I still remember the day I welcomed my very first doll home. I stood in front of the wardrobe and frowned for three whole days. Why was it so hard to find an outfit that truly spoke to me?

The fit was often off, the fabric felt cheap, or the design just didn’t match the vision in my head. It was this obsession that sparked a crazy idea this summer: Why not just make them myself?

Dreams Setting Sail

In June, L-Rabbit was officially established. But my initial enthusiasm was quickly doused by a bucket of cold reality.

The biggest conflict came from defining our style. I asked every doll mom I knew. Some loved vintage Victorian styles, others preferred modern casual, while some were devoted to traditional aesthetics. Choosing a design felt like a battlefield.

“Is this bow too dramatic?”
“The embroidery is too wide; it will look strange on the doll’s scale.”

The most agonizing part was commissioning designs. I waited with bated breath for sketches from artists I admired, only to be disappointed time and again during the prototyping phase. The fabric texture was wrong, the silhouette made the doll look bulky, the colors were off… Every time a sample arrived, it felt like opening a blind box, and most of the time, the result was “Better Luck Next Time.”

Looking at the pile of failed samples and the burning hole in my bank account, I started to doubt everything. Are we too naive?

For a while, I couldn’t sleep. My mind was a storm of “How do we fix L-Rabbit?” constantly. Thankfully, I have a thick head of hair; otherwise, I wouldn’t have survived the stress-induced shedding. I’d wake up to find loose strands on my pillow, remnants of my midnight worries.

The Darkest Hour

By October, we finally produced a sample of the “Sweetheart” set that we were relatively happy with. My heart settled—but only for a moment. The sense of achievement was quickly replaced by a new anxiety.

I didn’t know how to take professional photos. I posted what I thought were “carefully shot” pictures, but the views were in the single digits. No one cared.

More sleepless nights followed. “Nobody likes this. Is it embarrassing to have such low engagement? Should I just delete it?”

It felt like dressing your doll up perfectly for a convention, but no one stopping to take a look. Refreshing the analytics page every day only to see emptiness left a hollow feeling in my chest.

What hurt the most was seeing other content creators releasing amazing work while our “child” sat in the corner, unnoticed. We started fighting. We started doubting. Is the product bad? Is the photography bad? Is our marketing bad? Or is it just… us?

For two weeks, we almost decided to quit.

Starlight in the Darkness

The turning point came from a buyer show.

It was an ordinary Tuesday afternoon. I stumbled upon a post from a doll photographer on the platform. She didn’t have a massive following, but she had taken photos of our “Sweetheart” outfit. I can’t remember her caption, but the photos were breathtaking. I don’t understand the technical jargon about composition or lighting, but the engagement was real. To me, a few hundred likes felt like going viral.

The comments section was full of people asking, “Camping for this!” (Waiting for release). The photographer even messaged me privately, saying she absolutely loved the touch of our fabric.

I teared up right there. Someone actually understood our heart. The sky that afternoon looked so incredibly blue.

Soon after, another well-known influencer in the community posted her photos. Her fans discussed it heatedly in the comments, and our backend finally started showing real orders.

5 orders, 10 orders, 20 orders… The numbers grew slowly but steadily. During the peak shopping season, it jumped to 35 orders a day. By November 13th, we broke past 300 orders.

New Challenges

After the joy came even greater pressure.

Our planned small-batch production was nowhere near enough. We had to restock fabric and reschedule the timeline. Even trickier, we wanted to optimize the first batch of “Sweetheart” outfits again—fixing tiny details that only we knew weren’t perfect yet.

My friend, Little Fatty, said, “Just ship it as is. They won’t notice.”

But we unanimously agreed: “No. We notice. We can’t let this pass our own standards.”

In the end, we adjusted two specific details on the pattern. Although it increased our costs, imagining the surprised expressions on the doll owners’ faces when they unbox the outfits made it all worth it.

A Final Word

Looking back at these six months, from being unnoticed to being recognized by 300 fellow hobbyists, what we are most grateful for isn’t the sales volume—it’s every single one of you who gave us a chance.

You made us believe that in this little world of BJD, sincerity is seen, and heart is cherished.

The story of L-Rabbit is just beginning. The road ahead is long, but we know that with you by our side, every step is worth taking.

May every doll find the outfit that makes them shine, and may every doll owner find friends who understand their passion.

(Attached are 3 photos taken by the lovely photographers mentioned above. Look at our beautiful “child”! Thank you for loving them.)