For a long time, my work centered on helping women trust what they knew, recognize the value in what they had built, and create brands that reflected it. I still care deeply about that.
But lately, I’ve been wondering what happens when we stop asking every interest to become an identity, every idea to become a business, and every creative instinct to become productive.
So I’ve been making things. Collecting things. Learning new things again. Selling vintage pottery live on the internet. Following the ideas that make me curious and letting that be enough for now.
I’ve never been especially good at staying in one lane.
I have degrees in art and design, a brain that naturally looks for patterns, and a long history of becoming deeply interested in things and then needing to know absolutely everything about them. That tendency eventually became a career.
I started selling my design work online before creative entrepreneurship had become quite the industry it is today. From there came branding, strategy, websites, programs, writing, speaking, community building, magazine publishing, and more reinventions than I could neatly summarize in an elevator pitch.
Pink Planter Club started with vintage planters and very quickly became something a little harder to categorize. Which is probably why I like it.
I find vintage and secondhand pieces that make me smile, style air plants in things that were never intended to hold plants, create small handmade objects, and sell an ever-changing assortment of treasures through live shows and online drops. You might find a mid-century planter one week, a miniature ceramic squirrel the next, and a plant stake I designed because I thought it would be funny.
There are no strict rules here. Just good finds, curious objects, and a belief that your home should have things in it that make you happy.
You're allowed to change your mind.
A successful chapter doesn't have to become a permanent identity.
Knowing when something no longer fits is its own kind of expertise.
Creativity gets weird when everything has to justify its existence financially.
Your work can matter deeply without consuming your whole identity.
Physical objects have a particular kind of magic.
Women deserve definitions of success expansive enough to include ambition, rest, reinvention, care, joy, money, creativity, leadership, and changing direction.
And spending time with animals is always a good idea.
I volunteer my photography through The Tilly Project, offering free end-of-life sessions for aging and terminally ill pets in Central Florida. It’s a way for me to use my creativity in service of something I care deeply about: helping families hold onto the animals they love.
If you’re preparing to say goodbye, you can learn more about the sessions and book a free consultation.
I founded Nora. as an independent digital magazine exploring women, entrepreneurship, identity, leadership, self-worth, and success on our own terms. It created space for honest conversations about ambition, reinvention, and the idea that there may be more than one right way to build a meaningful life.
For more than a decade, I’ve helped entrepreneurs turn complicated ideas, evolving expertise, and big-picture visions into brands people can understand and believe in. Through strategy, messaging, visual identity, creative direction, and web design, the question underneath the work has always been the same: does the way you’re presenting your work actually reflect who you’ve become?