Ten Things I’m Grateful for in 2025
The people and moments that held this STRANGE year together
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.