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Leave 2019 behind for a moment and go back to a sweeter, simpler time with this branding and packaging for Penny & Rose LLC home fragrances. There now, don’t you feel better? 

Penny candy was more about the experience than the candy itself.  It was about taking your cousin or sibling with you and salivating over, what felt like, a gazillion choices of candy. It was about grabbing a brown bag and filling it to the very brim.  It was about the trust that the proprietor extended you. He knew you would sample the goods, and that was OK...

Penny & Rose Signature Bottles were designed with your home in mind, and we believe they enhance the aesthetic of any room.  Modeled after seltzer bottles from the 30s and 40s, our vintage-style bottle with our custom designed seltzer bottle top may be used for fragrance diffusion, plant waterer, home decor, or anything your creative heart desires.  Continue reading for inspiration.

 

PART II  |  It is in these later moments of my life that I think about what the future holds for all I have been fortunate to know throughout my life.  I hope and pray for their successes, happiness, health, and love. May their futures be in peace with all the peoples of the world.  I hope that they stay close with family, as family has always been the solid rock in my own life.  Michael J. Gessner Dec. 1915 - Nov. 2010

PART I  |  Before he died, Rose’s brother, Michael, recounted his storied life, from his humble roots in western Pennsylvania to his countless adventures of love and service in the U.S. Navy. It’s a sweet and cinematic journey of a man scanning his memory with gratitude at a life well lived. These are his words, and this is his story.

Penny & Rose were married in 1937 and bought their first home three years later for $3,700. Penny continued to work in his native Glassport, a small mill town in western Pennsylvania, and chose to work in the hardest, most dangerous part of the Copperweld mill because it paid the best...

I couldn’t wait to get out to the farm at the start of summer. The sound of country dirt road hitting our tires filled the car with unmatched excitement. When we reached the top of the hill, near the driveway to the farm, our dog, Whisper, would bolt from the car, just as excited as we were, to announce our arrival.

Snickerdoodles became a tradition at the farm and a favorite among my cousins and me. These weren’t your traditional snickerdoodles either. Picture this: a marshmallow dipped in warm butter, rolled in cinnamon sugar, then wrapped in a crescent roll and baked. We ate handfuls of these as kids, ran around all night with full stomachs, and never once regretted a single bite...

My grandmother, Rose, was legendary, and like all legends, seemingly stolen from a fairytale. Timeless and teeming with love and beauty, she was a sight to behold. She touched each soul she sheltered with a heart we all strive to emulate.  Unlike the flower that bears her name, she is not shrouded in mythology, and the memories we shared are far from exaggerated...

Sundays at the farm were all about fighting a sea of bodies to the bathroom, followed by farmhouse OJ, Rose’s famous breakfast, and a hearty debate over which church we would all attend that morning. Mater Dolorosa or St. Patrick’s? It would boil down to which church had the shorter service and, of course, the better donut shop nearby...

Late that afternoon, when there was enough sunlight to hold an hour’s play, we lined up tin cans on the porch and saw who could spit their seeds the farthest. If you hit a can, you were a champion; if your seed made it into the can, well, you were a legend. All the pain of the wasp stings was lost for a moment in fun and games, and the watermelon was sweet down to its last slice...