When pop princess Ashlee Simpson was first photographed last summer post-nose job, it wasn’t just her plastic surgery that garnered mass attention. Sales of the dress she was wearing in the photo skyrocketed.

In the current celebrity-obsessed scene, an A-list star - on or off the red carpet - shown wearing a new designer’s creation can almost singlehandedly launch a fashion frenzy.

When Jessica Simpson stepped out recently in West Hollywood with Sang A’s “jade” clutch in blue python, blogs were quick to post her picture and solicit comments. And with the attention, from sites such as Pop Sugar and Style Minded, came demand for Sang A’s new $1,576 handbag.

Accessories designer Sang A learned early on that reaching out to the online community could be a crucial element of hawking her high-end handbags, which range in price from $1,500 to $15,000.

With a limited budget for marketing, Sang A has since come to rely heavily on blogs not just for attention, but also feedback.

The sites she chose to sell her wares, such as luxcouture.com and lagerconne.com, have developed mutually beneficial relationships with bloggers by incorporating reciprocal links.

“Blogging is absolutely important because it reaches the people that aren’t inside the fashion industry,” Sang A said.

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Since launching his first business, Speck Design, 11 years ago, Ryan Mongan and his business partner have founded Speck Products, famous for its iPod accessories; CAD Talent, an online job board for engineering talent; Camera Armor, which makes protective cases for cameras; and Speck China, a design and sourcing firm in China. Mongan’s latest company is called VentureNiche, which will act as a hub to help his growing family of companies to leverage each other whenever possible.

“We learned that we also enjoyed starting companies in niche markets. Our mantra when it comes to starting new companies is to fail fast, fail frugal, and fail fearlessly. We started 10 companies before we had our next successful next company, which became Speck Products. We tried new stuff, didn’t spend a lot of money, and if it wasn’t going anywhere, we shut it down. We never bet the farm on a new venture, which allowed us to keep trying.

“We come up with the majority of our ideas internally. For instance, we came up with the idea for Camera Armor at a trade show. We want to play in niches — we don’t want to go mainstream.”

Yahoo Finance

Back in the early 1980s, Frank Crail had a dream that many of us harbor in some small corner of our souls. A successful - if harried - tech entrepreneur in sunbaked Southern California, Crail yearned for a small town in the cool mountains where he and his wife could raise a big family and savor the simple life. So he moved to Durango, Colo. (pop. 15,000), and started looking around town for a way to make a living.

“I realized I had two options: a car wash or a chocolate store,” Crail recalls. “I’m not a car-wash kind of guy, so I opened the chocolate factory.”

Crail wasn’t exactly a candy man, either. He mixed his first batch of chocolate on a Ping-Pong table and got it all wrong. The nut clusters were as big as hockey pucks. The peanut-butter cups were a size D. But it turned out that folks were hankering for supersized sweets. Crowds gathered, and not just for the chocolate. Part of the fun was watching the new shopkeeper fumble around in his open kitchen.

“Resort towns are perfect for chocolate,” Crail says. “No one’s on a diet when they’re on vacation. People have money to spend, and they’ve got to bring something to folks back home.”

Today Crail’s Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory is the largest U.S. chocolate retailer in terms of locations, surpassing Godiva and See’s. Rocky Mountain (rmcf.com) has 325 stores in 44 states and this year plans to open 40 more. Revenues rose 13 percent, to a record $31.6 million, in fiscal 2007. (Same-store revenues, however, were flat.) Profits climbed 17 percent, to an all-time high of $4.7 million, propelling the company to No. 80 on the FSB 100.

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Barbara Kavovit — better known to the world as Barbara K — has turned what began as a niche home-improvement business into a mini-empire that now includes a line of fashionable, female-friendly tools available through retailers like Target, two best-selling books and, most recently, an online show. Barbara K admits that while her career has rarely traveled in a straight path, and that she has made her fair share of mistakes, her business is stronger because of what she’s learned along the way.

“My first job I took after college was as a financial analyst. I was living at home in New Rochelle, N.Y., at the time, and it was actually kind of boring. Then one day I heard my mom talking to some of her friends about how hard it was to get things done around the house without a man around, like hanging picture, fixing a leaky faucet, and tightening a doorknob. That’s when a lightbulb went on for me.

“I realized that women are tired of having to rely on men to help with home improvements. I thought women might like to deal with another woman instead. So I went to a local printer to have some business cards and fliers made up. Then I went to the mall and started talking to women about how I had just started a home-improvement business and asked whether there was anything I could help them with.

“After I lined up a job, like putting up Sheetrock, I would go to the phonebook, find the contractors that could do the work, and check out their references. I would then drive the contractor to the job and talk with the customer as he did the work. I made my money by charging the homeowner more than the contractor was charging me. My first year, I made $25,000.

Yahoo! Finance

Allison Stuart felt scared during the day she spent at the hospital in New Orleans awaiting surgery for recurring ear infections. Most 7-year-olds would. She had some things to comfort her, though - not reassuring words from her doctor or the prospect of a new treatment, but far simpler gifts: a colorful quilt and a heart-shaped pillow.

The gifts were the brainchild of entrepreneur Lisa Honig Buksbaum. In 2001, Buksbaum closed her marketing firm, Boxtree Communications (Buksbaum means “boxtree” in Yiddish), which boasted a roster of brands such as Colgate and Lipton, to launch Soaringwords, a New York City nonprofit that helps sick children and their families.

Buksbaum, 46, understands from experience the need for this type of support: Within a span of ten months in 1998, her 35-year-old brother died suddenly of an asthma-induced heart attack, her father had a recurrence of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma (he defied the odds and survived) and her 9-year-old son became gravely ill with rheumatic fever, which left him bedridden for four months. “Everyone wants to do something positive, but they don’t know what to do to help,” she says.

Since its founding in 2001, Soaringwords has boosted the spirits of more than 150,000 pediatric patients in the U.S. and, through its Web site, reached children as far away as China, Israel, Mexico and Russia.

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When a client says, “Jump!” the only right answer is: “How high?”

Peter van Aartrijk, 48 years old, felt differently. When he realized, as the founder of his own business, that some clients’ unreasonable demands were causing him stress and cutting into time with his wife and two daughters, now 11 and 16, he decided six years ago to make up a new rule: Fire clients whose expectations are out-of-line. The result at van Aartrijk Group, a Springfield, Va., company with 14 employees that deals in corporate-brand identity, Web strategy, advertising and market research, suggests executives can exert more control over their work environments than many believe. His story.

startupjournal.com

It all started with an accident. Late one night, while experimenting with a jet pump and a nozzle for a refrigerator cooling system, Lonnie Johnson shot a stream of water clear across his bathroom. Where some people might have seen a mess to clean up, Johnson saw an opportunity. Thus was born the mother of all water guns, the Super Soaker.

After leaving NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory in 1982, Johnson built the prototype for what would become the Super Soaker in his basement workshop. He had several false starts, but “a good challenge keeps me going,” he says. Although he applied for his first patent on the water-gun design in 1983, it wasn’t issued until 1987. About that time, he decided to leave the Air Force and work on several private projects, “any one of which might have made it,” says Johnson. But when he left the Air Force, they all fell apart. “There I was with no home, no job and a family of five to support.”

He returned to JPL and began shopping his water gun to toy companies. After two frustrating years, he hit the jackpot with Larami Corp. By that time, he had already sunk close to $15,000 into the project, and his licensing check was only $5,000. But Larami’s goal was to produce 100,000 water guns the following year. In 1990, despite little advertising, the gun — first christened Drencher — became a sellout. Renamed the Super Soaker in 1991, Johnson’s invention became the number-one toy in the country.

Larami has since been sold to Hasbro, but Johnson, who lives in Atlanta, still works with the company on updating the Super Soaker. His quarterly royalties have made him a millionaire, giving him the wherewithal to start his own research-and-development company, which is currently working on energy technology. Before his invention took off, “I had days when I’d stop and think, Why is it taking so long?” says Johnson. “But I never thought about giving up.”

Kiplinger’s Personal Finance Magazine