For more than a decade, Perry Olson and Kristin Trainor believed they had cracked the code on running a sustainable, community-focused retail business. The two longtime college friends built Diesel and Lulu’s, a chain of six boutiques scattered across tourist towns in the Northeast, into a recognizable name by offering something different from big-box retailers. Named after two of Olson’s beloved dogs, the stores became known for their curated selection of European linen and knitwear, handcrafted jewelry from local artists, and a welcoming environment where customers could bring children, pets, and even coffee while browsing.
But today, that vision is under threat. The end of the long-standing de minimis exemption a rule that allowed businesses to import shipments valued under $800 duty-free has shaken the foundation of their business model. Since Diesel and Lulu’s relies heavily on importing small-batch, hard-to-find goods from European vendors, the elimination of the exemption has brought with it a wave of costs, confusion, and delays. Olson and Trainor are now questioning whether their boutique can survive under the new reality.
A Shipping Process Turned Upside Down
Before the policy change, ordering from a trusted European vendor was straightforward. Olson recalls how simple it used to be: send a quick text message, wire a payment, and expect a box of merchandise to arrive on the doorstep within two weeks. Now, however, every shipment is a gamble. What was once an efficient pipeline has turned into a bureaucratic maze riddled with hidden costs, customs paperwork, and long waits.
Olson shared a recent example that crystallizes the problem. She ordered $680 worth of goods from Europe, only to find shipping charges spiking to $150, up from $90 just a few weeks earlier. When the package reached U.S. customs, it was flagged, and Olson was hit with a $251 duty bill. The package would not be released unless she paid otherwise it would be returned to the vendor in Europe, with no guarantee of reimbursement.
“In the end, a $680 order cost me an additional $400 in fees,” Olson said. “That’s roughly 65% and that’s not a number I can absorb.”
Trainor, who has taken on the task of navigating the new customs rules, says the system is opaque and nearly impossible to predict. Duties vary dramatically based on factors as granular as a product’s material, shape, or even its province of origin. The lack of transparency makes it impossible for small business owners to plan ahead.
“You don’t know what you’re going to be hit with until the item actually arrives at a port and you get a surprise bill,” Trainor explained. “Every day is about mitigating risk. Do I want to place a $600 order if there’s a chance it could end up costing me $400 in duties? Or do I skip it and then not have that product available in the store?”
The Domino Effect on Communities
Unlike large retailers who can plan purchases seasons in advance and absorb shocks with wider profit margins, small boutiques like Diesel and Lulu’s depend on buying in real time. Their agility has always been an advantage, allowing them to bring in what customers want without overstocking, but now it leaves them uniquely vulnerable to sudden shifts in trade policy.
Olson stressed that the stakes go far beyond her own livelihood. “If my business were to fold, you’re not just talking about me,” she said. “You’re talking about our employees, about the fundraisers and community support we provide for local families and animals, and about the jewelry artists whose work we carry. The dominoes are going to fall indefinitely.”
Trainor echoed this concern, pointing out that policy debates often focus on the fortunes of big-box retailers or the auto industry, while overlooking the fragility of small businesses. Large corporations have legal teams, consultants, and the cash flow to weather regulatory shifts. Independent retailers, she said, are left to figure out a mountain of rules on their own without the buffer of big profits.
While Olson and Trainor are doing their best to absorb some of the added costs, they admit that prices will inevitably have to rise. But raising prices cuts against their founding philosophy. “Right now, you can walk into my store, try something on, and not have to check the tag before deciding whether you can take it home,” Olson said. “Looking good and feeling good shouldn’t be based on your income. That was always our vision.”
Multiple Crises Converge
As if tariffs and customs duties weren’t enough, Diesel and Lulu’s is facing multiple external pressures at the same time. Tourism, which is the lifeblood of five of their six locations, has dropped sharply this summer, slashing foot traffic at the very moment they need consistent sales to offset new expenses. “This is the last possible time people could tolerate price increases,” Olson said. “But all of these policy changes are landing on us at once, while other issues are already crushing us.”
On top of that, Olson noted that her self-employment health insurance is set to disappear due to cuts under the Trump administration, while Trainor said her father may lose his veterans’ benefits. These personal and professional strains converge, making survival feel less like a question of retail strategy and more like a fight against forces outside their control.
“We are just adorable little stores,” Olson said with a mix of pride and exasperation, “but we’re also a big part of how the machine operates. If small businesses were to fall in this country, it’s not just about the little bakery around the corner. It’s about half of our economy collapsing.”
