There is a particular kind of woman who cannot sit still — not out of restlessness, but out of reverence. Reverence for the world, for its people, for the stories that live in the hands of those who make things. Laura Tober is that woman.

Laura grew up in Chicago, earned a degree in Apparel Merchandising, and built a career in fashion — working her way from intern to Operations Manager at a women-owned small business on the city's North Side. She had the resume, the know-how, and the drive. What she also had was a passport that rarely stayed on the shelf.

She danced with the Himba people of Namibia. She tracked elephants on foot with the Hadzabe of Tanzania. She learned the ancient art of indigo dyeing in the mountains of Northern Vietnam alongside the Hmong. And somewhere in all of that — in all those fires and fabrics and faces — something was taking shape.

Then she became a mother. And everything she had been gathering — every color, every connection, every conversation over a crackling fire — finally had a name: Petite Protea.

We sat down with Laura to hear the story in her own words.

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In Her Own Words

Let's start at the beginning. You grew up in Chicago — how did the city shape who you are?

Chicago is in my bones. It's a city that doesn't let you be soft about things — you learn to have a perspective, to hold your own, to show up. But it also has this incredible sense of community and creativity. Growing up here, I was surrounded by people who worked hard and cared deeply about their neighborhoods, their families, their craft.

I think that's why fair trade resonates so deeply with me. Chicago taught me that behind every business, every product, every storefront — there's a person. There's a story. I was never going to be someone who forgot that.

 

You studied Apparel Merchandising and went into fashion. What drew you to that world?

I've always been drawn to the way clothes carry meaning. A hand-stitched hem, a particular cut, the weight of a fabric — these things communicate something. My degree gave me the technical foundation — design, production, the business of fashion — but it was my time working at a women-owned small business in Chicago that really formed me.

I started there as an intern and worked my way up to Operations Manager. Next, I worked for a woman-owned travel company. Those experiences were everything. I learned what it actually takes to run a business with integrity — with real people, real relationships, real decisions. And I learned it inside a culture built by women, which I think prepared me more than I even realized at the time.

"I learned what it actually takes to run a business with integrity — with real people, real relationships, real decisions."

 

Your travels are extraordinary. What were you looking for out there?

Honestly?  I was just following a pull toward places and people that felt alive in a way I needed to understand. Going into travel professionally, catapulted that desire.

In Namibia, I spent time with the Himba people. I danced with them and shared stories about my life as a mom. There's something about getting down to the basics of what we all have in common, that strips everything away. You stop being a tourist. You stop being an outsider. You're just a person with other people, and we want to learn what makes us different - and what makes us equals.

In Tanzania, I tracked elephants on foot with the Hadzabe — one of the last hunter-gatherer communities on earth. That experience changed the way I understand time. They move through the land with such presence and patience. Nothing is rushed. Everything is intentional.

And in the mountains of Northern Vietnam, I sat with Hmong women as they worked indigo — dyeing fabric using techniques passed down through generations. The color alone is breathtaking, this deep, almost spiritual blue. But watching their hands work, spinning, sewing and embroidering the cotton - understanding that this knowledge lives in them and through them — that's when I really started thinking about what it means to honor a craft. To pay someone what their skill is actually worth.

"Watching their hands work... understanding that this knowledge lives in them and through them — that's when I really started thinking about what it means to honor a craft."

 

Then you became a mom. How did that change everything?

In every way possible. When I had my first, it was the midst of COVID and travel was nearly non-existent. As it returned, I too, wished to travel again. I was lucky enough to take a few more trips to Africa before our second arrived. It was during my family leave that Imy mind wandered to something different  — more flexibility, more presence, more meaning. I couldn't just go back to business as usual.

But it was more than logistics. Becoming a mother cracked me open in a way nothing else had. Returning to Africa after my first, breathed a new light on my experience. Suddenly every woman I had ever met on my travels — every mother I had seen carrying her baby while she worked, every daughter learning her mother's trade — I felt connected to them in a completely new way. I understood something about their lives I hadn't before. And I believe they also saw that in me. 

I kept thinking: what do I have? What can I do? I have a background in fashion and production. I have relationships with artisan communities. I have a platform — or the beginnings of one. What if I used all of it to actually do something?

So Petite Protea was born. Tell us what it really is — beyond the jewelry.

Petite Protea is a bridge. It connects women artisans around the world with people — mostly women — here in Chicago and beyond, who want to shop with intention.

Every piece we carry is fair trade, handmade, and created in genuine partnership with the makers. But the larger mission is about what fair trade actually enables: education for children, healthcare access, clean water, food security. Economic independence for women who have the skill and the drive — they just need the opportunity.

The protea flower is native to southern Africa — it's a symbol of resilience and transformation. It blooms in harsh conditions - best after a wildfire. It doesn't need much. It just needs a chance. That felt right. That felt like the women I've met, the women I want to support, and honestly — the woman I'm trying to be.

"The protea blooms in harsh conditions... It doesn't need much. It just needs a chance. That felt like the women I've met, the women I want to support."

 

What do you want someone to feel when they buy a piece from Petite Protea?

Connected. I want them to feel connected — to the woman who made it, to the story behind it, to something larger than a transaction.

I want them to put on a piece of jewelry and know that it came from real hands, that those hands were respected and paid fairly, and that their purchase is part of something ongoing. Not charity — partnership. There's a big difference.

And I want them to feel beautiful. Because these pieces are extraordinary. The craftsmanship, the materials, the intention behind them — it all comes through. You can feel it when you hold them.

What's Next for Petite Protea?

More. More artisan partners, more stories, more ways to connect our community here in Chicago with makers around the world. I want to grow the impact — more resources directed toward education, health, and opportunity for the women and children in the communities we work with.

But I also never want to lose the intimacy. That's what makes this real. I don't want Petite Protea to become a machine. I want it to stay a conversation — between makers and wearers, between cultures, between women who might never meet but are, in some real way, holding each other up.

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Shop Laura's curated collection of fair trade, handmade jewelry at petiteprotea.com

Chicago-made with love. Globally sourced with intention.