I gave up on my company just a few short months after its launch. I was exhausted and burnt out. I had no money and a lot of debt. I’d gone past the point where quitting felt embarrassing; by the time I closed down the company it was the only thing I wanted, the only thing that I knew was right. I had built up what felt like a delusional amount of confidence in order to learn completely new skills like creating pitch decks, hair care formulas, and a study-backed ingredient list. Failing felt like proof that my confidence had been misplaced and it took years to build it back up. After pushing myself out of my comfort zone day after day for years, I knew that following the path of least resistance is what I needed next. I accepted a job with a great jewelry company, in the industry I knew like the back of my hand. I was good at what I did and it didn’t feel hard to excel. The team validated my competency and made me feel valuable. The job was part time and gave me space to (tentatively) work on my own creations while being very careful not to invest too much money in my craft. I worked on paying down my debt, first credit card debt, then loans, then tax debt to the IRS. I felt gratitude for my new slower-paced life; the roof over my head, long walks in the arroyo behind my house with my dogs, working from home with an inspiring remote team who trusted me, and the subsequent steady paycheck. It was soft, and healing and was needed. After over three years of walking this slow and careful path I felt ready for a change. But what was next? I wasn’t sure what I wanted but I felt ready to push myself again. Writing morning pages nudged back towards the creative path I had deprioritized.

I’d been hearing about The Artist’s Way for years before I picked it up; I didn’t think I needed the promised outcomes. It was my friend Liza, writer of my favorite fashion newsletter, Every Body Gets Dressed, whose enthusiastic praise of the book convinced me to give it a try. I began reading The Artist’s Way this past winter while I asked myself what I wanted next. I was trying to decide between two directions; did I want to pursue a different career path? Or did I want to commit to being an artist? I’d worked for a couple of years during my startup journey as a Community Manager for a group of female entrepreneurs and I missed mentoring other women and feeling like I was making a difference in their lives. On the other hand, I didn’t feel like I could ever give up making and designing jewelry. I’d also been blowing glass for over six years but I’d never challenged myself to make work beyond functional objects and I was still fixated by the material and its possibilities. At the time, this question felt impossible to answer but after day four of writing morning pages I wrote this: “I think I have some clarity. I think for one year I should really invest in my work”. That bit of clarity became an admission, something that felt scary to say out loud because once it’s acknowledged, everyone will know if you fail: I want to be an artist.

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So, the morning pages led me to admit my heart’s desire to be an artist. But what can they do for creative output? In the journal entry following the one where I had my bit of clarity, I wrote: “I wonder if it’s crazy to launch one new piece per month”. The morning pages are meant to be stream of consciousness, and that’s exactly how I write each morning. Sometimes they look a lot like a to do list, sometimes I’m working through an upsetting occurrence from the day before, or writing about what I’m thinking of making for dinner. Here are some random excerpts to illustrate my point: “this paper feels smooth”,“I’m glad I remembered to put the recycling out—yay!”, and “I feel like I smell pickles”. Yet somehow, without really trying, sprinkled throughout the pages, are ideas; mentions of forms I’m drawn to, materials I’d like to use, glass making techniques I’d like to try. I’m not sure why the morning pages work, but they do. Most of what I write are random meaningless bits of information about my life but I think the writing gets the gunk out, so there’s more space for creative thought.

I didn’t completely stick to the goal of creating one new piece per month, but as I continued my practice of writing morning pages, the ideas flowed from me, and more importantly, the desire to create expanded and pushed through. Between the beginning of this year and May, along with launching two new jewelry styles, I created eight glass works for a two-person show at a gallery in Santa Fe—my first body of exhibited work. Alongside these finished pieces, I spent hours working on a large oil painting that I plan on scrapping and completely restarting, developed several rolls of film, designed my new website with my friend Ellie, spent weeks perfecting a long letter to my 100-year-old grandma sharing memories of our times together, and experimented for months (with dozens of failed attempts to show for myself) to land at the eight finished works I presented at the show.

The two jewelry pieces: Calle Rings and Grande Jardin Earrings (sapphire).

A piece from the show: Figure no. 4

See more of my work →

I feel like I need to admit that I haven’t finished The Artist’s Way and that I write one full page in a relatively large notebook per morning vs. the three pages that the author, Julia Cameron, recommends, but I hope that conveys that the book’s teachings can be done imperfectly and still yield a great result. Maybe this piece finds you in your startup era, and maybe you’ll push through in a way that I couldn’t (go you!). Maybe you’re already perfectly content with your creative output and can teach me a few things. But if you find that you need a slower pace, a reset, I would encourage you to be gentle with yourself, to allow the path of least resistance to take shape, and to follow. When you’re ready, open yourself up to the possibility of what you truly desire, and maybe the morning pages can help you get there.

More soon,
Bec

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Here are a few things that gave me comfort:

• my sisters, specifically processing with them and listening to Hallelujah by Haim on repeat

• reading Liza Belmonte’s Every Body Gets Dressed while drinking coffee in bed on Sunday mornings

• Trader Joe’s protein pancakes

• driving my 1982 Subaru while listening to Hell of a Ride by Nourished by Time and waiving purple painted nails in the breeze out the window

• working from bed when having a tough day

• mornings at the gym with my sister listening to audiobooks, our favorite listen this year was Yellow Face

• voice notes

After loving All Fours by Miranda July I had that hopeless feeling that I would never read a good book again and subsequently read All The Colors of the Dark by Chris Whitaker (gifted to me by my Aunt). I fell in love with the flawed characters and they broke my heart and then healed it. I saw Anora twice in theaters I loved it so much, and if every show I watched was exactly like Scavengers Reign, I would watch a lot more TV. I enjoyed listening to Alesis by Mk.gee, saved money by making this granola, continued to make this salmon recipe on repeat, and discovered a love for raw shaved brussels sprouts in winter salads. My favorite use of money was on a horseback riding trip at Ghost Ranch with my mom and sister and a trip to Europe in the spring to visit loved ones. I was gifted a Kindle by my parents this year and I read two times the number of books I read last year (this can also be attributed to various social media detoxes throughout the year and easy access to literature thanks to the Santa Fe Public Library).

Here are some other favorite purchases in no particular order:

• permanent lip blush (the way it boosts my confidence when I wake up each morning is unreal)

• a vintage Hernan Zajar yellow knit dress from eBay purchased for a wedding in Morocco (pictured below)

• bright red wool blend socks (an Every Body Gets Dressed rec)

• a vintage Jil Sander vest from the Real Real (similar to this one)

• I repurchased this sunscreen five times

• this vintage Coach wallet with a removable strap that I can wear on its own or throw in a larger bag

• the aforementioned purple nail polish by Dazzle Dry (their unique quick drying and long-lasting system made me love nail polish again)

Favorite gifts I received:

• this red Babaà cardigan

• the JB Blunk x J.Hannah Continuum Ring

• birthday dinner at Eel Bar with my best friends

• merino wool top and leggings from Half Days (perfect base layers for snowboarding but also great for winter hikes and super flattering)

• the Kindle!

Most worn items:

• J.Hannah Identity Necklace II in silver

• Perfect Point Hoops in gold (price is going up from $620 to $795 on January 1st)

• a vintage braided herringbone chain from my partner’s mom (similar to this one)

• this men’s red cashmere sweater from eBay

• so many thrifted chunky cotton men’s sweaters that I purchased at Savers

• Sibling button-downs and thrifted men’s button-downs

• this Baggu

I’m most proud of going to therapy regularly for most of the year, being vulnerable on this podcast episode, perfecting this glass design over many months, and chipping away at my debt. I’m full of gratitude for my customers who made it possible to pay off $10k of business debt using revenue from my business this year. Creating the Memento Locket proved a difficult technical challenge and I’m thankful for my manufacturing partners in Santa Fe who had the skills and equipment to develop the piece and I’m extremely grateful for Kylie from Okay Fine who shared about the locket on her social channels. The Swirl Link Bracelet was a fun project, and I’m grateful for my partner who made the jig that allows me to make each link by hand. I’m especially grateful for my sweet support system of family and friends, and my job, where I get to work with people who I love; it’s given me security that I haven’t had the majority of my adult life. If any of you are reading this, thank you.

Happy New Year to you all! Lots of love,

Bec

My tunnel vision when it came to sustainability contributed to the downfall of my haircare brand. The solid shampoo I created (an alternative to liquid shampoo sold in plastic bottles) helps reduce plastic waste. I hesitate to refer to any product as sustainable, but it was certainly my intention to create a product that is more sustainable than traditional shampoos. Pre product launch, When I should have been saving every scrap of money and being as frugal as possible, I instead chose to have the paper cartons for the shampoo made using 100% recycled material in a wind-powered facility in Colorado. Sounds great, right? The cartons ended up costing more than the shampoo itself. If I had compromised a little on the packaging, by choosing a recycled carton made in China for example, I could have made a product that was more accessible, had a higher profit margin, and STILL contributed to my goal of reducing waste. My inability to make concessions contributed to the ruin of a brand creating products that cause less harm to the environment.

Mara Hoffman is a company that, over time, refused to compromise on sustainability. In 2014, the brand stopped using synthetic fibers, eventually moving to a DTC model to avoid overproduction. Over the course of a decade, Mara Hoffman continued to make strides in sustainability, eventually winning the CFDA award for environmental sustainability last year. According to The Cut, Hoffman attributes the shuttering of the brand (announced this spring) to the fashion industry’s inability to prioritize the planet and its inhabitants. For me, this begs the question: If we were willing to make more concessions around sustainability for a world that’s not quite ready for us, would more companies with good intentions still exist? It’s a disheartening thought, one that Mara Hoffman may not have been able to stomach. 

Last year I decided to move all of my jewelry molds from a small family operation in New York to an even smaller family operation in Santa Fe, NM (where I now live). The decision was a difficult one for me, yes I would be reducing my carbon footprint in some ways (no longer shipping castings from NY to NM) but while the manufacturer in New Mexico uses a recycled metal refinery for their casting grain (much like the one in NY did), they admit to supplementing their metal from time to time when necessary with whatever they can get their hands on (usually untraceable gold coins or bullion purchased from local sellers). I can no longer guarantee that my jewelry with cast components (most of my designs) is completely recycled, which feels like a huge loss. However, my close proximity to my casters, stone setters, and polishers might be the difference between staying in business and not.

The zero waste movement has been criticized in recent years for promoting an unrealistic or even elitist lifestyle. For consumers, the all-or-nothing approach alienates and shames those who aren’t doing sustainability “right”. I am admittedly guilty of taking this exclusionary approach in the past, but now I want everyone here. Everyone is welcome; do what you can, whatever that might be. Eating less meat each week is great, as is shopping at your local refill station for a few but not all of your household items. Creating a solid shampoo sold in a carton made overseas is still a step in the right direction and making jewelry using American-mined stones and metal that isn’t always 100% recycled in small batches isn’t on its own, going to destroy the planet. We’re allowed to be sustainable in some ways while failing to be sustainable in others. We’re allowed to try! 

I’m still figuring out my new views on sustainability but I do believe that fear-mongering and shame are counterproductive to the movement. In case it wasn’t clear, you are welcome here. Bring your Amazon Prime account, your liquid conditioner, your burger, your COS socks, and your car, let’s shop locally, wash our hair with solid shampoo, find treasures at thrift stores, eat plant-based meals, and ride our bikes together.

Love,

Bec 

Here’s my biggest takeaway that I want to share with other founders: choose a business that will allow you to do the thing that sustains you no matter what, no matter how rough it gets or how much you feel like giving up. Let me explain: the thing that sustains me, that I can never stop doing is creating. What was especially hard for me with Winden once the shampoo and container were produced and launched, the branding done, and the website live, was waiting to make enough sales so I could invest in creating the next product, which would have been a conditioner (a goal I never reached). I now look back on the years I remained in business with my jewelry company (formerly Winden Jewelry, now Rebecca Mapes), and understand that the reason I got through the hard times is because creating new products was literally always at my fingertips. I could spend a day carving a ring out of wax and have it cast in brass for under $10 the following day. In contrast, creating products for Winden took years and thousands of dollars. Surprisingly, it took losing my motivation with Winden to realize what kind of a business was right for me (essentially, the one I already had).

That being said (and while I hope the advice above reaches a few of the right people), NOBODY could have advised me against creating a haircare brand back in 2020. There’s nothing like the feeling that you can do anything (more on this in the previously mentioned podcast episode), and my experience with Winden helped me understand myself and what I truly want. Ultimately, I think many of us have to learn things the hard way and if that’s you, you’ll find your way too.

Recently, I’ve been creating new glass and jewelry, and I’m excited to launch a few new pieces before the end of the year. I plan on continuing to write about my experience being a founder, but I’ll also be writing about my work and creativity—I hope you’ll stick around!

Love,

Bec

Share

Since I started my company ten years ago there’s been an unspoken rule to show the world the best side of your business, the things that are going well, the beautiful backdrop covering the sagging walls of your shoddily partitioned Brooklyn studio. Maybe this mentality began with the launch of Instagram in 2010, or maybe it’s a no-brainer marketing tactic that’s existed forever. So we share about launching at Target, selling out on Goop, the massive amounts of holiday shipments leaving our HQ (“HQ” is a 100 square foot space in our garage or a glorified walk-in closet, and half of the boxes are just Christmas presents for family members but nobody needs to know that). And then one day we announce on Instagram that we’re shutting down, we’re in debt that we can’t crawl out of and we have no choice but to throw in the towel. If we’re lucky the algorithm will favor this post (even though it hasn’t seemed to favor an in-feed post for years) and people will see it and comment and share how sad they are and how much the company means to them. Alternatively, we’ll stop making/ordering inventory, slowly sell through our remaining stock, quietly stop posting on Instagram, and avoid the heartache of a public announcement altogether. 

What would happen if six months before closing we shared that our businesses might not make it? Is there a chance our customers would go to bat for us? Would that even make a difference? Or does keeping it a secret save us from a small amount of the inevitable shame and devastation that we’ll feel if we eventually close down? My company, Winden, recently made it on the goop gift guide and is participating in a six-month-long Madewell program; achievements that may have come too late. I’ve seriously contemplated closing the business over the last six months (there’s so much more to say about this but I’ll leave it at that for now). When I read all the heartfelt comments on posts about companies closing I can’t help but think that those are the things I need to hear NOW, not after I’ve chosen to shut down. But more than words of encouragement, I need sales; would being honest increase Winden’s sales? Do I say to my shampoo customers (some of whom have purchased upwards of six shampoos at a time) “Hey, we’re almost out of our scented shampoo and we can’t afford to reorder because the minimum order quantity is too high. If we don’t have a major increase in revenue we may never be able to make the shampoo again”? Or would that poke unrepairable holes in the carefully constructed world of Winden I’ve created? Would it ruin the aspirational brand I’ve built, forever? Does that matter anyway when you have nothing to lose (but your dignity)? I’m not planning on sharing this post directly with my customers but I know that in publishing this entry, some of my customers will know the truth, and that feels risky. So risky that I was considering never pressing the publish button but, as I contemplated, I received a text from a founder friend that changed my mind. 

I’m one of a handful of founders that I know who are currently considering giving up, some are giving their brands another six-month-chance, others can’t afford to keep trying and may have to shut down at any moment, and many of us are getting part-time or full-time jobs to try and keep our dreams alive. How do we know when to call it quits? What’s the last straw? I think it may be when quitting makes you feel relieved instead of devastated, but what if you feel both of those things? I set a revenue goal for Winden this holiday season that I’m not going to reach. I told myself that reaching that goal would be my sign to keep going, but I don’t feel ready to give up. So if that’s not my sign, what is? If it’s pure mathematics then it should have been over a long time ago. 

I welcome your thoughts and comments and if this entry made you feel less alone, please share it with a founder friend. 

All my love,

Bec

I’ve struggled to answer this question and my view has changed dramatically over the years. What I’ve found is that simply creating what I’m interested in without external validation is simply not enough.

In 2020, in an effort to create a life that I love, I separated my jewelry and hair accessory company into two separate companies, Winden and Rebecca Mapes. I hoped that my namesake brand could contain my creative practice and be a space where I put less effort into creating what would sell and more into pursuing my creativity. At that time I also stopped focusing on wholesale, which turned out to be another rather large mistake (maybe a topic for another entry). I started at zero with a new Instagram and had trouble moving traffic to my new website. I lost the pulse of my customer. My jewelry wasn’t selling well and ultimately my creativity didn’t flourish. Creating whatever I wanted without any validation through sales just wasn’t enough to fulfill (or feed) me. 

Here’s an example of me creating something that excites me, that fills my creative cup: 

Here’s an example of what people seem to want:

Although I’m proud of the content that I consider to be creative and beautiful, it just isn’t fulfilling when it doesn’t do well. The truth is that if nobody is there to see my work, I don’t think I want to create. 

I did a pop-up at Madewell in New York over the weekend and although there were some sweet moments and a couple of sales I couldn’t help but feel demoralized when so many people in the very busy store looked through me and my display of blown glass objects and jewelry (all of which I made by hand) as if we were invisible. The Madewell customers came to shop for clothing, they came with a purpose and they weren’t necessarily there to discover. 

So how do we find the balance between creating what we love and what people want to engage with or purchase? It’s hard to not spiral and wonder if what I’m creating just isn’t worthy of attention or sales but I think the truth is that I haven’t found my customer (and maybe the majority of Madewell customers aren’t the Winden customer). Maybe there’s still hope, but after ten years in business, that‘s a tough pill to swallow. 

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this entry.

All my love,

Bec 

Share Founder Feelings

Speaking of working your ass off and being completely exhausted; work-life balance was a prevalent subject last week with my founder friends. I think a lot of us are craving ease and wondering if that’s possible for founders. It’s easier for me to see the route to wealth and ease with service-based companies than it is for physical product-based companies. Jamie Sea talks a lot about wealth and ease for service-based businesses on her podcast There She Rose (thank you to Emily of Sibling for turning me onto the podcast).

Is it possible to find work-life balance (whatever that means to you) with a CPG business? It seems so far out of reach to me, especially because I make a lot of the pieces I sell myself and right now I’m not making enough money as it is, so it just feels like I need to constantly be hustling. The fact that I’m also working a freelance job and starting a new venture makes that all the more true. How do we find ease in our lives when there is so much to be done and so much we want to achieve? I’m over hustle culture and this idea that we have to torture ourselves for a while to eventually reach our goals, but I still found myself making jewelry until 10 pm one night last week. I don’t know what the answer is but I do know I no longer glorify the workaholic; constantly working is nothing to brag about. From now on my goal is to build a life that I love, and that means enjoying the day-to-day. 

Another prevalent topic was acquiring new customers. Founders who have been in business for a decade may have great returning customer rates but the landscape has changed and reaching new eyes just seems to be getting harder and harder. Similarly, our founders with newer businesses struggle with finding their first customers. Although so much has changed about Instagram, Miranda of Kiyani and Liza of Every Body Gets Dressed are proof that it’s still possible to use it to find new audiences. They have both cracked the code for reaching customers on social and after months of knowing this to be true I FINALLY am determined to put these learnings to the test with Winden. I’m on day three of posting low-effort reels and during my layover in Baltimore, my latest reel reached 10k views. This is more action than I’ve seen in many months and I hope it will encourage you to follow suit. Miranda has grown her IG following to almost 30k (she gained around 27k followers in less than six months). Liza has grown her IG following to 44k in a matter of months and has accumulated over 6k subscribers to her substack (way to go ladies!).

For many of us, it feels like there are so many obstacles to creating consistent content. It seems like the largest obstacle is not wanting to create cringey content or seemingly unprofessional visuals, but not having the time or budget to create content that feels truly on brand. I think the answer is to try to step outside of ourselves and maybe we can help each other do that. What content do you enjoy? Is it the hyper-curated, professionally filmed Merit video? Or is it the vintage seller talking to the camera and sharing a bundle she created for a client? I know my answer is not the Merit video. So why am I so afraid to create the type of content that I enjoy? To reiterate what was shared during our larger group call last week, just as we enjoy following along and seeing Miranda’s culture and her journey building Kiyani, each one of us has something unique to share. Your life may seem mundane to you but it’s likely exciting, exotic, or even profound to others. Something else to consider: how do you make content that isn’t highly produced that still feels authentic to you and your brand? I am committed to taking my own advice this time around, let’s help each other brainstorm in the new “content” room in Geneva. 

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this entry.

All my love,

Bec