From hobby to livelihood
CHELSEA STEVENSON PUTS HENNA ON WHILE MAKING CONNECTIONS WITH THE WOMEN WHO SEEK OUT HER SERVICES
At first, henna was just Chelsea Stevenson’s hobby. She was a teenager the first time intricate designs were inscribed on her hands, using a dye made from powdered henna plants.
She later revisited and researched the art form as an adult in attempts to mimic more traditional designs on her own. She would drape her hand with patterned stains of flowers and geometrical shapes. It was something that kept her at ease, especially during hard times, she said.
“I put henna on as an act of self-care. I didn’t have someone who I could fall back on,” said Stevenson.
She recalled her days as a single mother living in Nebraska, when she couldn’t afford to splurge on manicures or visits to the hair salon. A few dollars, however, could buy her a cone of henna to decorate her hands and feet multiple times.
But in 2011, during a trip to the grocery store with the last money she had in her bank account, henna became her livelihood.
“The (cashier) there was like, ‘Oh my God, what is that? I’ve never seen that. … It’s really beautiful. Would you do it for me? I want to pay you.’”
Stevenson agreed, and that day, her henna business was built.
Today, a married mother of three, Stevenson, 27, runs Cardamom & Clove Henna, an independent business in which she consults other henna practitioners, teaches henna classes to novices and professionals, and showers women of all backgrounds with ethereal designs, often including floral themes, all with an underlying focus on self-care and safety.
This year alone, Stevenson said, she has served well over
650 customers with her services. Stevenson has
taken her talents to other parts of the country, including Denver, where she hosted henna parties, and to Fort Worth, Texas, where her business took on the name Cardamom & Clove Henna, thanks to an aromatic tea-based mix she blended with the two spices. Stevenson, a biracial Muslim woman, said she has found her ideal clientele — women like her.
“I love working with minorities. That is the majority of my client base,” Stevenson said.
“A lot of time they are single. They are mothers. They have a lot of circumstances within their personal life, which causes them to be forgetful about self-care, and so I speak to that. My goal … is to make sure that they leave their session feeling empowered and encouraged and with a little bit of henna.”
Cynthia Atkinson, 48, a mother from Fort Meade, said a henna session with Stevenson is like therapy, not only because of the slow-tracing movement on her body and the endearing results, but because Stevenson creates a safe space, whether it be at her home or at a local Starbucks.
Atkinson booked her first appointment with Stevenson nearly two years ago after searching for her online. Today, they’ve developed their own relationship, with Atkinson seeking her out whenever she needs a “time-out,” enlisting her to do elaborate designs on her shoulders and back for celebrations.
“When she does my henna, I don’t see what she’s doing. I don’t tell her what I want. I just say, ‘My arm is your canvas, and go to town with it.’ I only see it when it’s done,” said Atkinson, adding: “You will be more addicted to her than you are to henna. … She has this soul about her.”
Stevenson also hosts a “Let Me Crown You” initiative on her website, in which she accepts nominations for women who are undergoing cancer treatment or other medical conditions that cause hair loss. In turn, she decorates their heads with henna “crowns,” ornate designs on the scalp, sometimes imitating hair or jewellery, in hopes of making them feel empowered — all free of charge.
Because Stevenson’s clients, especially those undergoing treatments, can be susceptible to irritation or infection, Stevenson preaches and prides herself on henna safety, advising against use of unnatural henna, which can contain other ingredients “intended to make them darker or make the stain last longer on the skin,” according to the FDA.
Thus, Stevenson creates her brown, allnatural stain from the imported and powdered plant Lawsonia inermis, and mixes it with a tingly, aromatic combination of sugar, water, an essence like a floral water for scent, and an essential oil with a high alcohol content like lavender or cajeput to help stain the body.
For an added touch, Stevenson often dusts the henna with a sprinkle of glitter, which stays on until the paste itself dries and flakes off, revealing a temporary brownish design on the skin, similar to a temporary tattoo.
Sherry Knox, 46, of Camp Springs said she would get henna every week if she could.
Knox, who, as a stenographer, works with her hands, said, “I love to watch my hands when I have henna on them and see how pretty it looks when I’m working.”
Stevenson has explored and studied its various forms for years, drawing upon the many elements, designs and motifs of traditional Indian henna, and taking on influences of Arabic, Moroccan and “khaleeji” henna, which refers to henna styles native to countries in the Persian Gulf like Oman, Kuwait, Qatar and Saudi Arabia, for a contemporary style.