EMMA PHILBROOK: STUDENT LIFE

Who hasn't, at one point or another, contemplated starting a small business of their own? I think we all have a little bit of entrepreneur inside us, and sometimes it insists on coming out.

I'm an enterprising person by nature, but I've never come up with a product of saleable appeal. The one original idea I did bring to market ("Leprechaun Lemonade", dyed a festive shade of green for Saint Patrick's Day) was a drastic fail.

Now, several years later and having taken an economics class, I realize what I was missing - a focus group. Had I conducted one, I might have realized that very few people patronize lemonade stands in mid-March, and even fewer people are keen on the concept of a beverage whose consumption may have permanent implications for the color of one's teeth.

It's a timely realization, because my inner entrepreneur is rearing her head once again, with an all-new, groan-inducingly coined product- Promigami.

Basically, Promigami are custom made corsages and boutonnieres that consist of origami flowers, the odd bead, and an occasional sprinkling of glitter. The concept is still in its fetal stages - I made my first one last night, actually, a cluster of green and white forget-me-nots on a ruffle of purple-printed rice paper. The finished product looked practically professional, which got me kind of excited. After all, homecoming season is rapidly approaching, which means that the corsage and-boutonniere market is going to be booming pretty soon. And then I remembered the lemonade and decided that I should probably focus-group the product first.

Unfortunately, the only subjects available were the members of my household. Ah well. "Do the best with what you have" is an essential tenant of entrepreneurhood, right?

My mother gave the most helpful comment: "It looks pretty. You might be able to sell them - but I'm not sure how durable they'd be."

I then retreated to my room, ran a few tests, and announced that it had stayed put on my wrist through five minutes of strenuous air-guitaring.

"Hmm," she said.

My brother either said "No way" or "Go away" when I asked whether he'd buy one. So much for the male teenage market. (And, probably, 75% of my business.)

The cat was noncommittal. The dog tried to lick it. (Note - experiment with bacon scent to appeal to both canine and male teenage markets.)

One of our parakeets was terrified of it. The other squawked at it vigorously. Not quite sure what that means for Promigami demand among the avian community.

The chickens pecked at it, which is either a good thing (looks real enough to fool connoisseurs of garden flowers) or a bad thing (looks sad enough that they decided to put it out of its misery).

The world's only Promigami corsage is currently stuffed in my dresser drawer. As for whether you'll be able to order one anytime soon, I think the parakeet put it best: "CHEEPsqueaksqueak- CHEEPCHEEPsquawkpippipCHEEP!"