, while Gourmet Egypt distributes
to individual consumers. “The containers come regularly for
AM Foods and we [Gourmet Egypt] provide our best estimate of what
we think we are going to sell, keeping in mind the lead time and
shelf life,” Abu-Gazaleh explains. If Gourmet Egypt overestimates
demand of a particular product, AM Foods can usually take part of
the order. On the other hand, if stock of certain product is running
low, AM Foods may be able to cover the shortage. “We both
have to look after our customers, though it’s important that
we don’t have one company subsidizing the other.”
In anticipating demand, Gourmet Egypt must also take into account
shipping time, which can take up to four weeks by container ship.
The in-house logistics team must coordinate the various import shipments,
accounting for customs clearance and Ministry of Health spot checks
– all the while ensuring the frozen products remain in refrigerated
containers until they reach the end consumer. With a year’s
experience now under their belt, the operation is like a finely-tuned
orchestra, boasts Abu-Gazaleh.
Having successfully tamed the logistics and delivery cycle, Abu-Gazaleh
believes Gourmet Egypt is ready to open its flagship retail store
in Maadi. “We’re in the final stages of opening our
first store, which is about 250 square meters with a fresh meat
section, a cheese and deli section and a seafood section,”
he says. “We’ve gone to extremes to really create an
amazing store with international standards.”
He says the retail outlet will add a new dimension to Gourmet Egypt’s
business, and create a business that complements the home delivery
stock. But mostly, it will reinforce the company’s underlying
concept: to offer the highest-quality food products to discerning
customers in the most convenient manner.
BODY, MIND AND SALES
When Mona Erian created the products that are now the backbone
of Nefertari Body Care, a line of 100-percent natural skin and hair
care products, she had no idea that she was laying the groundwork
for a successful entrepreneurial venture. Erian says her handmade
products, which began as substitutes to the chemical-laden brands
that her daughter was allergic to, have found their own niche in
the Egyptian market.
Ten years ago, when Mona Erian’s daughter developed a rash
on her scalp after using a commercial brand of shampoo, the concerned
mother examined the ingredients listed on the back of the bottle.
A graduate of the Faculty of the Pharmacology at Cairo University,
with a Ph.D. in industrial pharmacology from Leicester University
in the UK, she knew exactly what to look for. Any number of the
artificial colors and preservatives could cause an allergic reaction,
but one of them was not only a skin irritant, it was carcinogenic.
As most other shampoos were loaded with chemicals, Erian decided
to “cook up” her own shampoo-alternative for her daughter
to use instead. She made the first batch of her all-natural product
in her kitchen using pure olive oil and all natural ingredients
– no preservatives, no coloring agents and no artificial chemicals.
The home-made “soap” worked beautifully, giving her
daughter shiny hair without any allergic reaction. But replicating
the experiment proved a lot more challenging.
“The first batch was just such a miracle because I just put
this and this and that [together] and it turned out perfect,”
she recalls. “Unfortunately, I never wrote down the percentages
that went into the mixture.” In fact, it took Erian eight
months and countless attempts to recreate the original formula.
But she knew she was on to something. Soon she was making soap not
only for her daughter, but as gifts for a growing list of friends
and family, who having tried her home-made soap, were convinced
it was superior – or at least safer – than store-brand
products. And as the batches grew larger to meet demand, the idea
of Nefertari skin and body care products was born. “[It started
as] more of a hobby than a business. Then I realized there was a
need in the market,” she says.
Eight years ago, Erian registered Nefertari Body Care as a trademark
and received permits from the Ministry of Health. She also began
to secure patents for her various products. “It’s a
very long and hectic process,” she explains. “But I
had to protect my product and myself. It takes around six months
for each product and costs around LE 2,000 per product.”
Prior to launching her business, Erian spent two years at the US
Food & Drug Administration (FDA), which endowed her with a solid
understanding of the various processes to test pharmaceutical products.
She also worked for Jordanian drug maker Hikma Pharmaceuticals both
in the marketing and registration of pharmaceutical products. The
job gave her a thorough understanding of the patent process, and
impressed upon her the importance of registering the formulas for
her products at the patent office.
But this was her first time to attempt to register patents in Egypt.
Her biggest challenge has been to convince the Ministry of Health
that it is only necessary to register the basic formulas of her
products, not all their variations. “International practice
is to register the basic formula [of the product]. It doesn’t
make sense [to register all the variations],” she says. “In
lipstick, for instance, you might have 80 shades, but you don’t
actually register every single color. You register the basic formula
of the lipstick and they accept that the colors are simple variations
of the formula. I’m trying to apply this concept because it
just makes sense. But the process is expensive and very time consuming.”
With the Nefertari product line continually growing, Erian has spent
a good share of time at the patent office. Today the brand boasts
167 products – ranging from soap to shampoo to bath salts,
oils and moisturizers. All Nefertari products are handmade in Egypt
using traditional techniques and local materials, with the exception
of lavender and certain oils not readily available here. “[The
formulas] are mine in the sense that they came from me, my environment
and my surroundings. For instance, my grandmother used to make rosewater
at home in a copper pot and seal it with bread dough to allow it
to cook. It was a very old tradition,” she says. “I
am making rosewater in the same way [using] a copper alembic.”
Erian found a niche in the market for her simple, all-natural products.
She also takes pride in the Egyptian roots of her creations. “I
am very much in love with Egypt. I wanted to create something really
Egyptian; something that would not be swept away with the Southeast
Asian invasion; something that had the characteristics and essence
of this country; and something that nobody could really replicate.
This was the whole idea. This is why our logo is ‘proudly
handmade in Egypt.’”
As her client base grew, Erian opened a small shop in Zamalek, adding
kiosks in high-end malls such CityStars and Nile City. She also
moved the production line out of the cramped quarters of her kitchen
and into a new factory in Dokki, which employs 29 workers. Her company’s
growth has been as organic as the products themselves. With no formal
business model, no carefully calibrated marketing strategy and no
scientific market research to guide her decisions, Nefertari is
all about things that come naturally – including business
development.
“I didn’t do what I learned in marketing at all,”
Erian admits. “We were always taught to do what the market
wants, but I do what I want [and what I] like. It’s a mistake
I know, but I can’t help it. When I asked things systematically
and scientifically to find out what the market needs, it didn’t
work at all because everyone had a different opinion. So I go by
instinct; I go with what I would like to have.”
Feeling that advertising will commoditize her products and detract
from their intrinsic value, Erian instead relies on word of mouth.
“My clients are people who really like natural products or
are adventurous buyers willing to try something new. I know that
once they’ve tried my products, they will definitely come
back.” Brimming with confidence, she offers shoppers samples
of her all-natural products hoping that once they’re hooked,
they will never go back to chemical-based products.
For the time being, Erian sees no competition. She points out that
while some hair and skin care brands give the impression of being
all natural, hers is the only Egyptian brand that truly is. But
keeping her product true to its nature limits her expansion –
Erian insists on mixing all the products herself to both protect
the formula and to ensure the quality is never compromised. Her
staff only pour and package the products.
So far, Erian has turned down two large export orders, one from
a company in China and the other from an Italian drugstore chain.
“They were talking about importing containers of my products,
and I told them I simply can’t [meet this kind of demand],
she says. “At the same time, I don’t want to switch
to a machine [manufacturing model] simply because it will change
the identity of the product. So I am content being a niche market
product.”
But supply-side limitations have not prevented her from exporting
her products entirely. Erian is currently preparing to establish
her first kiosk in a mall in Qatar and is hoping to expand to other
markets in the region, starting first with the UAE. She’s
also working to receive FDA approval for her products to be sold
in the US. “One of my clients lives in the US and she loves
the product so much that she wants to establish a small outlet in
her hometown. So we’re working on that right now. I would
love to make this product available for as many people as possible,
but I want it to keep its identity. I want it to always be a high-quality
product that is proudly made in Egypt.”
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