When I thought about packing my bags and heading out of town I felt... nothing. No FOMO. No longing. Just a clear, immediate understanding that I couldn’t even imagine going away for kicks right now.

And that’s when I realized something: it’s not that I didn’t want to go. I mean, who wouldn’t love a week or two of respite? It’s just that the thought of stepping away from life right now creates actual panic.

I was fifteen years old when I decided to throw a formal dinner party.

Not a sleepover. Not a casual hangout. A dinner party—complete with tablecloths and place cards and a four-course menu that I had painstakingly researched in cookbooks. I made pasta from scratch. I hired my older brother and his friends to serve. I was obsessed with every detail, not in a stressed way, but in the way you’re obsessed with something that lights you up from the inside.

Looking back, it’s such an odd thing for a teenager to do. Most girls my age were at the mall or talking on the phone. I was in the kitchen with flour in my hair, thinking about linens.

But here’s what I knew then that I’d spend years trying to remember: I come alive when I’m hosting. When I’m creating a space where people gather. When I’m thinking about how things come together, how conversations flow, what makes someone feel welcome the moment they walk through the door. That was me at fifteen. That was me.

While my friends are planning their family trips and book clubs and playdates for their kids, I’m building Retta Jane.

This is my spring break right now. This is my book club. This is what’s filling my cup and lighting me up and making me feel alive in a way that’s hard to explain if you’re not in the thick of building something.

I’m launching a womenswear collection. I’m opening a flagship concept store in St. Louis. I’m creating The Reading Room—this space that’s been living in my head for years. A gathering place for women. The details are consuming me in the best way. I’m thinking about design, about flow, about how to make women and girls feel seen and held the moment they walk through the door.

But here’s what’s honest:

I miss hosting dinner parties. I miss my friends. I genuinely do. There’s a part of me that looks at those heading out for spring break and thinks, “God, I would love that right now.”

And there’s guilt in that gap. The gap between who I’ve always been (the woman who travels, who throws dinner parties, who gathers people) and what I’m actually capable of right now. The truth is, I’m not managing playdates. I’m not as present with friends as I want to be. To those of you who know me—I’m sorry! I know I’m not showing up the way I used to, and I hope this is a phase.

That guilt is real. I’m not going to pretend it isn’t.

But here’s what else is real: I’m not drowning (at least, not every day!). I’m building. And what I’m building is feeding a part of my soul that absolutely needs to be fed.

This is the thing nobody tells you about entrepreneurship: it is a form of gathering. It’s a form of hospitality. It’s just not happening on a Friday night at my house anymore.

It’s happening in a concept store and a wine bar and a café where women can come together. It’s the same impulse, different format. I’m still creating spaces where people feel held and seen. I’m still thinking about the details of how things come together. I’m still that girl.

And it's happening through the programming we're planning for The Reading Room—etiquette classes, movie nights, author talks, gatherings where women and their daughters can connect. Because here's what I learned from that fifteen-year-old girl throwing a dinner party: hosting isn't just about the meal. It's about creating moments where people feel like they belong. It's about thoughtful details and intention and making sure everyone at the table knows they matter. That's what I'm building now, just on a bigger scale. It's party planning. It's community planning. It's hospitality as a business model.

And it’s happening in coffee dates with other female entrepreneurs who are building their own empires. We sit down for what’s supposed to be a quick coffee and it turns into two hours of commiserating, dreaming, problem-solving, celebrating small wins. Those conversations? That’s our girls’ trip. That’s our gathering. We’re creating community in the margins of our crazy schedules because we understand what it means to pour everything into something you believe in. That’s its own kind of hospitality.

Do I miss the dinner parties? Absolutely. Will I get back to hosting the way I want to? I hope so. But not right now. Right now, this is what my soul needs, and I’m not going to apologize for that.

I’m not sacrificing anything. I’m choosing what fills me up today.

And Retta Jane? She’s filling me up completely.

What about you? Have you found yourself pouring into something so completely that it becomes its own kind of gathering? I’d love to hear your story in the comments.

I used to be that person. (Okay, I’m totally still that person, but please keep reading.)

The difference is: this time I actually have a plan.

2025 was bananas. It was the year I started to build the roadmap instead of driving blind. The year I stopped winging it and started actually knowing where we’re going. The year I hired people who got it. The year I wrote it all down.

So 2026 isn’t about wishful thinking—it’s about taking a leap, but this time with a net beneath us. It’s blind faith, sure. But informed blind faith. Built on actual infrastructure, actual team members, and actual systems.

(Also? That’s kind of wild when you say it out loud.)

A lifelong friend recently shared that they always considered me an artist first, not a businesswoman first. An artist. And suddenly all those “strange turns”—leaving NYC, coming home, the pause, the restart, two businesses, interior design, fashion, magazine launches—they weren’t chaos. They were pieces of the same vision finally finding their full expression across multiple canvases.

Turns out my career hasn’t been a winding mess! 😂 It was a masterpiece in progress.

So, here are ten reasons I know 2026 is going to be something else entirely.

1. Weekend snuggles and weeknight dinners.

This one comes first because it’s the foundation for everything else.

There’s a ritual that happens most Saturday mornings in my house. The boys—Charlie and Rhodes—flank me on the sofa. One large blanket covers all of us. I’m holding my latte. My iPad is in my lap. I’m sifting through my magazines on Apple News. The cartoons (specifically, Grizzy and the Lemmings) are humming in the background. It’s chaos and quiet all at once.

I almost lost this in 2025. Not because I stopped doing it, but because I stopped being present during it. Half my brain was on inventory or deadlines or the next thing.

2026 is about protecting that; it’s about being fully there for weekend snuggles. About weeknight dinners where we’re not eating in shifts between meetings. About remembering that building an empire means nothing if I miss the small moments that actually matter.

I’m not doing another year where I choose the business over the breakfast table.

2. Womenswear collection launches (& knitwear returns).

The samples came in. They’re incredible.

Since the beginning, Retta Jane has been a children’s clothing brand. And we built something beautiful there. But womenswear has always been a part of the dream. Clothes for women who want to feel like themselves—timeless, intentional, unapologetic. Clothes that remind me of what was passed down from my mother and grandmother.

These aren’t precious pieces that live in your closet untouched. These are wearable. Office wearable. Playground wearable. Dinner party wearable. They’re designed for real women doing real things, not for Instagram. And the price-point? It’s going to surprise you—in the best way.

We’ve tested the factories. We’ve refined the designs. We’ve got the team in place. And we’re moving forward with a patent on one of our designs—which wasn’t on our Bingo card. That’s what confidence looks like. That’s what innovation looks like.

The womenswear collection launching in 2026 feels like finally stepping into the version of this brand I always imagined.

And knitwear is coming back! After the Evolution nightmare (if you’ve read my earlier Substacks, you know…), I couldn’t imagine being able to take on knitwear again. Too complicated. Too risky. Too many things that could go wrong.

But I found a new partner. And the ideas we’re developing? They’re different. Better. Smarter. We’re not repeating the same mistakes.

This isn’t a hope. This is happening.

3. Getting back to Parsons.

I started working on my Fashion Business Certificate and Fashion Buying and Merchandising Certificate at Parsons (the New School). Then a combination of chaos and life happened, and I had to pause.

But I’m determined to go back and finish what I started. Spring or summer of 2026, I’m back in class.

This might sound counterintuitive when I’m opening a store and scaling two businesses. But this is how I stay sharp. This is how I stay hungry. Going back to school, sitting in a classroom (albeit virtual!) with people, many who are just starting their journeys, being reminded of the fundamentals—it feeds the artist part of me that makes everything else possible.

You can’t build something beautiful if you stop studying. Plus, I love school.

4. New leadership role on the Girls in the Know Board of Directors.

I first learned about Girls in the Know when my stepdaughter was in fifth grade. We did a four-weekend program together through the organization and her school, and I was immediately struck by their mission: building confidence, resilience, and authentic leadership in girls.

There’s so much symbiosis between what we’re building as a brand and what they’re building as an organization. Both are about creating space for girls to become the ambitious women we need them to be. Both are about saying: you belong here. Your voice matters.

I was lucky to be connected with the founder in 2025, and after our first conversation, it felt obvious. Girls in the Know is where I should land. This is a place where I can do some good.

I’m taking on a new leadership role on their Board of Directors starting this month. I’m thrilled and honored. This matters to me in a way that goes beyond business.

If you have an adolescent girl in your life—daughter, niece, neighbor—you cannot gloss over this one. Look up the organization. They provide open dialogue in safe spaces along with fact-based information on the tough issues: body image, puberty, peer pressure, cyberbullying. The real conversations girls need to have with someone who actually listens.

Even if your girls are still young, look into this. Save it. Know it’s there for when they need it.

You can learn more at girlsintheknow.org. If you believe in this work, support it.

5. Protecting rituals with Tom.

After the boys go down, Tom and I have our show. We sit on the sofa. There is likely a cocktail involved. Together we watch whatever has captured us that season. It’s thirty to sixty minutes where we’re just...together. Not talking about the business. Not running through tomorrow’s to-do list. Just present.

And then we go upstairs and read in bed before sleeping.

Somewhere in the chaos of 2025, we stopped going on actual date nights. Real dates. The kind where we leave the house and remember why we like each other. That’s ending in 2026. We already have one in the books since January 1st, and the goal is to continue them—often!

(Something or someone was on our side for that first date night of 2026, as we were even able to book a last-minute table at Wright’s Tavern…IYKYK…good omen?)

Tom has shown up for every wild idea I’ve ever had. The least I can do is show up for him. Consistently. Intentionally.

2026 is the year I protect our little rituals like my life depends on it. Because honestly? It does.

6. Building our Retta Jane family.

I’m genuinely nervous about this one…and equally excited!

Right now, I have a team on the clothing side of Retta Jane and a team building out the interior design practice. Both are sensational. Both get the vision. Both are teams I would choose to spend time with even if they didn’t work for me.

But 2026 means we’re scaling. We are going to need specific people in specific places to make this work.

With that in mind, I can share that we will be hiring for two major roles:

Finance & Operations Manager - Someone to build our financial infrastructure from the ground up. P&L management, cash flow tracking, vendor coordination, strategic financial thinking. Here’s the thing: this doesn’t require a typical 40-hour work week. It’s flexible. It’s designed for someone who doesn’t want a 9-5 schedule. Perhaps it’s someone who stepped back from work to raise a family. Maybe it’s someone who’s simply done with the corporate grind. This role is perfect for someone who wants to structure their time in a way that actually works for their life.

Store & Hospitality Manager - Someone to run our retail space AND manage The Reading Room—our cafe concept that comes to life when we open. (More on that soon!) Daily operations, customer experience, team building. This person doesn’t just manage a store. They build out our brand and visual message in new ways every single day.

Both roles are critical. Both roles should be fun. Both require people who understand what we’re actually building.

If you’re interested, know someone who is, or want to learn more: reach out! I’m looking for people who understand the vision and want to be part of making it real.

Plus…I’m totally biased, but we have a fabulous Retta Jane family so far!! Come join our mighty team!

7. Pilates with BOOM.

I was on a solid three-times-a-week pilates streak most of 2025. Then autumn hit and I fell off.

But I’m getting back to Boom Pilates. Because Danyl Timmerman and her brilliant team have genuinely changed how I think about strength training. From someone who never liked working out, they’ve made it feel like something I want to do. (What a concept!)

It’s not punishment. It’s not obligation. It’s just... strength and stress release wrapped into one. It’s heavenly!!

There’s something about being in that studio with other women who are also building their own things, pushing their bodies, taking care of themselves while the world is falling apart. It grounds me.

2026 is the year I make that a priority again.

8. Feeding the artist in me—museums, exhibits, and cultural moments.

A little fun fact: my college minor is in art and architecture history. I spent years studying impressionists, as it was one of the first bits of art history I chewed on in high school. I even went to France with my high school art teacher to study the masters. I’ve always loved Berthe Morisot.

In 2026, the Saint Louis Art Museum is hosting an exhibit titled Women Impressionists and the Land. SLAM is one of the best things about St. Louis—it’s FREE, which is unprecedented and should be celebrated. So I’ll be there.

I’m also heading to the Missouri History Museum for “Made in St. Louis”—an exhibit on the incredible innovations and creations born right here.

On that note, I don’t think that most understand just how much was started in this city. The answering machine. Build-A-Bear. The ice cream cone. X-ray machines. 7UP. Gooey butter cake. The Eads Bridge using structural steel for the first time. St. Louis style pizza (don’t knock it). Ragtime and Blues music. The Lewis and Clark Expedition. The first US Olympics.

We’re not a flyover state—we’re a place with legacy. Maybe Retta Jane will be on that list one day?

Finally, I am determined to get to Crystal Bridges in Bentonville to see the Keith Haring exhibit dedicated to his lesser-known 3D work.

Side note: my son Charlie painted a portrait of himself at school last spring that looks uncannily like Keith Haring. I’m not the only one seeing it, right???

Feeding the artist means showing up for museums. For history. For inspiration that has nothing to do with business plans. It means remembering that all the building I’m doing flows from somewhere creative and real.

9. House of Dragons (and all the shows coming back).

Look, I absolutely recognize how silly this may read next to everything else.

But…House of Dragons Season 3 is coming!

And The Night Agent Season 2 is back—after a ten-year hiatus!

And Knight of the Seven Kingdoms is starting.

And The Night Manager Season 3.

Shrinking Season 3.

The Lincoln Lawyer Season 4.

Industry Season 4.

And probably a dozen other shows that will capture my brain and make me feel like a human who does things that aren’t on a business plan.

Sometimes the most important part of scaling is remembering to live. To have hobbies (yes, I believe that great television watching can be a hobby!) that do not feed the empire. Sometimes you just need to watch dragons blow fire at castles...and enjoy it. 🐉 🔥

2026 is the year I protect that too.

10. Opening the concept store.

This. Is. It. THIS is the thing.

We are opening a concept store for Retta Jane.

The store will be located in Clayton (St. Louis suburb), and will include the Retta Jane brand (childrenswear, womenswear, and some surprise additions), curated goods and housewares from around the world, and some vintage pieces. It will also house our Retta Jane offices, both the brand and the interiors.

The store will also include a ‘third space’ named The Reading Room. I am not going to give too much away, yet, but I will share that this space will allow us to really build and grow our community. It was inspired by my annual Chicago weekends with my mother and grandmother, and it’s different from anything else here in town.

This store is a culmination of everything I’ve been building toward for years. All the pieces are finally finding their place. All of the canvases are coming together.

It’s not just a board on my Pinterest. It’s real. It’s happening in 2026.

Opening this store isn’t just about opening a store. It’s about proving that you can build luxury from the Midwest. That you don’t need permission from New York or LA to create something beautiful. That an artist with a vision and a team that believes in it can literally build a gathering space that changes how women show up in their own lives.

In 2026, we’re not just scaling a business. We’re building culture.

So yes, this year feels different!

My father once said that you make your own luck. 🍀 It’s something that sits with me.

I do believe that there are greater powers than ourselves. I do believe in manifesting and that the universe will provide. BUT, I also believe that you cannot just sit back and wait for things to happen.

I spent 2025 building the blueprint.

2026 is the year we execute it.

If someone asks me to describe 2025 in one word, I don’t hesitate: bananas.

Not bad. Not unsuccessful. Just... bananas. The kind of year where you think you know what’s coming and then life decides to reroute you three times before Tuesday. The kind of year where you’re building two businesses, navigating medical systems you never expected to know this well, saying goodbye to something you love, and simultaneously saying hello to dreams you didn’t know were possible.

As we head into 2026, I keep coming back to the same thought: I have so much to be grateful for. Not in a polished, “manifest your best life” way (though, I do love a little woo-woo), but in a real, grounded, down-on-the-ground way.

So here are ten things.

1. The team at Retta Jane.

This is the first year I’ve had a real payroll. The first year I’ve had people depending on me for their livelihoods. It’s terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.

But what I didn’t expect was how human it would feel. These aren’t just employees. They see the vision. They understand what I’m trying to build. They show up with ideas and energy and this genuine enthusiasm that makes me believe in what we’re doing even on the days when I’m not sure. They’re cheerleaders. They’re collaborators. They already feel more like family than work feels like work.

I know I’m probably not supposed to operate this way as a boss. The whole authentic leadership thing is trendy right now, but for me, it’s just how I show up. And I’m grateful I found people who wanted to show up that way too.

2. St. Louis Children’s Hospital.

I just rolled off my third term on the board. Eighteen years. Eighteen years of watching this hospital do groundbreaking research, save lives, and care for kids in ways that change families forever.

It’s bittersweet. This place means so much to me. Not just because of what it does for our region—though it’s genuinely one of the top children’s hospitals in the country—but because of what it’s meant for my own family. Charlie and Rhodes have made us frequent fliers here. PICU overnights. ER runs (too many to count). Orthopedics. Infectious Disease. Toxicology (see my ‘snake’ story). Pulmonology. Physical Therapy. Surgery. We’ve seen them all.

The blessed kind of frequent fliers, I should say; our kids are okay. But being here, watching the teams work, understanding the depth of expertise and compassion in every department... it changes you. It makes you grateful for people who dedicate their lives to caring for children they’ve never met. I still don’t know how they do it.

I’m not done advocating for Children’s. I’m just grateful I got to serve alongside people who believe in and execute their mission.

3. Lydia Gilbert.

We met in 1999 as interns at Betsey Johnson. This was pre-email era, which dates us both immediately. We stayed in touch through handwritten letters—actual letters, in actual envelopes—through moves and job changes and different chapters of life. We’d lose touch for years, then suddenly orbit back into each other’s worlds like we’d never left.

She’s a force. Went to Central Saint Martins in London and possesses the kind of design talent that makes you sit up and pay attention. And in 2025, she launched her own brand: Combelle. Vintage-inspired, premium women’s knitwear. It’s been featured in Harper’s Bazaar. It’s beautiful and intentional and completely her.

More than that, she’s been the person who believed in my crazy dreams before I had any business believing in it. Her support, her connections, her willingness to put her reputation behind mine... that’s what led us to our new factory. That’s what’s bringing womenswear to life. But now we’re building alongside each other—both creating, both launching, both taking risks.

And this year, she became a mother. To what might be the most beautiful child on the planet (I’m objectively biased).

That’s the kind of friendship that matters. The kind where you’re both building your own empires while somehow still showing up for each other - often times via 30+ minute voice messages on WhatsApp. The kind that celebrates your wins like they’re their own. If you’re reading this, you need to check out her brand!!. Head to combelle.co.uk or follow her on Instagram @combelle.co.uk. This is design from someone who actually knows what she’s doing.

4. The baseline stuff.

Food on the table. A roof over our heads. Gas in the tank. A warm place to sleep at night.

I know this sounds basic. Maybe even a little preachy. But 2025 has been a year where I’ve watched real struggle. Where I’ve seen the broader world dealing with real hardship. And somewhere in the chaos of building two businesses and navigating medical systems and launching new collections... I’ve become really aware of how truly lucky we are.

The tornado that ripped through St. Louis on May 16th devastated neighborhoods that are still—months later—bearing the brunt of the destruction. And while our family was spared, I’ve watched my friend Ali Rand dedicate her entire year to helping rebuild. She’s shown up. She’s organized. She’s connected people to resources and hope when both felt scarce.

The older you get, the more you appreciate that your life runs on a baseline. That you can focus on big dreams because the fundamentals are solid. Not everyone has that. If you want to help rebuild St. Louis, or just see what’s possible when someone decides to lead with their heart, follow Ali on Instagram @alirand.

I’m grateful I do.

5. Companion Bakery’s mango iced tea (no lemon).

This one might be silly. But it’s also completely true.

The team at Companion Bakery who knows my order before I say it. Mango iced tea. No lemon. They have it ready when I walk in. I’ve probably consumed this drink somewhere in the range of 300+ times this year. It’s not an exaggeration to say it’s my love language.

I walk in freezing weather for this tea. I’ve planned my day around being able to get this tea. It’s the one thing that hasn’t changed in a chaotic year. (Thank you, Jodi Allen!)

When we move offices to Clayton next year, I’m genuinely going to miss the two-minute walk from our current space. Not because I can’t get a mango iced tea anywhere. But because this one—the one they know to have ready, made with whatever magic they use—it’s a small moment of being known.

I’m grateful for small moments of being known.

6. Tom.

My husband is wired exactly like me. Go-go-go. Never sitting still. This year he started a new position at work AND continued building software on the side (if you’re reading this and interested in what he’s working on, he’s actively fundraising, so slide into my DMs…hint: it’s utterly brilliant…and I’m completely biased, again).

He’s the ultimate cheerleader. Friends have told me their husbands would absolutely have a fit if they decided to launch businesses without every single plan and dollar firmly in place first. Tom just... trusts me. He knows that once something gets in my head, I’m going to execute it somehow, someway.

We’ve been through a LOT in the past eleven years. Real chaos. The kind that tests a marriage and then some. For now, we are on the other side of most of it; the steady ship feeling is real…and I am still madly in love with him.

I’m grateful for a partner who doesn’t just tolerate the chaos. He thrives in it too.

7. Sharing my voice (unexpectedly).

At the beginning of 2025, I had no idea this would happen. My brand manager suggested I start writing here, documenting the real, raw truth of building. Not the polished version. The actual version.

And something shifted. People started responding. Universities started asking me to speak. Strangers started emailing me saying that my story made them feel less alone in their own struggles. Entrepreneurs started seeing themselves in my narrative.

This wasn’t on my vision board. It wasn’t part of the plan. And it’s become one of the most meaningful parts of building.

I’m grateful for this platform. For the people who read these letters. For the permission it’s given me to be authentically, unfiltered, unapologetically myself in a business context. Instagram never really felt like my place, but here I feel completely myself.

8. The Bulletin.

We created a publication!! A real, beautiful, printed magazine featuring remarkable women and their stories. It ships with every Retta Jane order. It’s curated, intentional, and completely different from anything we’ve ever done.

The creation of this thing taught me something about what’s possible when you have a vision but you’re willing to let other people help shape it. Every woman featured in this publication brought her own story, her own expertise, her own way of embodying what Retta Jane stands for.

It’s not just a marketing tool. It’s become a gathering place. A way of saying: this is who we celebrate. This is what we believe in.

I’m grateful we had the bandwidth to create something beautiful in the middle of building everything else, and I cannot wait for the next volume!

9. The interior design practice is scaling.

For so long, Retta Jane was the main character of this story. But 2025 was the year I started bringing the interior design practice back to life. New team. New systems. New vision for what’s possible.

I spent a decade building that practice before I took my strategic pause. And now, watching it grow again—alongside the fashion, alongside the flagship store dream—it feels like a whole part of me got to wake back up.

I’m grateful for the rhythm of both. For the way they feed each other. For the reminder that you don’t have to choose. You can do both.

10. Bravo. Ghost Hunters. Bad TV.

Here’s my guilty pleasure: I have something trashy on in the background constantly. Real Housewives franchises. Ghost Hunters. Love Island USA. Whatever chaotic reality show algorithm recommends to me. I rarely watch the details. I just need the noise and the chaos and the background hum of human drama while I’m doing creative work or cleaning my house. (Note: I’m not sure what that says about me…I’m too afraid to ask!)

It’s my decompression. It’s the part of my brain that gets to just... zone out. Not think about strategy or vision or building or scaling. Just exist with some ridiculous storyline playing out in the background.

I’m grateful for this small, silly, unproductive thing that makes my days feel more livable. For the reminder that not everything has to be optimized or meaningful or part of the greater vision.

Sometimes you just need bad TV and a mango iced tea.

CLARIFICATION: I’m not saying reality TV is bad TV…in fact, I think it’s fabulous. I’m just saying I’m not watching documentaries or brain-stimulating content. Sometimes you need TV that doesn’t require your brain to be on!

As I look back on 2025—this bananas 🍌 year—it’s not the big wins that make me most grateful. It’s this collection of people and moments and small rituals. It’s the team I get to build with. The hospital that’s become part of our story. The friend - and friends not mentioned! - who believed in me. The husband who trusts me. The platform where I get to be real.

And the very good mango iced tea. 🥭

Here’s to 2026. I have a feeling it’s going to be something else entirely.

Soooo… I haven’t written in a minute. And there’s a reason for that.

We’ve been building.

A few months ago, we imagined what it might look like to gather remarkable women—women doing remarkable things—in one beautifully curated space. Women who don’t follow trends, who create spaces (literal and emotional), who show up as themselves even when the world said otherwise.

Today, that imagining is coming to fruition. The Bulletin Vol. 2 just dropped on our website, and honestly? I’m so proud I could burst.

See the full issue here: The Bulletin Vol. 2

Inside these pages:

A holiday in Charleston with an incredible mother/daughter duo who beautifully embody the essence of Retta Jane. A love letter to paper and memory with the woman who perfected the art of stationery. A conversation with the co-founder of Kate Spade—about building something beautiful with your best friend, and discovering what truly lasts. A deep dive into an antique boutique in St. Louis that’s doing something refreshingly modern. Gift guides that actually feel thoughtful. And a style quiz that might make you laugh (or recognize yourself).

But mostly? There’s a lot of heart in here. 💕

This is what comes from building without a blueprint. From saying “yes” to ideas that scare you a little…such as building a magazine from scratch. From believing that gathering women around beauty and style actually matters.

So this week, as we head into Thanksgiving, I’m grateful for you. For the community that made this possible. For the remarkable women willing to be vulnerable in these pages.

With love and gratitude,

Retta xx

P.S. Take the style quiz. I dare you.

P.P.S. Printed copies of The Bulletin ship with every Retta Jane order!

P.P.P.S. Our Black Friday sale lasts all week - 30% off entire order with code Thankful30 + FreeShip

I’ve been speaking to design students lately - first at Washington University, and just this week at Miami University (my alma mater). I love these conversations because I’m not there to lecture or pretend I have all the answers. I’m there to share the real, raw truth about starting creative brands - the messy, uncertain, beautiful reality of it all.

Design school taught me how to draft floor plans, and my night classes taught me how to lay out a clothing pattern. What it didn’t teach me was how to explain to a client why their “simple” request would require me to move mountains, bend time, and possibly perform actual magic.

After running both an interior design practice and a fashion brand, I’ve learned there’s a whole curriculum missing from design education. Consider this your crash course in the realities the professors somehow forgot to mention.

Timeline Expectations vs. Reality

What clients think: “Can you come over for an hour and just tell me everything I should do/change in my space?”

What actually happens: Being able to spit out some ideas actually requires me to measure every wall, window, and awkward corner to make sure my (hopefully brilliant) ideas actually fit in your space! I am the type of designer that needs to sketch as my first step. The last thing you want is a gorgeous room design that sounds amazing or looks wonderful on paper but leaves no room for that oversized sectional you’re in love with.

Drafting isn’t just pencil to paper - it’s solving a three-dimensional puzzle where every piece has to work with your existing architecture, your lifestyle, your budget, and the laws of physics. That “quick sketch” becomes detailed floor plans, elevations, and probably a few backup options because inevitably someone will realize they need the sofa to face the other direction after seeing the first design.

Plus, I have to factor in things like: Will that dining table actually fit through your doorway? Is there enough clearance around the island for two people to cook without bumping into each other? Can you actually reach the light switch from where you’ll naturally enter the room?

So yes, I can sketch a few ideas. But those sketches represent hours of measuring, planning, and problem-solving to make sure your beautiful new space actually works in real life.

The Real Cost of “Simple”

Customer: “It’s just a simple black dress. Why does it cost so much?”

The reality: That “simple” black dress is actually the most challenging thing to get right. As I was taught, the more simple the garment pattern, the more accurate it needs to be. There’s nowhere to hide imperfections when you strip away all the details.

When a dress has ruffles, pleats, or embellishments, small fitting issues get camouflaged. But a simple silhouette? Every seam has to be perfect. The shoulder line needs to hit exactly right. The drape has to be precise. One millimeter off in the armhole and the whole thing looks wrong.

Then there’s the fabric. A simple design demands better materials because the fabric IS the design. That black dress needs fabric that drapes beautifully, holds its shape, doesn’t pill after two wears, and photographs well. Premium fabric costs significantly more than fabric that just needs to look good from a distance.

Construction becomes critical too. Every stitch shows, so the sewing has to be flawless. The lining has to be perfect because you’ll see any bumps or puckers. The zipper installation needs to be invisible.

Simple doesn’t equal quick, and simple definitely doesn’t equal inexpensive.

That “basic” black dress represents hours of pattern perfection, premium materials, and meticulous construction. It’s not simple at all - it’s deceptively complex to make something look effortless.

Things That Will Make You Question Your Life Choices

Fashion edition:

• Explaining why our dress costs $200 when “you can get one at Target for $20” (see above section about why simple isn’t simple)

• Dealing with minimums: “What do you mean I have to order 500 buttons for a 12-piece collection?”

• Your entire shipment gets stuck at a port in another country due to strikes, rolling blackouts, global pandemics…

• Learning the hard way why we don’t produce domestically: When we were three buttons short on samples made in NYC, instead of using an identical button from their factory, they made us contact a local supplier, order a minimum of a dozen, and courier them same-day to their facility. Overseas, they would have just problem-solved and billed us for three buttons.

Interior design edition:

• The sofa that was supposed to take 8 weeks shows up 6 months later

• You fell in love with the perfect fabric that was listed “in stock,” placed the order, only to find out they closed the mill. You look for a replacement, cannot find the right match, and end up waiting 10 months until a replacement mill is found and production can begin again.

• Explaining why moving one electrical outlet requires permits, an electrician, and possibly a small sacrifice to the home renovation gods

• “While we’re at it, can we just knock out this wall?” - how small projects become whole-house renovations

• The awkward silence when you reveal that the “simple” custom dining table they fell in love with costs more than their car

Client Communication: A Master Class in Diplomacy

What you want to say: “That’s physically impossible and also hideous.”

What you actually say: “That’s an interesting direction. Let me show you some alternatives that might achieve the same feeling while working with the structural limitations of reality.”

You become fluent in phrases like:

• “That’s outside the scope of this project”

• “We could explore that option” (translation: no)

• “Let’s see what’s possible within your budget” (translation: absolutely nothing you just described)

The Supply Chain Awakening

Design school teaches you about color theory and proportion. It doesn’t teach you that your entire business can be held hostage by a factory in another country deciding to change their minimum order quantities, or that a backup vendor might interpret “navy blue” as “somewhere between purple and black.”

You’ll become an expert in phrases you never wanted to learn:

• “Force majeure”

• “Supply chain disruption”

• “Extended lead times”

• “Unfortunately, that item has been discontinued”

What Success Actually Looks Like

In school, success was a beautiful rendering or a perfectly executed project. In real life, success is when:

• The client loves the final result (even after changing their mind 47 times)

• Nothing caught fire during installation

• You managed to make a profit despite everyone’s best efforts to prevent it

• Your sanity remains mostly intact

The Skills You Actually Need

Design school should have included courses in:

• Advanced Marital Counseling (when the couple looks to the designer to make their joint decisions)

• Supply Chain Crisis Management

• How to Say No Diplomatically

• Emergency Problem Solving (also known as “Making Miracles Happen”)

• Small Business Financial Management (or “How to Price Things So You Can Actually Eat”)

The Plot Twist

Despite all of this - the timeline chaos, the budget conversations, the material disasters, and the client requests that defy physics - I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Because when it all comes together, when a client sees their space transformed or puts on a dress that makes them feel incredible, when all the behind-the-scenes chaos results in something beautiful and meaningful - that’s when you remember why you fell in love with design in the first place.

Even if nobody warned you it would require a degree in project management, a minor in psychology, and the patience of a saint.

Design school survivors - what reality check surprised you most? And potential clients - now you know why we ask so many questions and need so much time. We’re not trying to be difficult, we’re just trying to make beautiful things happen in a world that seems designed to prevent exactly that.

I told her what I always tell people—that I look for the window that cracks open when a door closes. If I slow down enough, if I really look, I can always find one. I’m weirdly good at finding silver linings.

It’s not easy. Fear creeps in all the time. But I try.

Another student asked if I ever wonder what my life would have looked like if I’d stayed in New York. I laughed because there are exactly two things I question about my past. The first: what if I’d stayed in St. Louis and gone to Wash U? (I was accepted. I didn’t want to stay in St. Louis. THE IRONY.) I would have studied fashion. I could have jumped into the industry immediately, right here from my hometown.

The second: what if I’d stayed in New York after graduation? What if 9/11 had never happened and I’d built the life I was planning?

Does anyone remember the movie Sliding Doors?? Gwyneth Paltrow’s character simultaneously lived two parallel lives based on whether she was able to catch a train. That movie has always resonated with me—the idea that one moment, one decision, splits your life into completely different trajectories. (It’s also one of my all-time favorite movies…I even had that pixie haircut…)

Back to the WashU student. I told them honestly—I think I would have built a beautiful career. Probably in fashion. And I would have loved it.

But then I said something that surprised even me: Would I have ever had the gumption to start something of my own?

I don’t think so.

The truth is, my greatest gift might have been the naivety I had when I came back to St. Louis and eventually started Retta Jane. I didn’t realize how hard it would be. How expensive. How many times I’d have to start over. If I’d known, I probably wouldn’t have done it.

The constant recalculation

I joke that I’m living my life like a Waze app. I’m constantly rerouting. A road closes, Waze finds another way. An accident blocks my path, Waze recalculates. Over and over and over.

And somehow—somehow—I always end up exactly where I’m supposed to be.

When I was accepted to Wash U and turned it down because I wanted to escape St. Louis, I had no idea that two decades later I’d be back here building a luxury brand. That the city I couldn’t wait to leave would become the foundation of everything I’m creating.

When I left New York after 9/11, devastated and feeling like my dreams had died, I didn’t know that experience would teach me the resilience I’d need later. That coming “home” wasn’t failure—it was preparation.

When I paused my interior design practice in 2018 to launch Retta Jane, I didn’t know that five years later I’d be running both businesses simultaneously, that they’d feed each other in ways I never imagined. But the window opened right when I needed it to.

The scramble between the reroutes

Here’s what I don’t want to romanticize: the rerouting isn’t graceful. It’s not some zen “everything happens for a reason” fantasy where I smile serenely and trust the universe.

It’s scrambling. It’s crying in my car. It’s fear that makes my chest tight at 3 am. It’s making decisions with incomplete information because waiting for perfect clarity means never moving at all.

When that manufacturer screwed me over for $33,000 last year, I didn’t feel like I was on some magical journey. I felt betrayed, panicked…furious.

But I also noticed something: I didn’t stop. The rerouting kicked in. I’m still looking for the window that comes from that mess—and I truly believe it will come back tenfold, somehow. I just have to stay alert enough to see it when it appears.

The gift I didn’t want

That naivety I mentioned? The not-knowing-how-hard-this-would-be? I used to think of it as luck. Now I think it was a gift I fought against receiving.

If I’d stayed in New York, comfortable and building someone else’s vision, would I have ever bet on myself? Would I have ever learned that I could survive doors slamming? That I could find windows? That I could keep rerouting?

I wonder...

Sometimes the greatest preparation for the life you’re meant to build looks like detours, delays, and doors closing in your face. Maybe there’s a cosmic plan, maybe there isn’t—but either way, those moments force you to get resourceful. To trust your gut. To believe you were given these talents and ideas and chutzpah for a reason, and it’s your job to follow through. To stop waiting for perfect circumstances and start building with what you have.

Trust the reroute

I can’t promise you that every closed door leads somewhere better. I can’t tell you that everything works out if you just “stay positive.”

What I can tell you: there’s almost always a window if you’re willing to look for it. Not because the universe is on your side, but because when you train yourself to spot opportunities in chaos, you become the kind of person who creates them.

I read a lot about this—not manifestation (I loathe that term), but the actual science of how our brains work. Neuroplasticity. The way we can literally rewire our thinking. My favorite book on this is Into the Magic Shop by James Doty, a neurosurgeon who grew up in poverty and learned as a kid how to train his brain to see possibility instead of limitation. (He sadly passed in July, but his work continues to inspire how I approach the detours.) It’s not woo-woo wishful thinking—it’s about training yourself to notice what’s available when everything feels impossible.

My life has been one long reroute. From New York back to St. Louis. From interior design to fashion and back to interiors again. From thinking I needed perfect circumstances to realizing that perfect circumstances don’t exist—there’s only right now, and what you choose to do with it.

Right now I’m in the middle of another reroute—building a flagship store, launching womenswear, growing my interior design practice. Some days it feels like too much. Some days I wonder if I’m crazy for doing it all at once. But I’m watching for the windows.

So yes, my life is a Waze app. It is constantly recalculating. The route keeps shifting. I don’t always know exactly where I’m going, but I trust I’m headed in the right direction.

I’m moving. And maybe that’s the whole point.

Rerouting... rerouting... rerouting...

And somehow, always arriving exactly where I need to be.

The future home of Retta Jane + Retta Jane Interiors

I’m currently planning the biggest expansion of my career - opening our first retail space - and I don’t have all the pieces in place. Including all of the funding. Most people don’t understand.

But here’s what I’ve learned about building beautiful things: the blueprint emerges as you build, not before.

Right now, my interior design clients are trusting me with six-figure investments based on work I did years ago. They’re choosing me for projects even though most of my current work is still in the pre-construction phase - no glamorous ‘after’ photos to show them, just blueprints, renderings, and my word that we’ll create something extraordinary together. They’re investing in vision over certainty, reputation over recent portfolio shots.

The original rendering for a client’s primary bathroom | The finished project many months later

The same happened with Retta Jane. I launched the clothing line without perfect timing, without industry connections, without a flawless business plan. Just conviction that timeless, beautiful pieces deserved to exist in the world - and the grit to figure out how to make them.

How the Augusta Tunic started in its first fitting | The finished product many months later

Here’s what I’ve discovered: the most sophisticated clients, the most beautiful projects, the most successful businesses - they don’t happen because everything is perfect. They happen because everyone involved believes in building something that doesn’t exist yet.

My current interior clients aren’t choosing me because they’ve seen my latest work (most of my portfolio is from 2018 and earlier, before I paused to launch Retta Jane). They’re choosing me because they trust that the same vision and ethics that created those earlier spaces will create something even more extraordinary for them.

One of my favorite kitchen designs…it’s still beautiful today, but was photographed years and years ago!

Let me be clear: building without a complete blueprint doesn’t mean building without a plan. I create forecasts, develop budgets, research markets. I work within carefully considered boundaries, even when those boundaries aren’t fully defined yet. The difference is that I don’t wait for every variable to be solved before I start moving.

The retail space I’m planning isn’t just a store - it’s a completely new concept for St. Louis. Picture this: Retta Jane clothing and home pieces, other carefully selected brands, our interior design studio, and a wine bar/café with reading room - all in one space. Community programming for women across generations, with the flexibility for book clubs to meet alongside board meetings. Holiday teas, etiquette classes, movie nights. A place where mothers and daughters can shop together, then stay for a bite and conversation.

Reading Room inspiration images from our Flagship deck

The inspiration for this comes from a 30+ year tradition I treasured with my mother and grandmother. Every year, the weekend before Thanksgiving, we’d take a “girls’ weekend” to Chicago. It was formal - no jeans allowed - and I could bring a friend. We’d visit museums, have long lunches, shop, and always end with wine and Shirley Temples at the top of the Hancock Tower. Those weekends created something I didn’t fully understand then: they were about more than shopping or sightseeing. They were about creating space for women across generations to connect over beautiful things.

Chicago trip from the mid-1990s, with my bestie Eileen

I want to take that feeling - the culture, the conversation, the intentional gathering - and give it to our Retta Jane customers not just once a year, but as part of their everyday lives.

It’s what urban planners call a “third space” - somewhere between home and work where community actually happens. Big cities have them everywhere, but nobody is really doing this in St. Louis, especially in Clayton where we’re planning to locate. I’ve already had conversations with women in corporate leadership who are eager to host investment meetings and executive gatherings in our café space. There are plenty of places in Clayton for men to gather - golf simulators, “Fight Club,” bars - but nothing that truly caters to professional women seeking sophisticated community.

A look into the ‘third space’, from our Flagship deck

We’re essentially creating the physical blueprint for what we’d like to roll out in our national stores one day, and the early response suggests we’re filling a real void. You don’t need to have a daughter to connect with what we’re building - though if you do, imagine being able to bring her to a place where ambitious women and beautiful things coexist.

What I’ve learned is that doors rarely open themselves. You have to initiate the conversations, ask for help, surround yourself with people who know more than you do. When I reopened my interior design practice this year, I didn’t wait until I had a full pipeline - I started having conversations with past clients, architects, builders. With Retta Jane’s expansion into womenswear, we haven’t launched yet precisely because we’re still perfecting the fit and details, but we’ve already begun conversations with buyers and clients to gauge interest and gather feedback.

The retail space represents the same philosophy. I’m actively having conversations with potential investors, landlords, city planners, other business owners who’ve created community spaces. Some doors will open, others won’t. But none of them would open if I waited until everything was perfectly aligned.

Retail inspiration images from our Flagship deck

What I do have is this: twenty-plus years of creating beautiful spaces and pieces for discerning clients. A growing fashion brand built on quality and heritage. An unshakeable belief that luxury retail can be more than transactions - it can be community, experience, relationships.

And sometimes, that’s exactly the blueprint you need.

The most extraordinary spaces I’ve designed didn’t start with perfect plans - they started with clients who trusted the process. The most timeless pieces in the Retta Jane collection weren’t born from market research - they emerged from understanding what actually lasts.

This retail space is the next evolution of that same philosophy: build something beautiful, figure out the details as you go, trust that the right people will recognize the vision before it’s complete.

Because here’s the truth about building without a complete blueprint: it’s not reckless. It’s the only way anything truly beautiful ever gets built.

If this vision resonates with you - whether as a future customer or potential investor - I’d love to hear from you!

The cave emergence…

Everyone else in the house was already taking advantage of the gorgeous weekend, tossing a football around in the front yard and cracking open a few beers. Meanwhile, I had just dragged myself home from my Interior Studio after pulling an all-nighter the night before.

Typical Friday afternoons at our college house on Spring Street

He told me it was one of his favorite photos of me because it perfectly captured my grit - I was always giving it ALL to my projects. (If you were an architecture or interior design student from that era, you'll relate. Everything was analog, drawings were all by hand, scale models were built from cardboard, AutoCAD was an elective. Think that dates me??)

Then my friend asked the question that hit me like a brick: Why do I keep taking things on - both personally and professionally?

I think my response was a nervous laugh. My friend wasn’t wrong asking. I take on a lot.

Let me paint you a picture: I'm on several charity boards and committees at my boys' school. I've chaired auctions and fundraisers. I'm running Retta Jane childrenswear and now taking on womenswear. I'm scaling Retta Jane Interiors. I threw speaking professionally out there on a whim, and it clicked - over the next quarter alone, I'm scheduled to speak at five different events, two of which are keynotes. Have I mentioned the needlepoint side-hustle?

St. Louis Children’s Hospital - Play Date

Our Retta Jane office lease is up next spring, so we're eyeing a retail/office space for which I hope to get a liquor license so we can open a "third space" that drives our community.

It's a lot. I'm not naive to the fact that seeing this on paper makes my own stomach drop. My best girlfriend candidly shared that she cannot fathom spending a week in my shoes.

The Reality Check

It's exhausting. It's stressful. It's a constant juggle - family, cash flow, clients, products, speaking engagements, board meetings, school committees. There are days when everything feels like it's spinning just slightly out of control.

But here's the thing: I wouldn't change it.

I do NOT know how to live any other way. There are days when I wish I could maybe hang it up for a few hours, and I do try, but inevitably, I'll pick up some other project that keeps me moving.

What Everyone Keeps Telling Me

People keep suggesting I need to prioritize some "me" time. You know, like reading a book on a Saturday afternoon or getting that massage. I do try, but here's what I've realized: all of this activity isn't stealing from my "me" time.

This IS my "me" time.

How I'm Actually Wired

I'm passionate about building things, seeing things differently, creating community. The rush of turning an idea into reality, the satisfaction of solving problems, the energy that comes from connecting people and possibilities - that's not work for me. That's what makes me feel most like myself.

Some people recharge by being still. I recharge by creating.

Some people find peace in simplicity. I find energy in complexity.

Some people need quiet to think clearly. I think most clearly when there are multiple projects competing for my attention.

The Question Behind the Question

When my friend asked why I keep taking things on, I think what he was really asking was: "Aren't you tired? Don't you want to slow down? Isn't this too much?"

The honest answer is yes, sometimes I am tired. Yes, sometimes it feels like too much. But slowing down doesn't feel like rest to me - it feels like suffocation.

I've tried the "balanced" approach. I've attempted to focus on just one thing. I've made lists about priorities and boundaries. But within weeks, I'm back to saying yes to the interesting opportunity, the challenging project, the chance to build something new.

What I'm Learning

I'm learning that there's a difference between being overwhelmed by chaos and being energized by complexity. I thrive in the latter, even when it looks like the former to everyone else.

I'm learning that my capacity isn't fixed - it expands when I'm working on things I care about.

I'm also learning that unless something is on my calendar, it will NOT happen. Self-care? Scheduled for Tuesday at 2 PM. Reading a book? Sunday at 4:30. New interior design clients for fall and winter? Well, those actually DO need to get on the calendar. We still have a few openings - reach out to us!

Coffee also helps.

Morning Latte number 1 of 2

To Anyone Who Recognizes Themselves Here

If you're someone who gets energized by having multiple projects, who sees connections where others see complications, who can't help but say yes to interesting opportunities - maybe you don't need to slow down.

What if we just need to get better at explaining to people (including ourselves) that this is how we are built to operate?

What if we need to stop apologizing for our capacity and start optimizing for it instead?

Because the world needs people who see possibilities everywhere, who can juggle complexity, who get excited about building multiple things at once.

Please tell me that I am not alone in this… Do you thrive on having a lot going on, or does my schedule make you want to take a nap just reading about it?

Anyway, he's doing better, and here's the post I've been wanting to share...

**

For the vast majority of my younger years, I just wanted to escape St. Louis.

You hear that a lot from kids here. It's almost like they don't know what they have in their own backyard, and I was definitely guilty of it. The city felt too small, too familiar, too much like home when I wanted an adventure.

The Dream Takes Shape

I followed my brother to college in Ohio because, honestly, I had no idea what I was doing at 18. But everything changed when I landed my first internship with designer Betsey Johnson in New York at 19. Suddenly, I was in heaven.

Dying fabric samples at Betsey Johnson - Summer 1999

My entire world revolved around the city for the rest of my college career. Every summer in New York, working remotely when I had to be back in Ohio, completely convinced this was my destiny. I even had a position lined up after graduation and walked with my class in May 2001.

There was just one problem - I had one class left to make up because I'd switched majors, and they were making me go back to Ohio for it. So I reluctantly returned in August 2001, planning to finish that one class and move to New York permanently.

Then came 9/11, and everything changed.

The Unexpected Return

I continued working remotely for a bit, but was encouraged not to move back to New York at the time for obvious reasons. So I found myself back in St. Louis, still absolutely convinced this was just temporary. I would be back in the city full time eventually.

I met my now ex-husband, an artist who had attended RISD and whose parents were from Manhattan. We both talked about moving to New York - it felt inevitable. But life has a way of happening while you're making other plans.

Dreams come and go, years pass, and you wake up one day (in my case, divorced) realizing you're still exactly where you started.

The Lost Years

For a while, I was genuinely lost. Newly divorced, not sure what I really wanted to do, going through the motions of a life that felt like it belonged to someone else. I had great friends and a great social life, but there were moments - quiet moments when I was alone with my thoughts - where I legitimately remember thinking that I would never live out those childhood dreams of working in fashion or doing something ‘big’.

I was living in St. Louis. I thought that ship had sailed.

I think it happens to most people. You reach a certain age and you start to "accept" your situation, your location, the cards you think life dealt you. You convince yourself you can't change it anymore. I heard friends talking about "settling" - for jobs, for relationships, for places they never really chose.

Celebrating my 35th birthday with girlfriends | My darling ‘single-girl’ townhouse

I was slowly accepting that maybe New York wasn't in my cards after all, that maybe those dreams were just young and naive fantasies.

The Wake-Up Call

I'm not sure what it was that made me finally wake up and realize that I am the only one in charge of my life. Maybe it was the fact that I had already left my husband and realized the world didn't stop spinning? Maybe it was watching other people settle and realizing I didn't want to be them?

What I knew for certain was that I didn't want to wake up at 90 and look back at my life realizing I didn't follow my dreams or trust my instincts.

So I became determined to turn my "crazy" ideas into something tangible. Baby steps at first - learning along the way, still learning now - but actually moving toward something instead of just accepting what felt like default settings.

Washington University night class to learn pattern-making

Finding My Person

That's when I met my current husband, and I realized how incredibly lucky I am because he turned out to be my biggest cheerleader. Instead of someone who made me smaller or more cautious, I found someone who believed in the crazy ideas and encouraged me to chase them.

It's funny how meeting the right person can change your entire relationship with risk-taking and dreaming big.

New York trip with my new family - 2018

The Revelation

Fast forward to now. I'm 46, remarried, mother to four children, and I cannot imagine leaving St. Louis. The irony is not lost on me.

I'm in New York all the time now for work, which feels like such a gift. It's still my favorite place in the world, and I hope to have a place there one day. But now I recognize what a blessing it is to be building from here.

I see our award-winning cultural institutions that rival any major city, our free museums and zoo district that make family life incredible, our phenomenal hospitals that saved my son this summer (and last week!), and our philanthropic community that shows up for each other in ways that still surprise me.

An impromptu afternoon at our (free) St. Louis Zoo | Wandering through the incredible grounds of our City Garden

The biggest irony? Now I travel to New York for work, bringing what I've built here to the place I once thought I needed to escape to. I'm designing luxury brands from the heartland and taking them to Manhattan, proving that zip code doesn't determine your potential.

What I've Learned

Maybe the lesson isn't about St. Louis specifically. Maybe it's about recognizing that sometimes the place you're desperate to leave is actually preparing you for something bigger than you could imagine when you were young and dreaming of escape.

I spent so many years thinking I needed to be somewhere else to matter. Now I'm building brands that matter from the place I couldn't wait to leave.

Turns out, home was here all along.

What about you? Have you ever come full circle on a place you thought you needed to escape? I'd love to hear your story in the comments.

May: When Nature Decides to Rearrange Your Plans

May 16th - an F3 tornado ripped through St. Louis, and my boys were at their beloved school when it took a direct hit. It happened right before pickup time, and I was at work when the messages started flooding in. First was from our nanny arriving on scene, then the Mom's WhatsApp chat exploded with updates.

The guilt of not being there myself to get my boys was immediate and crushing. Trees were down everywhere, the playground they love was completely destroyed, but (thankfully) the school buildings stood strong and everyone was safe.

You think about priorities a little differently after something like that - what matters, what doesn't, what you can control.

June: Building While Everything Shifts

Early June brought our newest team member who splits her time between St. Louis and NYC, giving us a little more help and breathing room. We also welcomed two new interns, one for each business, and suddenly our quiet office had energy and questions and the kind of enthusiasm that reminds you why you love what you're building.

We were just settling in to the new team dynamic when...

The Day Everything Changed

June 19th was supposed to be a quiet Thursday. Our (super)nanny had taken the boys to my mother-in-law's country property in Labadie, MO, for an overnight so my husband and I could have a rare night off.

At 9pm, we got the call. My six-year-old had been bitten by a copperhead snake.

We found ourselves driving out to Washington, MO to meet them at the hospital at midnight. A venomous snake bite - on my baby - during what was supposed to be our one night to breathe.

Hospital on the 19th, sent home on the 20th feeling cautiously optimistic, then back in the ER at St. Louis Children's Hospital on the 23rd. It was a complete whirlwind. Two rounds of anti-venom later, they sent us home with a walker because my strong, wild little boy suddenly couldn't walk properly.

There are no words for watching your child struggle to do something as basic as walking. There's no business strategy that prepares you for sitting in a hospital room wondering if the swelling will go down, if this is the new normal.

Back to Reality

The following week, I returned to work to pick up the pieces. Emails had piled up, client calls needed to happen, the interns had questions. The world kept spinning while mine had completely stopped.

By the Fourth of July, I was the kind of exhausted that sends celebrities to rehab.

Meanwhile, Life Keeps Building

But here's the thing about building something you believe in - it doesn't stop for tornadoes or snake bites or sleepless nights in hospital rooms.

On July 2nd, while I was still processing everything, our first publication in Frederic Magazine hit newsstands. Months of work, finally in print. Retta Jane featured in one of the industry’s most coveted publications.

The womenswear collection we've been developing was taking shape, new interior design clients were calling, and the business was growing even as I felt like I was barely holding it together.

What They Don't Tell You

No one tells you that some of your biggest professional wins will happen during your most challenging personal moments. That you'll be celebrating magazine features while your child is learning to walk again. That sometimes "having it all" feels less like balance and more like controlled chaos.

Maybe that's the real story. Maybe building something meaningful isn't about perfect timing or ideal circumstances. Maybe it's about showing up anyway, even when summer decides to test every limit you thought you had.

As August Rolls On

Watching this summer come to a close, I cannot believe all that happened. The highest of highs and the lowest of lows, sometimes within the same week.

My son is walking again. The tornado damage is being repaired. The magazine feature opened doors we didn't even know existed. The team is stronger, the businesses are growing.

And somehow, in the middle of all this beautiful chaos, I'm more committed than ever to what we are creating at Retta Jane.

Not because it's easy, but because it's worth it.

How was your summer? I'd love to hear about it in the comments below.

I had just re-launched my interior design practice after a strategic pause, while simultaneously trying to scale my fashion line Retta Jane, all while wondering if I had completely lost my mind. Sound familiar?

Here's the thing nobody tells you about building brands: it's messy as hell. And I'm tired of pretending it's not.

The Real Story

Twenty-three years ago, 9/11 changed everything. I was supposed to chase my fashion dreams in New York City, but life had other plans. So I came home to St. Louis and started building.

A luxury stationery company in my twenties. Marriage, then divorce. An award-winning interior design practice. Starting completely over. A strategic pause to focus on my new family. And now, scaling two luxury brands simultaneously while mothering four kids - two stepchildren (20 and 17) and two little ones (6 and 5).

The path hasn't been linear, but it's been mine.

Now I'm scaling both brands simultaneously from the heartland while everyone tells me luxury brands need to be built on the coasts.

Plot twist: I think they're wrong.

Why This Newsletter Exists

I started "Coming Home to Build" because I was tired of the perfect success stories. You know the ones - where everything falls into place, funding appears magically, and every decision was "obviously" the right one in retrospect.

That's not my story. My story includes:

• A five-figure vendor fraud that nearly broke me

• Crying in my car wondering if I was making terrible decisions

• Building two completely different luxury brands with no roadmap

• Proving that zip code doesn't determine your brand's potential

• Learning that the "right time" is a myth

What You'll Get Here

This is your backstage pass to watch someone figure it out in real time. No glossy Instagram highlights - just the truth about building beautiful things when life keeps happening.

I'll share:

• The weekly reality of scaling two brands

• Vendor disasters and small victories

• What it's really like to build luxury from an "unexpected" place

• The identity crises, strategic pivots, and moments of clarity

• How I'm proving that Midwest entrepreneurs can compete nationally

• And some lighter moments too - favorite finds, behind-the-scenes glimpses, and the little things that inspire the work

Who This Is For

You, if you're:

• Building something yourself and tired of perfect success stories

• Stuck in your own messy middle

• Curious about what it really takes to create something meaningful

• Ready to stop waiting for the "right time"

• Interested in the intersection of fashion, interiors, and entrepreneurship

Let's Build Something Beautiful

I don't have it all figured out, but I have grit for days. Join me as we prove that you don't need perfect timing, unlimited funding, or a coastal zip code to build something extraordinary.

The journey is messy, but it's also beautiful.

Ready to build without a blueprint?

Welcome to Coming Home to Build. I'm so glad you're here.