Jaime Glas is a doer. When she has an idea, she goes out and makes it happen. “It’s not like I’m sitting there thinking of a business idea. I just do it,” Glas says. “And I think, ‘well, if I wanted this, maybe someone else wants it, too.’”
That’s exactly how she founded her first company, in 2014. And that go-getter attitude is also how she bought her first home, five years later.
Glas launched HauteWork, a stylish OSHA-approved line of jumpsuits, pants, sweatshirts, and henleys designed for the female figure in flattering cuts and bold colors. The petroleum engineer had gotten the idea while interning for Chevron in Houston in the summer of 2011, when she learned that the flame-retardant clothing required on oil and gas job sites only came in men’s sizes. Petite and, well, not a man, Glas would cinch the waist and roll the legs and sleeves of her coveralls.
By 2018, HauteWork had grown so much that Glas left Chevron to run the business she’d been operating out of her Upper Kirby apartment full time. Glas sold HauteWork to the country’s leading safety apparel manufacturer and had left Houston for her hometown of Baton Rouge, where she hoped to put down permanent roots.
Glas’s 900-square-foot apartment overlooked University Lake—where capital city dwellers go to exercise on weekdays and meander into LSU’s campus on Louisiana Saturday nights. From her balcony she could peer across the water and into the charming Lake Crest community, where water surrounds oak-lined properties in nearly all directions.
“The ideal place to live in Baton Rouge is on the lakes. It’s this monumental place,” she says. “This has always been my favorite area, but I never really saw myself getting to that point.”
One spring night, while enjoying that view, Glas spied a moving box at one of the six coveted homes where the backyards flow into the system’s smallest lagoon, with a near-private waterfront. An idea quickly formed in her mind. And in a matter of days, the house in her dream neighborhood was hers.
Walk the short distance up the gravel driveway, past the black metal fence and the wet-nosed greetings from Glas’s brindle terriers Tiger and Valley, to a lush courtyard engulfed in banana leaves and palms.
Still, this is not the main attraction—a wooden pink arrow affixed to a tall oak tree pointing east makes that clear: “Lake that way,” it reads. The double doors to the left painted in a bright turquoise, almost glowing against the white brick exterior and all-black trim, instead seem like the place to head.
“Anyone who steps inside, the first thing they say is ‘I don’t feel like I’m in Baton Rouge,” Glas says.
And they’re on to something. A half dozen floor-to-ceiling windows and doors opposite the entry way greet visitors with unencumbered views of land, water, and sky that feel almost tropical.
“Some people say L.A., some people say Hawaii,” Glas says. “It almost transports you.”
Just off the house sits a curvaceous sugar kettle fountain—once home to koi fish and now a hydroponic garden for thriving papyrus reeds—under a billowy canopy of magenta wisteria blooms.
An arched pool with a sleek concrete deck fits around and behind the fountain feature like an offset puzzle piece that’s oh-so-pleasing to the eye, and a wide-open yard with verdant green grass rolls into the glimmering lake beyond.
A small dock with wrought-iron furniture and another pop of turquoise paint marks the end of the 16,000-square-foot property and the start of the public waterway. But Glas and her longtime boyfriend have extended the outdoor space via a motorized pallet they’ve nicknamed The Barge—a favorite spot for a glass of wine or to soak in the sunset on the water.
Just inside the entry is Glas’s living room, appointed with two lemon butterscotch chaise lounges, a hot pink velvet chair, and a large loveseat upholstered in a granny-chic floral pattern in the main seating area, set atop an asymmetrical grid of a black-and-white rug and glossy hardwood floors.
Vintage posters from the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival line the walls, and two golden standing lamps with multicolored feathers for shades sit on either side of a curved French blue settee in the back of the room.
A library with painted white built-ins flows off to the right through louvered French doors with large retro lucite pulls. Glas unwinds here, watching TV from the tricolored, jewel-toned sectional. A massive abstract painting by local artist Kelly Mills hangs above.
The bedrooms and a kitchen-dining space complete the U-shape of the home. In the primary suite, a palm-patterned bed frame faces a large window looking onto the lakefront grounds. And a giant soaking tub set inside a tiled shower completes the resort vibe.
A second bedroom nearby, with a compact bathroom lined with geometric grey and white tile, is decorated with LSU paraphernalia. Think class photos, game-day memorabilia, and a bejeweled purple-and-gold bra. Glas uses the deep closet in this room for her predictably maximalist wardrobe. Think garments made of tulle and studded with sequins in loads of vibrant colors.
The colorful theme culminates in a small dining area and adjoining open kitchen, which Glas has dubbed The Rainbow Room: A gallery of amorphous sculptures by Winifred Ross Reilly in every color along the spectrum is suspended on the wall to the right of a small round table, which doubles as a desk.
A bright painting of an ocean reef hangs behind, and, on top, a large-screen iMac and a swatch book of sequins, fabrics, and more for Glas’s latest endeavor, Queen of Sparkles, which combines so much of what she loves: color, bold fabrics, shimmering materials, a bit of college sports fan gear.
It’s now in roughly 400 shops around the country—including locally at Raspberry Rose in Rice Village, Soho on Woodway, and about a dozen others—and at press time was in the process of going international.
As for her home, Glas has big plans for that, too. Down the road she envisions updating the bathrooms, maybe a kitchen upgrade, repaving the deck around the pool—even a potential expansion.
But first on her list? “Add on a closet,” she says. “For sure.”