From the Birmingham News
July 22, 2003
By Kathy Seale

Florence-stiltskin

When Erika Rosenberg spied a spinning wheel 14 years ago at a New Orleans shop, she didn't know how to spin fiber and couldn't afford the wheel's $575 price tag.

She took it home anyway.

"I can remember the fear in my heart when I bought it," says Rosenberg. Then a pregnant mother of three, her husband was a recent medical school graduate in the midst of a low-paid fellowship. "But something in me told me I should do it. I knew it was going to change my life."

It did. Now five contract knitters turn the fiber Rosenberg spins on that wheel into scarves, baby blankets and sweaters that sell for as much as $1,000 in high-end stores such as Ron Herman in Los Angeles and Jeffrey New York.

The raw material for those toney togs comes from the herd of 17 alpacas Rosenberg keeps on her bucolic 55-acre farm near Florence.

She broke into the fashion big time last fall when she approached a buyer at Barney's New York.

"Before I got back from the trip, I had an order for scarves," she says.

When Florence designer Natalie Chanin of Project Alabama read about Rosenberg's business in the TimesDaily, she called Rosenberg and suggested a collaboration Rosenberg's sweaters embellished with Chanin's signature quilted, recycled T-shirt fabric.

A hit in Paris:
"She took them to Paris and we've been working nonstop since," Rosenberg says.

Chanin's collaborations, which have included eveningwear designer Fernando Sanchez and artist Lola Schnabel, typically last one season. The one with Rosenberg could be different.

"I think the collaboration with Erika probably is going to remain steadfast," Chanin says by phone from her office in Florence. "I think it's developed into a more long-term relationship."

Their next venture includes hand-spun cotton, which they plan to use for knitted or crocheted garments.

Rosenberg began spinning with fur from sheep and angora rabbits. She found the sheep wool too coarse, and while the rabbit fur was soft, the animals yielded precious few ounces and were tedious to cut.

"My whole life was spent shearing those beasts," she says with a grin.

When she moved from Seattle to Florence nine years ago, she bought her first alpaca. The soft, crimpy-haired animals, which are native to Peru, Chile and Bolivia, yield 4 to 8 pounds of fiber each per year. They're also relatively easy to shear.

"It's just like cutting your kid's hair," says the tall, slender brunette.

Alpaca plus angora:
She sends the shorn fiber to Ohio for processing, where they clean it and mix it with angora. The result is a blend of 70 percent alpaca and 30 percent angora.

On a visit to her barn, Rosenberg points out the 10-year-old white male alpaca named for the man who helped her turn her hobby into a business.

"This is my very first stud, Conrad," Rosenberg says. "We named him after our tax attorney."

Rosenberg then calls to the other males.
"Hey boys! Come here Broccoli," she says, but a brown-haired, 1-year-old doesn't budge.

"Alpacas just don't care for people," she says. They're pricey, too. Females typically cost $5,000 to $20,000 and males cost $1,000 to $10,000.

The herd grazes for most of their food, but Rosenberg supplements with five, 50-pound bags of Alpaca pellets per week. The bags cost $10 each.

After leaving the barn, Rosenberg dips her toes into the L-shaped pool behind their white-columned, two-story brick home. She doesn't have much time for swimming. In addition to her cardiologist husband and four teenagers, ages 14 to 19, she takes care of the alpacas as well as chickens, pigs, peacocks, horses, dogs and cats and mows the pastures.

"I keep the grass low to keep it out of the fiber," she says.

She also manages to spin up to six hours a day.

"It's just such a beautiful thing to do," she says.

After spinning a bobbin-full (about 4 ounces), she soaks the fiber overnight in hot water, then hangs it over a tub in the guest bathroom to dry. After it dries, she loads it onto a "swift," an expandable round wooden gadget which holds the fiber while she hand-cranks it into a ball of yarn. Next, it goes to the knitters.

The considerable time and effort which goes into her hand-made creations justifies the price tags, she says.

"People say, `I could just go to Wal-Mart and buy a sweater,'" she says. "Well, it takes a really long time to do this."