Two weeks ago, in my last report, I gave myself a project: go back to a list I’d started as potential pickup locations and see if any of them could actually be a partner or venue for a Cakehaus pop-up.

The goal was to use the two-week gap between these reports to follow through on the whole thing. The tasks were:

1. Research potential partners or venues

2. Write personalized pitches to each of them with ideas that align with both brands

3. Send first five pitches

4. Follow up on pitches (heavy on this one!)

5. Secure and start planning our first pop-up

I wrote it out exactly like that, and it did seem like overkill at first because I could’ve just written “try to secure a pop-up or partnership” in my to-do list. But I wanted to make it extremely easy for myself to follow through on this.

Well, I sent my pitches on a Saturday. A couple of days passed, and I received no response. On Wednesday, I set out to check task number four off the list and followed up with all of them. I asked if there was a better contact to reach out to, but mostly I just wanted to bump my message back up in their inbox.

A couple of minutes after following up, one of them replied with an email I could reach out to. And then, a couple of hours later, one of the businesses I was really hoping would reach back out replied with “We would love it!” And just like that, I marked the last task on my list done.

I think this was all a lesson in deciding you want to do something and then making the path to follow through so plain that you almost find yourself saying, “Really? This was what it took?” Kind of like checking off that item you’ve been putting off for weeks from your to-do list.

And now we have an actual pop-up to plan! House on Lang, the business we’re partnering with, is a house turned into a shop and community space. They host everything from markets and open mics to workshops and all kinds of events, so my idea was to do a Backyard Bake Sale. It will be in September, so it feels like the perfect way to wrap up summer.

I’m excited to start working on it a bit more and finalize our menu, which is already looking very fun. I’m thinking fig almond honey, salted caramel pumpkin, chocolate espresso!!! The idea lends itself well to testing new flavors and formats, so I am looking forward to trying out some new menu items.

I’ll likely have more to share in the next report, but for now, what I want to focus on is: things are moving!!! And apparently all I had to do was ask?

That part still feels a little funny to me. It’s hard for me to envision myself actually reaching out to businesses and treating myself seriously enough to believe I’m “worthy” of partnering with them. Sometimes it still feels a little like I’m playing house, which I know couldn’t be further from the truth. And, as if to prove me wrong even further, literally the same week all of this was unfolding, another business reached out to me (inbound, y’all!) asking to meet about a potential partnership or collab.

So if this isn’t your sign to just do what needs to be done to find out what’s on the other side…

Ultimately, it all kind of timed itself perfectly, because in the past two weeks, I also turned 26. And now that it’s been a couple of days, I feel like I can admit to myself that it was kind of bittersweet.

I was surprisingly sad to leave 25 behind because I’m so proud of who I became that year. Very dramatic of me, but it’s sickeningly nostalgic to talk about it in the past tense! 25 was the year I slowly started doing the things I’ve always said I wanted to do. I followed through with my own word. And never let myself believe that what I wanted wasn’t in the cards for me.

If you keep saying you want something, well then, eventually you should probably do something about it. And 25 was the year I finally flipped that switch.

To say goodbye to honestly one of the best years of my adult life, I drove to Melbourne, on Florida’s east coast, to watch the sun rise over the Atlantic. Then, later that day, my family and I drove all the way to Bean Point Beach on the west coast to watch it set over the Gulf. It’s something you can really only do in Florida, and it had been on my bucket list for a while. I’m glad I waited until this day, though, because it felt special to watch the sun make its full loop to end one chapter and begin a new one.

The next day, I actually wrote myself a letter. And deep in my word vomit of feelings, I landed on this thought that so many things that feel completely normal to me today once felt foreign.

At 22, I didn’t even have a driver’s license, and just a month ago I was driving back and forth across Teton Pass at all hours of the day, completely trusting myself. When I started my career as a designer, Adobe XD was the program to use, not Figma. And now, not only do I use Figma every day at my job, but I’ve trained entire teams to use it as well. All that to say… I think Cakehaus is on a similar path right now.

Running a bakery is definitely a foreign concept for me. There’s a myriad of things that still feel unfamiliar: building a brand from scratch in the food and hospitality space, baking production schedules, “best by” dates, figuring out events, allergies — the list could go on forever, really. But I keep falling back on the realization that these things might seem hard or impossible right now, but at the end of the day they’re just that: unfamiliar. Something I have to learn and eventually master.

And this year, that’s the sentiment I want to carry with me: trusting myself enough to know I’ll figure it out if I just keep exposing myself to the unfamiliar. Not waiting until something feels perfectly ready before acting on it, because that moment will probably never come. Sometimes all it takes is just making a list and following through.

I’m particularly hoping to apply this to content creation. In the background this week, I finally cleaned up all the bios and highlights and said goodbye to Hotplate (still kinda bummed that didn’t work out). I have a much better idea of the role Chief Eldest Daughter needs to play to support Cakehaus, and how it should all come together eventually. Essentially, I did all the work to make it easier for myself to press “post,” but I’m still stuck in this headspace where I can’t quite get myself to actually do it. So… maybe I just need to make a list!

Anyway, let’s rein this thing in. Mostly, I’m just happy. This report itself feels like a little nugget of proof that this whole format is working. The biweekly schedule gives me just enough time to actually go off and do the things, test and iterate, and come back with something, anything, to share with you, but not quite enough time to let everything stretch out until I don’t do anything about it.

So this is it: I tried something, it worked (although sometimes it might not), and we moved a little further, which is what it’s all about. Repeating this same process enough times until, eventually, it compounds into something bigger.

AROUND THE HOUSE

• Not the best picture, but please enjoy the ice cream cake / baked Alaska hybrid my mom made me. Chocolate cake layers, chocolate fudge, strawberry and butter pecan ice cream from Tillamook (of course), and a good layer of meringue. She was perfect.

  

• Will refrain from sharing another photo in bad lighting from my kitchen, but I finally bought a pizza baking steel for our oven. It had literally been on my wishlist for a year, and I finally pulled the trigger last week. We baked our first pizzas with Trader Joe’s dough, and it’s already so worth it. We’ve got a new hyperfixation!

• I turned the first page of my phone into “hope core” the other day, and so far I’m loving it. It’s so refreshing not to feel immediately drawn to click into a social app, and overall everything feels much calmer (minus my growing list of unread messages). I figured if setting time limits is not working for me, maybe making them harder to reach would?

  

Until next time <3

Wilda
Chief Eldest Daughter

I came back from my summer road trip a little over two weeks ago. Lis, my best friend, flew in from the DR to meet me after my annual team retreat from work, and we drove together through Utah, all the way to Idaho, Wyoming, and even Montana some days.

I knew I would come out of this trip feeling it all: grateful, inspired, in awe, nostalgic, sad, all the things. But how big all of those feelings would be, and how connected I would feel to everything we saw & experienced, was unexpected (but welcome nonetheless).

I’ve always been a mountain person. Some find it a little odd, considering I am from an island in the Caribbean after all. What they don’t know is I grew up mostly surrounded by mountains, tucked away about two hours from the nearest beach. We’d visit my family’s land, walk through the coffee, cacao, and avocado fields, watch the cows graze the pasture, and then, when the day was over, we’d drive back to Santiago, our home and the only landlocked major city in the Dominican Republic.

It wasn’t until later that we moved to the East region of the island in a proper beach town. Those were undeniably my most formative years, but the mountains were always nearby. And I felt a comforting sense of peace in knowing they surrounded me. Hurricanes would come and go, and I’d tell my mom, “Watch, the mountains will protect us.”

Moving to Florida, the flattest state in the US at that, was like whiplash. And while I’ve come to appreciate what makes it special and understand the importance of preserving and protecting the land here, being surrounded by hills and mountains will always call to me.

So yes, I spent a lot of this trip staring out the driver’s-side window (I promise I’m a great driver and we were safe 100% of the time) and walking through these places in awe of the mountains, the valleys, and everything along the way. But, as per usual when I’m visiting somewhere new, I’m also paying attention to the people, the culture, and all the little things that make up its character — the core/heart of it all, if you will.

And the one thing that stood out to me throughout the entire trip was that no matter where we went, how small or “random” the town felt, or how far or close it was to anything else, there was always something or somewhere bringing people together. We drove, walked, and passed by countless art markets, farmers markets, happy hours, themed nights at restaurants, rodeos, random street shows, and even car meets. We were somehow lucky enough to be there during fair week, too.

Every day, we’d drive through another seemingly uneventful town (not any less beautiful, though) and find people gathering somewhere for a reason, any reason at all. So, while the mountains definitely stayed with me, this was maybe what I needed most out of this trip.

As a founder, it’s easy to get caught up in the idea that “cool” things only happen in bigger cities. After all, those are the events we see online. The pop-ups, activations, parties, lines around the block, etc., are naturally more visible in bigger cities. And when you don’t live in one of those places, you tend to think, well, we can’t really do that here, or that kind of thing doesn’t happen here.

This trip made it clearer than ever that people live to gather everywhere. And maybe especially in smaller towns, where community feels less like something you get to pick and choose when to engage with, and more like something that’s happening around you all the time.

Anyway, sorry, I talk (write? ramble?) a lot. WTH does this have to do with Cakehaus?

Well, in my last report, I posed this working theory:

If the goal is to make cake part of people’s everyday routines and social lives, how do we meet people where they are and create experiences they want to be part of, rather than asking them to adopt another online platform or click one more link?

And… I think we might actually have to put this working theory to the test.

People don’t need another reason to be online. I fear the consensus is, “we want to leave the house.” We want to hang out with our friends, walk around a market, find a fun activity to do, or just do something outside of our normal routines.

I keep preaching that I want to make cake part of the everyday table and, well, somebody has to set the table so people can actually sit at it. So instead of trying so hard to make Cakehaus fit into this online-first model, I want to stop prioritizing reach (numbers are a double-edged sword) and go meet our community where they’re at.

So, what’s the project?

A few months back, I was working on a list of businesses I would love to partner with for preorder pickup locations, so I’m revisiting that list, but this time brainstorming a few pop-up concepts I could pitch to them instead. We also have a few markets coming up in September, which gives us a pretty low-lift opportunity to try some new, fun things. A limited-edition September flavor, perhaps?

And while market season in Florida slowly gears back up, I’m going to work on simplifying our digital presence. Figure out what we’re doing with the website, make customer orders a little easier to manage, and generally make sure the online side of Cakehaus supports what we’re doing IRL, instead of the other way around.

For now, I will not be talking about my personal enemy: content. I can only send her to voicemail so many times, I know, but… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

AROUND THE HOUSE

📚 Reading

I just finished Please Don’t Go by E. Salvador. Still trying to find the words to describe the emotional rollercoaster that was, and currently looking for my next read. Send recs!

🎧 Listening

• Ice Ice Baby - Vanilla Ice (no questions)

• the lakes - Taylor Swift

• My Rifle, My Pony, and Me - Dean Martin

• Dancing On My Own - Robyn (perfect end of summer song, imo)

🧃 Drinking

White wine, anyone?

I’ve been obsessed with Relax and Bartenura. Not too sweet, refreshing (much needed with the current weather), and affordable. The perfect drink for summer, if you ask me.

💻 Working On

Um. wilda.co is down, everyone.

I’m probably the only person who cares, but after 6 years of having a portfolio website, I finally decided it was time to let it expire and embrace this new chapter.

Definitely inspired by Lola’s challenge, Kill Your Darlings, a sunset challenge for multi-hyphenates, to properly exit the projects you’ve outgrown instead of keeping them half-alive somewhere on the internet because you’re too scared to officially let them go.

So, wilda.co as we knew her is gone, maybe forever. Instead of immediately replacing her, I’m focusing on building out the CED world over here and seeing where it takes me.

“Killing my darlings” is now one of my fav things to say. I recommend it ;)

📍 Went

Sundance Mountain Resort for our annual team retreat! I didn’t share much of this above, so here are a few pics, including a very special cameo. Genuinely the best job I could’ve landed and, as always, love Utah <3 Don’t let SLOMW scare you away.

🎬 Watching

Lis ended up staying with me in Orlando after our trip, and she wanted to watch Wuthering Heights, so we caught the ASL version on HBO Max.

Nothing made sense, which I did warn her about. And although we enjoyed the movie for what it was, we figured we might as well watch a more faithful adaptation while we were at it. So, we followed it up with the 1992 adaptation by Peter Kosminsky, and I am now recommending everyone watch both moving forward.

Until next time <3

Wilda
Chief Eldest Daughter

Pity party aside, I had mentioned in that newsletter that I had figured out a system to get sh*t done without burning myself out, and shortly after writing it, I knew something had to give.

The past few months, I’ve dedicated all of my creative energy—a.k.a. all of my second, third, fourth, and fifth shifts—into Cakehaus. Which is what I understood I needed to do at the time, but also why this second CED Report is arriving about two months later than anticipated.

The report kept getting pushed to “after I have X amount of posts up,” “after we get through this step,” “after, after, after...” Until eventually I realized that was the trap.

If I only write once everything is figured out, these reports become memoirs. And that’s never what I wanted them to be. I want them to be a record of what it actually feels like to build something while you’re in the middle of it.

Most days, I’m just collecting more questions. More talking points to bore my family & friends with. More theories to test. More things to figure out. But still I rise, I guess.

Anyway, let’s get into it.

OPEN TABS

“Making content” might actually be the hardest part of running a business in 2026

There absolutely is an art to influencing and content creation. It’s hard, it takes a ridiculous amount of time & dedication, and it’s probably the reason everyone and their mother isn’t an influencer (yet).

Going into this, I was wildly unprepared for how much it would take out of me. A 30-second Reel somehow takes hours.

Coordinating schedules with my mom (who’s the one actually baking, and shocker, we actually can’t bake and assemble everything back-to-back the way it ends up looking in the final video), deciding what we’re filming, figuring out the hook, setting everything up, cleaning everything up, editing, audio, captions, and even figuring out my phone storage... It all adds up so quickly.

Every week, I find myself thinking, there has to be an easier way to do this. And every week, I convince myself that maybe if I just try one more thing, everything will finally click.

Can confirm: I have not figured out the easier way. And the one thing still escapes me.

I keep reminding myself that all of these little efforts will compound eventually, and one day this will probably feel easier than it does right now. But in the meantime... it kind of sucks, and that’s the reality of the situation.

I'm starting to question if the preorder model is for us

We started using Hotplate on June 1st, so we’ve been on it for about eight weeks now. I genuinely enjoy the platform. It’s easy to use, looks great, and is what many of the food businesses I follow use. But we’ve gotten maybe two or three orders through it in eight weeks (!!!).

During the first month, I made a point of mentioning it on Stories multiple times a week and weaving it into our posts, but, admittedly, the lack of orders has left me a little short on steam.

I’m trying really hard not to jump to conclusions, because maybe it's just too early to tell. Maybe I need to do a better job at explaining how it works, and jumping from platform to platform isn’t going to help.

On the other hand, all the businesses in question are based in bigger cities, where there’s a much stronger preorder culture. Maybe our audience just isn’t responding to it the same way. Maybe people find it hard to trust a platform they’ve never used. Maybe preorders just aren’t what people want to see from us.

This one’s just a big fat question mark. But I’m trying to get better at asking why something isn’t working instead of immediately jumping into the solution stage.

The cake jar might just be our version of thinking inside the box…

The first reaction to our cake jars is almost always the same: “Wow, these are so cute.”

People love them. They’re highly brandable, convenient, and giftable. On paper, they check every box. In real life, though, they also limit what we can make. Every new product idea has to fit into a jar somehow, and I'll be the first to admit that it feels wrong sometimes. Some things (even cake) are simply more appetizing and/or just make more sense outside of one.

At first, I thought maybe this was just me overthinking it. Again, I am trying not to let every theory move straight into the solution stage, especially when the "solution" means walking into the kitchen with yet another idea for my mom.

But!!! She actually brought this one up herself. Every time we want to test something new, I have to design a new label, test color accuracy and readability, add one more thing to our print workflow, assemble it... and the list goes on. It adds another layer to an operation (if you can even call it that) that’s already incredibly lean because we do everything ourselves.

Ironically, the thing that would probably move the business forward the fastest, testing and iterating quickly without disrupting our customer experience, is the thing we've actually overcomplicated. It feels like we’re stuck in a loop: we need demand to justify testing new products, but we might need new products to generate that demand in the first place.

Four markets in one week

We went to four markets in a row a couple of weeks ago. One was really good despite the rain (shoutout, Tasty Takeover). One wasn’t great for sales, but it was a great spot for visibility. The other two were at a location we’d tried before, and it pretty much confirmed we probably shouldn’t go back.

Regardless, every time we put Cakehaus in front of people in real life, I think there is something there. Like maybe there’s an opportunity I’m not exploring enough.

I keep thinking about how Cake Picnic took San Francisco by storm, and people were gathering just to eat cake together. Clearly, IRL connection is something people are craving. And it makes me wonder if I’m spending too much energy trying to nail our online experience when maybe the bigger opportunity is simply getting Cakehaus into more physical spaces.

Anyway, lots to think about while I’m out at our annual team retreat for my full-time job, and then straight into a summer road trip, which will hopefully reveal some answers to me.

AROUND THE HOUSE

📚 Reading

I’ve been reading purely for enjoyment this year (and who am I kidding... basically every year before this, too). I’m taking a break from my usual cowboy/small-town romance world to read Please Don’t Go by E. Salvador. I’ve heard great things, so we’ll see.

🎧 Listening

• 1989 - Taylor Swift

• the cure - Olivia Rodrigo

• APESHIT - The Carters

🧃 Drinking

Kentucky Mules (shoutout to my favorite coworker-turned-friend for introducing me to these) and lattes from my brother’s new Breville.

Dominican coffee at Cakehaus might be coming sooner rather than later ;)

💻 Working On

My mid-year check-in. This report. Cakehaus content. The usual.

📍 Went

Sampaguita, a Filipino ice cream shop here in Orlando. Didn’t take any photos, but naturally, I left a Google review. Here’s a snippet:

“If I could replace every vanilla ice cream with their Sampaguita flavor, I would.”

A must-visit if you’re in Orlando, imo!

🎬 Watching

Last thing I watched was Love Island, of course. I did skip through the final four episodes (SORRY!), but Brinity won, and that’s all that matters.

Until next time <3

Wilda
Chief Eldest Daughter

It feels like this newsletter and I will always be in a constant push-and-pull, trying to find the balance between documenting and reflecting. Between wanting to share my observations and then convincing myself every post needs to be some grand showcase of creativity, identity, ambition, or whatever else I’m going on about that week.

For the past couple of weeks, my mind has been signaling to me that it’s time to come back, so after what feels like forever of not knowing which way was up, the timing feels good (not right, good).

And I don’t mean that to say every day isn’t still a constant whiplash of things, but I do mean I’ve built a much better system for holding everything on my plate (more on that to come). So it finally feels like I can come back and water this project that means so much to me.

In reality, it’s been quietly transforming in the background during the year or two I haven’t been consistently posting. It was Daughter’s House for a second, then it became Chief Eldest Daughter (my new moniker <3). I’ve been learning so much about what it means to transition from a fully online business (farewell, WILDA, The Studio) to working full-time while helping build our family business.

Another thing that quietly kept me away for so long was writing too much, too little instead of writing too little, too much.

To this day, I still feel like if I’m not writing long, elaborate essays, then I’m somehow not “doing Substack right.” Especially as the platform continued to grow, I started to believe I needed to write longer pieces to be a better writer among the growing crowd, or otherwise my posts wouldn’t be worthy of your attention. Almost as if I’m asking you to abandon the short-form dopamine hit for a bit, I must reward you with some deeply profound long-form masterpiece.

This week, though, during my occasional Substack feed perusing, I came across an article that made me feel seen:

the stories club

we should all write more short form

For years, I believed I would have to write a novel in order to call myself a writer…

Read more

4 months ago · 375 likes · 73 comments · lina

In it, Lina talks about the different ways short-form writing can exist and why we should do more of it. Observation notes. Personal profiles. Book reviews. Short stories. One line a day. And my personal favorite, Google Reviews.

While I essentially disappeared from my “online” life, I’ve actually been more active than ever on Google Reviews. Over the last two years, I created a system for documenting the places I want to visit, have visited, or simply want to remember for future reference. Restaurants, cafés, shops, small towns, random services, parks, and just about anything with a location pin attached. I save everything in Google now. I mean, entire trips are archived there.

I realized my social media saves had become a black hole, so I wiped them all and asked myself: if I’m not willing to save this elsewhere right now, is it actually worth adding to the digital clutter? Most of the time, the answer is no.

But the things I do bother to save become part of the larger archive I’ve been slowly building. And I think this is what I want these reports to feel like, too.

✨ Observation notes ✨

People always tell me to document the process and to share more about what we’re building with Cakehaus, and I wish I had a singular breakthrough moment to point to. Most of the time, I’m still somewhere between “this is becoming something bigger” and “we still need to figure out the next step.”

The goal is for this to be a scratchpad-style report on what’s going on in the life of a Chief Eldest Daughter (aka me 🧚🏻), which, right now, will mostly revolve around building Cakehaus with my family.

I still love the consistency and structure of numbers, though. Looking back, the period of my newsletter I enjoyed the most was when every post had a number attached to it. I still remember how satisfying it was to reach 52 and realize I had documented an entire year of my life. And, similarly, this feels like the beginning of a chapter I’ll want to look back on one day.

Two years ago, when I was just about done with being a designer 😅, I told my friend Lola that if somebody handed me my dream opportunity right then, I genuinely wouldn’t know what to do with it. Fast forward to this week, I told her, “Remember when I said that? I still don’t think I’d fully know what to do with it.” But it’s feeling more real every day. Or at the very least, the story I keep telling myself is sounding more and more convincing.

Frankly, I think that’s how life works more often than not. Sometimes opportunities aren’t skipping your doorstep; you just have to build the entryway first. And that’s exactly what these past two years of building Cakehaus have felt like: a constant battle of “Will this?”, “Won’t this?”

The experience of transitioning between two business models that are so drastically different has been both challenging and exciting. However, it’s made me realize this is truly what I want to be doing.

Otherwise, there’s no way I’d willingly spend hours obsessing over cup shapes, the psychology of menus, and the smallest (likely insignificant) details imaginable. Lola herself has asked me multiple times to please relieve her of the responsibility of sourcing materials with me.

And I want to share this process with you. For the person out there who has always wanted to build something, is actively building something, or has already been through it and simply wants to hear someone else talk honestly about what it feels like to be in the middle of it.

Because one of the most beautiful things about never deleting my old newsletters (which I also have Lola to thank for), despite disappearing for long stretches of time, has been getting to revisit versions of myself I would have remembered but never would have been able to fully return to. Old thoughts & feelings, tools & references I’ve come back to, and entire seasons of my life preserved through a series of newsletters.

This week feels especially significant because, for the first time, it feels like we all, as in my family & I, are finally on the same page about what Cakehaus could become.

Originally, Cakehaus started as a project mostly for my mom. After moving to Florida, I wanted to help her find the sense of purpose she lost when we all left the Dominican Republic. She had owned a bakery back home, and I wanted her to have that again here, rather than settle for a job she would hate.

But somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like just her business. I became invested not only in the branding but also in the worldbuilding of it all. My dad started wanting to expand the offerings. My brother started talking about wanting to work in the business full-time one day. And suddenly it became the North Star none of us had originally planned for.

I’ve always dreamed of building some sort of “family empire,” and I mean that in the least evil way possible, I promise. I just never thought Cakehaus would be the doorway into that dream. But I think it’s become the first manifestation of something much larger.

Which brings me to the question that’s been on my mind lately: how do you invite people into a world as you’re building it?

Design comes naturally to me (after years of practice, that is). Brands are probably my favorite things to dream up. I can build worlds in my head all day long. But translating that into content that makes other people feel inclined to stop what they’re doing? That part is a little harder, especially when the project is so close to you.

Because marketing requires you to let go of the “artist” perspective a bit. You can’t just say, “Trust me, it’s great,” or “It’ll be worth it.” At some point, you have to answer the question: what’s in it for me?

So this past week, I’ve been wrecking my brain trying to figure out how to move Cakehaus in the direction we want to take it. And instead of trying to figure out which trend to jump on, which carousel to post, or which content series to start, I found myself trying to unpack our new working tagline: Cake Culture.

And the more I sat with it, the more I realized I have already spent a lot of time thinking about what Cake Culture means. I just think I’ve mostly kept it to myself (are we surprised?!).

I don’t think Cakehaus has ever really been just about cake. I think it’s always been about the moments we’ve slowly stopped treating as meaningful and about creating a place for them again.

Somewhere along the way, cake became reserved for milestones, birthdays, weddings, and celebrations. But I think what we’re really trying to create with Cakehaus is a return to the whimsy.

Because so much of life is uncertain and outside our control (hello, gas prices, and wars no one wants), I think there’s something strong & meaningful about allowing ourselves a little bit of joy in the middle of all of it.

People are craving things that feel warm again. Things that remind us life is happening right now, not just on special occasions or happy moments. That’s what Cake Culture stands for.

Maybe inviting people to the Cakehaus world, to live Cake Culture, is just a reminder that everyday life is just as romantic, special, and worthy of celebration.

Until next time <3

Wilda
Chief Eldest Daughter

Somehow, Friday managed to both sneak up on me and take forever to get here. This week, I was hyper-focused on updating my website, so today’s newsletter is me embracing the chaos that is my brain instead of my usual, more curated and edited posts.

That said—my website is live! She’s simple but fun, and I love her. My favorite part is the homepage, which I designed to look like an email. I had this idea at the start of the year but almost gave up on it, thinking I couldn’t make it happen on Squarespace. But, as it turns out, with a bit of code and a lot of help from my friend, Lola, I was able to make it happen after all. I also refreshed my portfolio, and since it’s much more streamlined now, I’m hoping to keep it updated with new projects (wishful thinking, I know).

If you take a look, I’d love to know what you think!

This Week’s Rabbit Holes

Naturally, while working on my website, I found myself taking one too many breaks and going down quite a few rabbit holes. I wasn’t expecting my post on embracing the rabbit hole to resonate as much as it did, but clearly, we’re all fans of a deep dive. I figured I’d do a part two—so let me bring you along my rabbit holes for the week:

This Property in Bristol, Maine

To be honest, I'm not sure how I came across this property, considering it’s not even for sale. Despite being unable to afford it now (keyword: now), I had to save this link because if anyone ever asks about my dream home, this just might be it. Though I don’t typically lean toward coastal homes, everything else about this house is just perfect. It was built in 1790 and sits on almost 30 acres. There’s not much info about it besides the photos, which I assume are from when it was last sold in 2021 (for $1.6 million if you’re curious, like me). If I ever become a millionaire, you’ll find me in a place like this—unbothered, always overdressed, eating well, and tackling a new personal project all the time. If anyone happens to know the current owners…please let me visit!

Early American Colonial Homes

The Maine property led me down a rabbit hole of homes of that era. Along the way, I found two new sites to keep tabs on:

• HistoricProperties.com

• OldHousesUSA.com

While scrolling through listings, I stumbled on what might be my actual dream home (this one is actually for sale, but way over my budget). The hills, the red barn, the interior details—I’m obsessed with almost every aspect of this home. It would’ve been every aspect until I got to the picture below… I seriously had to do a double-take.

“What If I Started a Wedding Venue?”

Seeing these beautiful properties and historic homes made me wonder: should I start a wedding venue?! I really can’t help but laugh at myself. I’ve always been slightly obsessed with weddings, and I’ve always known that when (keyword: when) I own land, I want to have a dedicated event space.

To my surprise, wedding venues aren’t as profitable as they sound. Given some of the prices I see mentioned these days, I would've assumed otherwise, but like with everything, it’s not always as straightforward. Ultimately, if I ever open a wedding venue, I’d like it to be more of a personal experience—like the bed & breakfast of wedding venues—which means it might not necessarily be my most profitable business idea, but that’s okay!

The History of Tourism

I’ve always had conflicting thoughts about tourism, so this is a topic I’ve been wanting to read about for a while. I watch a lot of period pieces (as you’ve probably figured out), and they always remind me of how inaccessible travel was for centuries. Most people only traveled every few years for family visits or religious purposes. The massive surge in tourism is more recent than one might think. If you’re interested in reading about it, I particularly enjoyed these articles:

• Britannica: The History of Tourism

• JSTOR: How Tourism Began

• Cultural Tourism: The History of Travel

Now, it feels like if you’re not constantly traveling in your 20s, you’re doing it wrong. In some ways, I agree with that sentiment. We now have the privilege of hopping on a plane and seeing places we never would’ve experienced otherwise—exploring different cultures, ecosystems, and ways of life in a way past generations never could.

At the same time, I struggle with the idea that being well-traveled is the ultimate marker of success. Travel is a privilege, but social media makes it seem like constantly being on the go is the norm. It’s as if being in a different city every week means you’ve made it. And maybe that’s true in one reality, but I think there’s just as much value in a life deeply rooted in one place—familiar is not a bad word.

I can never accurately place my thoughts on this, so I’d love to hear what you think—how do you feel about travel?

The Oldest Hotel in the World

Naturally, while on this topic, I came across the oldest hotel in the world, according to the Guinness World Records. The Nishiyama Onsen Keiunkan, located near Mount Fuji, has been open since 705 (I’m sorry, what!!!) and passed down through 53 generations.

I can’t even begin to comprehend what it takes to preserve something for over 1,000 years. This hotel existed before entire languages and countries. I always find myself thinking about the lives that have passed through the landmarks and even homes that still stand today—how they could have never imagined we’d be walking through them now, thousands of years later, and yet, here we are. Ironically, I might have to add this to my travel bucket list if I ever make it to Japan one day.

Side Notes

• 📬 Two-way mailboxes. I’m sorry, why did no one tell me these exist?! I saw a woman open her mailbox from the back the other day, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. On my way to buy one as we speak.

• 🪟 Uncovered windows at night. If I can see what you’re watching as I’m driving by your house at night… I seriously worry about your safety. Have we not heard enough stories? I know curtains and/or blinds sometimes don’t always work for every space, but there are so many options nowadays. Be safe—cover your windows!

• 💻 MacBook Air vs. MacBook Pro. In 2020, right after graduating college, my laptop stopped working while I was living in my hometown. There was no way to fix it locally, so I mailed it to my uncle in New York, hoping the Apple Store could sort it out. Instead, they told him, "Yeah, we’ll have to ship it to California… and you might lose everything on it." After that nightmare, I made a rule to upgrade my laptop every 2-3 years (I usually trade in my old one). I currently use a 14” MacBook Pro, but I also carry around a massive 16” Pro for work. With all the recent MacBook Air updates, I wonder if it’s a better, more portable option. Thoughts?

• 🪻 Brown + Lavender. Apparently, obsessing over color combinations is a new hobby of mine. Lavender has always been my favorite color (2 out of 3 things I own are probably lavender), and I typically love to pair it with red. But lately, I’ve been drawn to brown + lavender. Particularly in fashion, such as this look from Holzweiler's AW24 runway show at London Fashion Week. I also think this combination works well if you want to bring lavender pieces, such as this couch from Anthropologie, into your home, pairing it with browns in wood, rugs, and even tiles! Overall, I feel like colors that already exist in nature tend to go well together.

That’s all from me. Thanks for tagging along! Let me know what’s been on your mind this week—drop a comment, and let’s chat <3

With love from the house,
Wilda xx

In case you missed it…

The girl who closed out 2024 by recapping the 52 romance novels she read throughout the year. That same girl has not picked up a single book in 2025.

When you have a variety of interests and hobbies, you eventually accept that you can’t do everything all at once. Sometimes, I read an entire book in 2 days and pick another one up immediately after. Other times, I’m too enraptured in another hobby or activity to stop and read a book. But not reading every day—or even for weeks—doesn’t make me any less of a reader. Because while you can’t do everything at once, you can be many things at once.

The idea that we have to do something every day or on a schedule to claim it as part of our identity holds us back from trying new things. We tell ourselves, “If I’m going to be a reader, I need to read every day,” or “If I’m going to be a reader, I need to read x amount of books a year.” While some people thrive on that level of commitment (which I love for them), the reality for many of us is that our time, energy, and interests shift constantly.

Hobbies aren’t jobs. You don’t have to clock in, there’s no performance reviews, and all deadlines are arbitrary. No one is watching over you waiting for you to hit a certain page count or make a deadline. You don’t lose your “reader” title just because you haven’t picked up a book in a while—the same way you would lose your job if you stopped showing up. How we spend our free time will always shift to be in tune with how we feel at any point in time.

Instead of a job, I like to think of my hobbies as friendships instead. There are some friends you see or talk to all the time, the ones who are part of your daily or weekly routine. Then there are the ones you go months without talking to, but when you finally catch up, it’s like no time has passed. Some friendships are tied to certain seasons of life—they make sense in the moment, but over time, you naturally grow apart. Others are lifelong, always there for you when you need them. We don’t talk to all of our friends every day (imagine?!), but they are still your friends and they are still very much a part of you and your life. And I find hobbies are the same way.

Reading, for me, is the friend who never takes it personally when life gets busy, when I get caught up in a new project, or when I’m a little slow to text back. It never asks for more than I can give—it’s just there, steady and familiar, always ready to pick up where we left off.

So, while I haven’t read my first book this year, my TBR list is still growing for when I’m ready to pick up a book again (hopefully, as soon as I finish Outlander and break the spell I’m under—send help).

Books I didn’t get to last year

1. I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy. I’ve been wanting to read this since its release in 2022, but I haven’t fell the pull to read a memoir since then (I know, I know). I’m hoping I can finally get to it sometime this year!

2. Margo’s Got Money Troubles by Rupi Thorpe. I first heard of this book from Alisha Ramos at Downtime. Something about it gives me #GIRLBOSS energy and I’m kind of here for it.

3. The Wedding People by Alison Espach. I’ve seen this book all over my Instagram stories and came across it again when it won the Goodreads Choice Award for Readers’ Favorite Fiction last year. I’ve read lots of mixed reviews, but I’m still quite interested in the plot!

Book releases I’m looking forward to

1. Great Big Beautiful Life by Emily Henry. I only gave myself permission to read the last Emily Henry book on my TBR when she announced her next release. From what I’ve gathered so far, it’s giving me Book Lovers/Beach Read meets The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo and I’m all for it. The release date is April 22!

2. Wild Side by Elsie Silver. The Rosehill series was my introduction to the small-town, cowboy romance queen, Elsie Silver. Wild Love will probably always be my favorite, but I’m excited to see how the Rosehill world continues to grow in this new book. The release date for this one is March 4 which is right around the corner!

3. Say You’ll Remember Me by Abbey Jimenez. I have to admit I’m not a huge fan of the Taylor Swift reference in the title (SORRY!), but considering two of my 5-star reads last year were by Abbey Jimenez, I’m willing to set my bias aside. This one is set to release April 1!

Also on my list

1. Four Weekends and a Funeral by Ellie Palmer. I’m pretty sure I came across this book on Substack, but I can’t remember where for the life of me. I looked it up on Goodreads, and this review made me add it to my TBR immediately: “If Emily Henry’s Beach Read and Funny Story had a baby, it would be this book.” I’m thinking it’ll be my first read of the year!

2. Normal People by Sally Rooney. I have to admit I am a little intimidated by Sally Rooney’s work. Whenever I find myself considering picking up one of her books, the strongly mixed reviews push me away. I want to form my own conclusions, though, so I am picking up Normal People, which I’ve heard is the perfect entry into Sally Rooney's world.

3. Dominicana by Angie Cruz. I’ve been wanting to read an Angie Cruz book for a while now, a New York City-born Dominican author, so I figured I’d start with one of her more popular books. I’m also interested in reading How Not To Drown in A Glass of Water which is her most recent novel. All of her books have extremely nostalgic titles for me and I’m hoping to really love these!

4. The Outlander Series by Diana Gabaldon. As I’ve mentioned a couple times already, I am obsessed with Outlander. The entire series is based on Diana Gabaldon’s books, which, according to her website, she began writing in the late 1980s as “practice.” I am not sure when I’ll have the mental capacity to tackle all of these books, but I *need* to read them at some point.

5. I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman. I’ve been subscribed to Open Book Club NYC for a couple of months now, and this book was one of their January reads. The reviews on this book alone were enough to convince me that I needed to know what the hell happened on these pages.

In case you missed it…

Cover photo is my mom reading her borrowed copy of Eleven Minutes by Paulo Coelho in bed. Icon behavior.

Welcome to the life of an eldest daughter—the eldest daughter of an immigrant family, at that. It’s rough out here.

Looking at the current state of this country, I can’t help but think, “How do I fix this?” Instinctively (and naively) searching for solutions because fixing things is what we do. But there is a limit—and I’m feeling it now.

There’s a lot of fear in the air. And I can’t help but walk past people out and about, wondering who has a clear conscience. Simply keeping up with the weight of everything happening is exhausting—I can only imagine how much heavier the weight of being responsible must be.

I know the rise of digital nomads and “expats” has made immigration seem like a fun and pain-free experience. But let me, and the millions of other immigrants in the United States, tell you very clearly: it is not.

And yet, the way people talk about immigrants—the policies, the numbers, and statistics tossed around as if we’re not speaking of actual lives—it’s as if we’ve stripped every ounce of humanity.

It is not and has never been an easy experience. It is not a vacation, a gap year abroad, or a fun little experiment in “finding yourself.” For many, immigration is survival—a crushing feeling of homesickness and the unmeasurable pressure to prove that leaving was worth it.

“Come here legally.”

I’ve heard that phrase a million times—like it’s the catch-all solution. But what fair and accessible process exists to make it possible for people of all backgrounds to come here safely and affordably? I ask, knowing the answer: there isn’t one.

The truth is that “legal” (whatever that means) immigration to the United States is so far out of reach for most people that it often isn’t a choice. For those fleeing violence, poverty, or political instability, waiting years for a decision isn’t an option. Paying thousands in fees isn’t an option. Risking denial with no refund or explanation isn’t an option.

For reference:

• The average salary in most Latin American countries ranges from $300 - $1,200 a month (depending on location, industry, and experience level), with over 50% of people falling on the lower end of that spectrum.12

• The current price to apply for a U.S. tourist visa is $185.3

• The current price to apply for U.S. citizenship is $760 (if filing by paper) or $710 (if filing online).4

All fees mentioned above are per person and don’t include travel and legal fees.

I can only imagine the outrage that would follow if Americans had to apply and pay $185 to travel to another country, only to be potentially denied at the last minute. The average American will never understand what it’s like to have your life reduced to a visa application, to have your worth measured in paperwork.

According to the Henley Passport Index 2025, the US passport ranks 9th globally—meaning Americans can travel visa-free to 186 destinations.5 Meanwhile, only 42 countries can enter the U.S. without first applying for a visa.6 If that number shocks you, it should.

The system isn’t broken. It was designed this way.

Until we acknowledge the reality of immigrating to the United States—the cost, the risk, the years of uncertainty—we are not having a conversation about safety. We are up against a system that criminalizes desperation, punishes hope, and turns survival into a privilege. So, I will not be listening to empty rhetorics about “legal” immigration from people who have never set foot in an embassy, never prayed that their visa wouldn’t be denied, and never had to beg for permission to exist in a country that profits from their labor.

So, it’s time to preserve our energy.

How To Carry Less

Use your “not my job” pass

Everyone in our lives has convinced us that we must step up to roles that aren’t ours to fill. “Se dispuesta”, as my grandmother would say. Be helpful. Be accommodating. Be everything, for everyone.

• Before saying yes, ask yourself: Do I want to do this, or do I feel like I have to?

• Practice saying no without over-explaining. “I can’t.” “Not this time.” “That won’t work for me.”

• Delegation isn’t just for the workplace. “I don’t know. What do you think we should do?”

Pick your battles wisely

You cannot (and will not) win every battle. Some people don’t want to understand—they want to argue. I, for one, believe humanity is not up for debate. So, I will not be wasting my energy convincing people of my worth, my family’s worth, or the worth of all the immigrants who keep this country running.

• Before engaging, ask yourself: Is this worth my energy, or do I just like proving people wrong? (It’s okay to admit it’s the latter.)

• Sometimes, the best response is a question, not a fact. “Where’d you hear that?”

• Exit the conversation. “If that helps you sleep at night.” “That’s above my pay grade.” “Well, okay!” (My personal favorite.)

Rest isn’t selfish

The truth is, we cannot all be tired. They want you to be tired. A burnt-out you is easier to control and easier to dismiss. There are people out there who don’t have rest as an option. So, it’s on you to use your privilege wisely. If resting makes you feel guilty, remember exhaustion keeps you compliant.

• Before you keep going, ask yourself: Am I actually needed right now, or am I just afraid of what people might say if I am not active every second of the day? (Be honest.)

• You don’t get extra credit for working overtime. “This can wait.” “That’s a problem for future me.” “I’m calling it a day.”

• Take a nap. Seriously—preserve la siesta.

Stop getting your news from social media

Social media wasn’t designed to be a news source. And while it’s a powerful tool for awareness, constant doomscrolling doesn’t exactly equal being informed. The information overload is paralyzing us.

• Before believing everything you see online, ask yourself: Is this from a reliable source, or is it just engagement bait? (Misinformation comes from every side—people will spread anything for views.)

• Support journalism. Social media is about making headlines. Now more than ever, newspapers and journalists need our support. Subscribe, donate, or, at the very least, read the article before reposting.

• Set boundaries. We were not meant to learn about every crisis in real-time all day, every day. Create a schedule, take breaks, and step away when it’s too much.

Small moves are still moves

It’s easy to believe that if you’re not doing something big, you’re not doing enough. But impact isn’t only measured in size and visibility—it can also be measured in consistency.

• Before you give up, ask yourself: Are my expectations unrealistic? Is the problem that my actions don’t matter or that I expect change to happen all at once?

• Focus on what’s within reach. Pick one thing you can do every day to help. It can be as simple as educating yourself on a specific topic or showing up for a friend, family member, a stranger, or yourself.

• You don’t have to reinvent the wheel. Leverage your skills, network, and resources in ways that are accessible to you. There’s impact in things as simple as the choices you make.

Dear Daughter

Being the eldest daughter is a shared experience. The appointments only you know how to book, always being on take-out order duty, the “Are you busy right now?” texts—as if it would make a difference if you were. The moments that make you think, “Surely, this could only happen to me.”

Spoiler: It couldn’t. It didn’t. We’re all living the same life.

💌 Send me your rants, confessions, screenshots, and stories. If it screams eldest daughter energy, I want to hear it.

📩 How to submit: The submission form is preferred, but email works too!

✨ Select submissions will be featured in upcoming issues of Daughter’s House.

Dear Daughter Submissions

Report Card

🌚 Mood Check: Currently riding a productivity high, fully aware the crash is coming.

📈 Wins: Got out of my comfort zone and worked at a coffee shop. I also went to the endocrinologist and actually got my questions answered—what a wild concept.

📉 Losses: Hit "ignore limit for the day" one too many times on TikTok and Instagram. Left the house for a total of maybe three days.

⭐ Extra Credit: The Outlander binge continues—I finally made it to season 6. The commitment is impressive, even for me. I’m emotionally invested at this point.

✏️ Lesson of The Week: It turns out that setting screen time limits and sticking to them is more effective than relying on self-control (which I clearly do not have).

📋 Final Grade: B+ (points deducted for screen time violations, but bonus points for not catching the flu).

In case you missed it…

So much so that, even while having the freedom to work from coffee shops or libraries, I’d much rather stay in the comfort of my own room. Sometimes, I blame the drive or the uncertainty of whether I’ll find WiFi, but that’s not the whole truth.

It’s not just about working in public spaces where I can be seen. More than a physical safe space, I prefer the freedom and lack of judgment that comes with working in private—the ability to make mistakes, iterate, and start over without anyone to watch.

We’ve all heard the advice: Don’t share your plans with everyone. Move in silence. This belief is especially popular in the Latino community—you wouldn’t want to risk someone “echándote mal de ojo”—a lesson I learned early on from my mom. Growing up, when someone complimented me on my outfit, my first reaction was always to reply, “Thank you! I got it at Marshall’s, and it was only eight dollars!” or something along those lines. But after being corrected a few times, I understood that I didn’t have to share everything so openly—that maybe I shouldn’t share anything at all.

And that instinct to hold back didn’t stop there. It followed me into other areas of my life, specifically my personal projects and work. I convinced myself that working in private was a preference—some sort of protection. Lately, however, that “preference” feels more like a barrier. A form of stalling. A way to hide while waiting for things to be perfect.

A few weeks ago, I was talking to a friend about how I wanted to be the girl I was before the pandemic again. Going to art school was something I had looked forward to for years, and while I was extremely depressed the entire time I was there (that’s a story for another day), I was sure about one thing: my work. I was a strong decision-maker, trusted my instincts, and I felt myself grow in the process. I’d like to believe I didn’t peak in college (please don’t let that be true), but there was something there—something I lost.

At first, I thought it was the routine. I’ve been very anti-routine since the pandemic, but looking back at that time, the routine made me show up for myself every day and keep going. At one point, I thought it was the healthy competition, how seeing others create pushed me to refine my own work and try harder after a failed attempt.

But the more I sat with the thought, the more I realized that working in public was why I felt so decisive and committed to my goals.

It was not an option to keep things to myself. Every sketch, concept, and iteration had to be taped to the wall for critique. There was no waiting for things to be perfect. My work was constantly being seen, and because of that, I was forced to figure things out—to keep moving and improving.

Sure, someone could steal my idea—they did—but I could always come up with something else. Sure, my execution might not have always been the best, but it was an accomplishment in itself to have tried.

But as soon as I was out of that environment, I stopped inviting critique, conversation, and even curiosity about what I was making. The longer I kept things to myself, the harder it became to share. What once felt like control started to feel like isolation. And the more I protected my work, the more I realized I wasn’t just protecting it—I was protecting myself from embarrassment.

Last year, I wrote down what I considered then to be my most closely kept secret: I am embarrassed—embarrassed to try and fail, to be seen in the process. I’m even embarrassed by basic human things: to love, to play, to fall, to live. That admission sits on the very last pages of my journal because, as I wrote then, “when I reach this page again, I want to have felt embarrassed.”

What a human feeling, I think. So many of us never pursued careers in content creation for fear of being cringe. We celebrate the goals we’ve achieved in public but would never dare to share the ones we fell short on. We write words we never read aloud. We hesitate before texting first. We’ve even invented the “talking stage” to avoid openly admitting that we like someone—that we’d maybe, potentially, want to see where it goes. Because saying “we’re dating” sounds too serious, too exposed.

At all costs, we should always pretend we don’t care.

We deflect compliments. We sit on drafts and unfinished projects for months, waiting for the moment they feel perfect. Being seen is a risk, we think. So, we live in a constant state of avoidance, as if dodging embarrassment will ensure our success. We convince ourselves that if we hold off long enough and hide just a bit longer, the fear will disappear, and we’ll be able to step forward without flaw.

But after years of giving in to that feeling, I’ve realized discomfort is a sign of growth. A marker that we are, at the very least, in motion. A sign that we are trying, stretching, stepping beyond what is safe and certain. It’s clear to me now the real risk isn’t in being seen but in never showing up at all.

Working in public is a commitment—to progress, accountability, and the reality that things don’t have to be perfect to be worth sharing. They may never be perfect at all. But sharing forces you to step into the work, move with it, and let it take shape outside your expectations. It demands that you be present in the process rather than paralyzed by how it’s perceived. Once you’re in it, you’re in it—and only by moving forward will you overcome the feeling that you could have done more or better.

So, I’m choosing to work in public again this year. And I hope you do, too.

What I’ve Been Working On

Cakehaus

Last year, I briefly talked about bringing my mom’s new bakery, Cakehaus, to life. That process taught me so much—from understanding cottage food laws to figuring out how to make our own packaging with a Cricut to save costs. At first, our goal was to open a brick-and-mortar location in Orlando. But since then, our plans have shifted, and now we’re working toward expanding into nationwide shipping in the near future.

When our goal was to open a physical storefront, I didn’t put much effort into our social media (though I should have anyway). We knew we’d meet our customers at markets, and eventually, they’d keep coming back. With time, we’d hopefully build a community to support us in the next step. However, with nationwide shipping being our goal now, we need to have nationwide demand. So, here are a few things I’m doing to help with that in the coming months:

• Taking more product photography instead of relying on scattered shots from markets

• Starting to build an email list to stay connected with customers beyond social media

• Testing how our packaging holds up during travel

It’s still a learning process for everyone—except my mom, who is just happy to be baking—but I’m excited to see where we’ll be in a year. If you’ve ever ordered baked goods online (say from Milk Bar or Browniegod), I’d love to hear what the experience was like! Was it still good? Did it taste fresh? How was it packaged? Let me know!

The Office of Wilda Casado

I never thought I’d say this again, but… I’m rebranding.

Let’s rewind a bit—in 2023, I redesigned my website. I no longer had packaged services like I did from 2020-2023, and I was also preparing to look for a job, so I revamped it to fit those needs. I told myself I’d keep it for at least a year. I ended up keeping it for two years, which is groundbreaking for me, considering I used to change my website every six months on average (iykyk).

Once I got a full-time job, I stopped marketing my services altogether, though I still work on select projects here and there. Here’s a sneak peek of a brand refresh project I just finished last week for The Dizzy Cook:

But for a while now, most of my attention has been on my job, Cakehaus, and this newsletter. More than a studio or freelance practice, my brand has started to feel more like an office—a home for all my ideas, skills, and projects (some would call this a portfolio career). So, I figured it was time for a refresh.

With this in mind, I will also be taking on new email clients!

Honestly, I never thought I’d have a “niche,” but it turns out the Instagram coaches were right—your niche does sort of find you.

I started designing emails in 2021 when I was hired by Foodtography School (R.I.P.), and from there, things kept growing. I worked as a Digital Designer at Bumble and bumble., where my obsession with email truly took off (forever missing the OG #designqueens team). Then, I started designing for brands like Love Wellness (and actually got to meet Lo Bosworth) and Cocofloss. Now, at my current job, email is a huge part of what I do.

I’ve designed emails in Canva, Photoshop, Adobe XD, and now mostly Figma. I know the ins and outs of tools like Klaviyo, ActiveCampaign, Flodesk, ConvertKit, Mailchimp, Mailerlite—you name it. Over time, I’ve refined my process and have come to appreciate how much impact a well-designed email can have on businesses of all sizes. I mean, I do have a newsletter, after all. I probably should’ve seen this coming, considering that as a kid, I used to say, “I can’t wait to be an adult so I can check my email every morning.” (who’s gonna tell her?!)

Anyway, fun stuff is coming. I’m not hopping back on the Instagram hamster wheel, but it will likely come up in the newsletter a few times. So, if you or someone you know needs an email girl, you know where to find me!

What are you working on?

Since I’m making it a point to work in public, I’d love to hear about what you’re working on, too. Whether it’s a big project, a new job, a hobby you’ve picked back up, or something else entirely—consider this your sign to share it.

Leave me a comment below or reply to this email. Let’s chat <3

In case you missed it…

Cover photo by Lisa Says Gah, featured in the Photo Diary with Paloma Lanna, founder of Paloma Wool. Source.

This week, I had no newsletter planned. I’ve been too caught up in Outlander to focus on much else. But somewhere in the middle of season four, I needed to pull myself back to reality and remind myself that I do not, in fact, live in the 1700s.

So, I did what I always do when I need a reset: I opened Pinterest. A few minutes into scrolling, I came across an image from a book with a tutorial on making tomato balloons. It caught my attention, and I decided to plan a tomato-themed dinner party for this week’s newsletter. It was going well until I realized that tomatoes aren’t in season, and planning a dinner party around them felt untimely. The idea lost its main character, but I wasn’t ready to let go of it entirely.

I did some research, and after reading through a long list of winter produce (which surprisingly includes kiwi?!), I noticed most citrus fruits are in season—particularly oranges. Suddenly, the idea had a new direction. I scrapped the Pinterest board I had started and created a new one titled Citrus Season.

While curating the menu, I came across two recipes—one for an orange pomegranate salad with honey and a citrus-arugula salad. I loved both, but I personally prefer my salads to be more layered, so I thought of combining them into one and creating my own recipe. As I played around with this idea, the dinner party concept started to fade. Instead, I became fixated on this salad.

After shifting directions twice, I started to question whether the idea still held up. But ideas have their own agenda—growing, evolving, and sometimes even morphing into something entirely different in the process. Like I’ve said before, sometimes you just have to embrace the rabbit hole. So I choose to follow through with it anyway. I went to the store, bought the ingredients, and made the salad.

In the end, this simple salad felt more purposeful than the dinner party ever would have—and as a bonus, I got a dreamy mood board out of it. So, here’s the first recipe I’ve ever created from scratch—I hope you try it <3

Winter Citrus Salad

Ingredients

For the salad:

• Oranges*

• Pomegranate Seeds

• Arugula

• Sliced Almonds*

• Walnuts*

• Avocado*

For the dressing:

• Honey (I used Gallberry Honey, but you can also use Orange Blossom Honey)

• Dijon Mustard

• White Wine Vinegar

• Salt

• Olive Oil

P.S.: It’s a salad—measure with the heart.

Instructions

1. Wash the arugula and pat it dry. Peel and slice the oranges, remove any seeds, and set aside.

2. In a large bowl, combine the arugula, orange slices, pomegranate seeds, sliced almonds, walnuts, and avocado.

3. In a small jar, mix the honey, Dijon mustard, white wine vinegar, salt, and olive oil. Shake or whisk until well combined.

4. Pour the dressing over the salad and toss gently to coat everything evenly.

5. Serve and enjoy! 💛

Notes

• Florida Juice Oranges were the only oranges available at my nearest Publix (naturally), but if you’d prefer a more defined orange flavor, I’d go for Valencia Oranges.

• I used Gallberry honey, but Orange Blossom honey is more fun ;)

• Feta or goat cheese would’ve been a better choice instead of the avocado, or maybe even a mix of both.

• Almonds and walnuts are what I always have in my pantry, but you can swap them for whatever you have in yours—I might try it with crispy chickpeas next time!

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Happy Friday!

It’s officially been over a whole month since my return to Substack—not that it’s monumental for anyone but me. Honestly, so much has changed since I first started writing here. Notes and subscriber chats didn’t exist then; now, they feel essential to the platform. Some people strongly oppose these additions, but I’m choosing to welcome them with curiosity. Anyway, we’re not here to chat about Substack’s new features.

Since returning after a nearly year-long hiatus, I’ve mainly focused on essays and long-form pieces. I love writing those, but truthfully, I don’t always have an essay in me. Over the past year, one of my biggest personal shifts has been learning not to take everything so deeply—sometimes, I don’t have the time for big thoughts, as you might have gathered from my Year In Romance issue a few weeks ago.

That said, I’ve been craving a bit more freedom to explore. After all, I want this newsletter to feel like a literal house—with many areas or rooms. Some spaces for reflection, others for inspiration, and others for pure enjoyment. I want to write what feels most authentic to me at the time (read: I don’t always want to write an essay), and I want this to be a place where you can find more than just my *very* subjective thoughts. Hopefully, you’ll find something you can use or draw inspiration from for your own life.

So, I’m introducing a new column to the newsletter:

Think of Supper Club as a group of women—maybe in their 40s or 50s, though that’s not a requirement—who gather every week at a different house to decompress after a long week at work. Sometimes they play games (I hear Bingo is popular), sometimes they cook, sometimes they watch a movie or a show, sometimes they discuss books or a topic that came up in conversation earlier in the week, sometimes they craft, and other times, they simply chat.

Though we meet at the same house every week (welcome, friend!), and I think it’s safe to say most of us are not in our 40s or 50s (though if you are, that’s cool, too!), I want Supper Club to have that same energy. I want it to be a column where every week brings something slightly different, but you can always count on it being your favorite plan for the week. With that, let’s dive into our first Supper Club gathering.

This post contains affiliate links, meaning I earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Rest assured, I only share items I genuinely believe are worth your time.

This Week’s Grocery List

Songs that scratch my head just right—in no particular order.

I’m not quite sure how to explain this feeling, but some songs just hit the right notes, making them feel almost physical. It’s almost as if the music were a person—sitting behind you and quietly soothing you. If you’re always after this feeling, too, here are my top picks:

I compiled all these songs into a playlist called head scratchers, which you can listen to here. I focused less on making it cohesive and more on including as many songs that captured this feeling as possible. I have so many more, too, so if you’d like a part two, let me know!

A Love Letter to Red & Blue

I’ve always wanted red to be my favorite color, and while it isn’t, I find myself drawn to it all the time—especially lately, in combination with blue. For the longest time, my perception of this color combo was strictly tied to patriotism (hello, 4th of July, and the 23 flags that use these colors, including the Dominican flag). That changed a few weeks ago when I stumbled upon the Maria de la Orden Saint Barth Stripes Dress in Blue. It made me realize how playful this combination can be when done right—like the grown-up version of blue and pink or pink and yellow (though those also deserve their moment).

I’ve searched high and low for this dress with no luck. But since then, I’ve built a collection of red and blue finds—from shoes and clothing to home goods and retail spaces. Instead of completely overhauling my bedding or wallpapering my entire room to match this newfound obsession, I’ve decided to channel it more intentionally (for now) by sharing some of my favorite discoveries with you.

(1) If I had a vacation home, the guest room would look like this. Custom headboard by The Beautiful Bed Company. (2) Vintage Martini sign at La Rosa Vermutería in Mallorca, Spain. (3) The Elder Statesman Blue Speed Check Pillow (on final sale right now!). (4) Rediscover graphics from Fiorucci’s archival 1984 Panini collaboration. (5) Shower design featuring Zellige tiles by Studio Faeger, London. Photo by Ellen Christina Hancock. (6) Bode Bold Striped Cardigan: Inspired by a vintage sweater from the 1940s–1950s. (7) Gift wrapping by Cyd Converse of The Sweetest Occasion, December 2009. (8) Vintage Dolce Gabbana gown. (9) Paul’s Daughter in Luna Park, Coney Island. (10) Giuseppe Zanotti heels. (11) Sage and Clare Ballico Nudie Bath Mat in Paprika. (12) The jeans of my childhood. Vintage 80s Deadstock Hush Puppies Jeans. (13) Folk Flower wallpaper by Tess Newall. (14) Jeffrey Campbell Shortcake Gingham Kitten Heel. (15) Evelina Kroon Berry Rain Wool Rug. (16) Loubi’s on the Beach at The Selfridges Corner Shop. Summer 2022. (17) 'All Lobsters Go to Heaven' Cabana by Tombolo Company. (18) Vintage 1940s Los Angeles felt pennant by Hortie Van MFG Co. (Pasadena, CA), featuring a sewn photo of Union Station.

House Favorites

I’m currently working through all my beauty, skincare, and haircare products while prioritizing making more intentional purchases—especially in fashion. Along the way, I’ve found a few new staples and gained a new appreciation for things I already own that I truly love. Here are a few:

• Merit Beauty. I haven’t tried all their products, but the ones I own—The Perfecting Complexion Stick, Bronze Balm, and Brush No. 1—are staples in my everyday routine. If I were to try something next, it’d be their Solo Shadows, but I’m holding off until I hit pan on my old palettes.

• Abercrombie & Fitch Jeans. After six months without owning a pair of jeans, I gave denim one last shot. I ordered two styles (Curve Love Low Rise Baggy Jean & Curve Love Mid Rise 90s Straight Jean) in four different washes, and to my surprise, they all fit—now I have a whole new jeans collection.

• Sam Edelman Flats. Flats are back in my rotation thanks to a silver pair of Sam Edelman flats I picked up on sale at Nordstrom Rack. They’re comfortable and elevate every outfit. I love wearing them with jeans and linen pants!

• Too Faced Lip Injection. I bought this at Marshall’s in 2016, and though it’s definitely expired, it’s still my go-to lip product for most outings. It has a tingly feeling that might be the product working—or the fact that it’s expired—but regardless, I’m keeping it forever. Don’t be like me; get a non-expired one at Sephora.

Diary of a Serial Hobbyist

Last year, I came across a ceramic domino set on Pinterest and immediately decided to make one for my dad—the biggest domino fan I know—using air-dry clay. It’s been years since I’ve worked with air-dry clay, though, and it only took one piece for me to realize how out of practice I was. Looking back (and I mean way back, considering I started this in September), I probably should have tackled a smaller project first. But here we are, and I’m committed to seeing it through.

About half the pieces are ready to be sanded, but I still need to make the rest, plus the case. Then, I have to prime and paint every piece. My goal is to finish it by the end of February, so about 90% of the reason I’m sharing here is to hold myself accountable.

If you’re considering trying air-dry clay, I recommend checking out Wendy Stone from Klay Ceramics. She has many tutorials for beginners, including a fun playlist titled “The Pinterest Series.” Learn from my mistakes and start with a small project!

I’m thinking about trying needlepoint once I’m done, but I haven’t fully decided. If you know how to needlepoint, I’d love your advice and suggestions! And if you’re a hobby hoarder like me, let me know in the comments what hobbies I should try this year.

DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS

I can’t go without discussing Bad Bunny’s latest release, DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS. Admittedly, there’s a huge probability I would’ve loved this album regardless—it’s Bad Bunny, after all. But still, this album is by far his best work. I promise I’m not biased—Rolling Stone has already given it a 5-star review:

I’ve seen people call this album a love letter to Puerto Rico, but I think everything Bad Bunny creates is a love letter to Puerto Rico and its sisters, Cuba and the Dominican Republic. More than that, this album feels like heartbreak—over his country, its people, and its culture. Living in the Caribbean, where modern colonization is rampant, there’s always an undercurrent of fear that, one day, you’ll have no choice but to leave. For many, that day has already come, which Bad Bunny captures in the song “LO QUE LE PASÓ A HAWAii” with lines like, “No quería irse pa' Orlando, pero el corrupto lo echó” (“He didn't want to go to Orlando, but the corrupt ones pushed him out”).

Many Americans wonder why Latinos immigrate to the U.S., claiming the quality of life in our countries is much better. And sure, that might be true—from the perspective of an American earning U.S. dollars, reaping the benefits of our land and culture, and knowing they can leave anytime (If you’d like more context on this, I wrote about it here: ‘Is it ethical to live the digital nomad lifestyle?’). Bad Bunny calls out this privilege directly in “TURiSTA.”

In my opinion, the best song on the album is “LA MuDANZA.” In a recent interview, Bad Bunny shared that his goal with this album was to bring generations together, and I believe that was achieved with this song alone. The first time I played it, I was in the car with my parents, and my dad immediately said, “E’ta se va a pegar.” (“This one will go viral.”) The song opens with Bad Bunny recounting how his parents, Lisy and Tito, met—when Tito accompanied his father to work to earn some extra cash. By the end, Bad Bunny declares that he’s not going anywhere—Puerto Rico is his home, where his grandfather was born. The whole song screams, “We’re here, and we’re proud,” no matter how small they try to make Puerto Rico seem.

On a more personal note, this album highlights the importance of capturing and sharing our culture—not just our pain. To be silent is to surrender, and to be loud in our pain is to hand them power. Before opening my design studio in 2020, I had already started pulling back from Instagram—a conscious choice in an effort to be “more present.” But in doing so, I stopped taking pictures altogether, a habit that had become so tied to social media. But this album reminded me that photos existed long before social media—to document our lives and create something for future generations to look back on. Our sazón—our essence—is the one thing they can never take away from us, and capturing that feels more important than ever because it’s through these memories that our stories survive. So now, I’m making a conscious choice to capture more of my life instead—and I guess I have Bad Bunny to thank for that.

If you’d like to dive deeper into this album, I recommend reading this article: Unpacking Bad Bunny's personal and political 'DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS’.

That’s all for this week, friends.

Love from the house,
Wilda xx

“Empathy is not a limited resource.”

I am so heartbroken about everything happening in Los Angeles right now. Natural disasters are everywhere, coming faster and stronger every time, impacting our communities beyond repair. If you don’t know where to start helping, Rachel Davies from Personal Space has compiled a master list of GoFundMe links. Additionally, here are specific lists to support Latine families, Black families, and artists affected by the disaster. And, of course, consider donating to the LAFD.

As I’ve mentioned before, if you’ve visited any impacted areas, check in on the small businesses you supported during your trip. They’ve likely shared the best ways to help them through this time. And if, like me, you’re so removed from the West Coast and can’t fully grasp the scale and destruction caused by these fires, remember that educating yourself is also an act of support.

Housekeeping

I used to love sending my newsletters on Tuesdays, but since the rebrand, I’ve been sending them on Fridays. I can’t decide which feels better, so if you’d kindly let me know below which day you prefer, I would love you (even more) forever.

In case you missed it…

Cover Photo by Elinor Cahn, Bingo Player, Saint Casimir's Church Hall, 1979. Source.

The answer is yes.

And yet, I can never shake this unwillingness to stay confined to one box.

When I decided to major in design, it wasn’t because I wanted to specialize in logos or websites. It was because I didn’t want to make just one thing. I wanted to make everything (in true Leo fashion)—and I believed that if I could understand what makes good design, I could make that happen.

This sentiment was present in my life even before it became clear to me. At age 9, I learned Premiere Pro. By age 13, I thought Photoshop was more my thing—until I discovered Illustrator at age 15. At age 16, I submitted my photography work to Local Wolves magazine. At age 18, I discovered Upwork and ended up working with Knoll (I’m still fangirling).

At age 19, just before the pandemic hit, I joined a Geodesic Help Group on Google because I entered a competition to build an installation for an electronic music festival. That was how I learned about COVID-19:

I’ve designed furniture with my dad, attempted to become a YouTuber (twice), and even learned how to embroider and crochet during the pandemic because I was bored.

I’ve dipped my hands into everything I can, and nothing has ever been enough to make me stick with it longer than my curiosity calls for. My life is essentially the portfolio of a first-year art school student—messy, diverse, and always in progress.

Despite how obvious it is to me now, I would have never considered research the main thread through it all, until I came across this TikTok. The video highlights how research can be a hobby—collecting and organizing ideas without expecting an output. You can save an article or a video without knowing its purpose. It doesn’t need one. You can dive into a random topic just because it piqued your interest. And yet, you don’t have to do anything with that information. It doesn’t need to transform your life or turn into a big project. It can just exist in the deepest corners of your brain. The “point of it” will often reveal itself later—when ideas collide and become something bigger. And sometimes, all that research will amount to nothing but a random conversation with a friend or a stranger.

The goal isn’t just to find answers but to continue asking questions. For instance, a few months ago, I came across Alexandra Fasulo, an “ecopreneur” building a pollinator farm in Upstate New York. The first video I saw was about the Amish building her barn, and I was immediately drawn in. I’ve always been curious about the Amish culture, have long been obsessed with Upstate New York, and constantly daydream about building a farm, so her story hit all the right notes for me.

As I followed her journey, she frequently mentioned the USDA as a resource for buying land. I had never heard of these programs before, so I decided to dig deeper. I learned about land loans, conservation funding, and grants for beginner farmers. Eventually, I even contacted a farm service agency in Upstate New York. I booked a call with one of their directors to chat about funding options for beginner farmers.

To no one’s surprise, I lacked the experience and structured plan needed to pursue funding. Still, I walked away with a list of resources I didn’t know existed and lots of tips on gaining industry experience.

If you’d like to follow Alexandra’s journey, she shares it all in her Substack newsletter, House of Green.

Another day, I found myself obsessing over mid-century modern house numbers, which led me to create a digital print collection and put it up for sale on Etsy. I’ve always been curious about starting an Etsy shop, and now, despite not having made a single sale, I can say I’ve done it. Funny enough, this obsession started when I watched a video on Open Spaces about Gene Leedy’s house and office in Winter Haven, Florida. Following that video, I was absorbed by the mid-century modern movement’s influence on many Florida towns and homes—a contrast to how Florida is often dismissed in architectural conversations.

Then there are the smaller, seemingly unrelated rabbit holes: discovering needlepoint, reading about why my favorite orange juice brand, Florida’s Natural, now sources oranges from places like Mexico and Brazil instead of solely from Florida (Spoiler: It’s because of climate change.), or stumbling across Tanya Luhrmann’s Aims of Education address from 2003 at the University of Chicago—all because I happened to see an excerpt on Pinterest.

Sometimes, the research spans years. Since discovering Tristan da Cunha some time ago, the world's most remote inhabited island, I’ve been fascinated by it, and I like to check in at least once a year, typically through Kelly, to see what’s changed (or hasn’t changed) since my last dive into their world.

None of these explorations are connected, and that’s the beauty of it. Each topic feels like its own adventure, and there’s no “right” way to do it. I’ve found that research can happen anywhere and looks different depending on the subject. However, over time, I’ve gathered a few trusted tools to help me collect and organize my findings:

• Reddit Threads

  • Reddit is like the internet’s library for niche knowledge. There’s a thread for almost every topic you can think of. People share their expertise, personal experiences, and resources you’d never stumble upon through a regular Google search. At this point, I don’t even dare to buy anything without checking Reddit first—it’s my go-to source for unfiltered advice.

• Pinterest (Sue me!)

  • Pinterest will always have a special place in my heart. I’ve tried platforms like Are.na and even recently joined Arca, but my Pinterest algorithm is so perfectly fine-tuned that I can’t imagine leaving it behind. There will never be anything quite like falling down a Pinterest rabbit hole.

• Tab Groups

  • As someone who always has a million tabs open, tab groups are a lifesaver. Whenever I can no longer find the tab I’m looking for (which happens very frequently), I group everything into topics and come back to it when I’m ready.

• Google Lens

  • On a similar note, I swear by Google Lens. The best way to use it is through the phone app, though you can also reverse-search images on desktop—it can be slightly less effective at times. Rest assured, if every other research method has failed you, this one won’t.

• Mymind

  • I’ve mentioned Mymind in my newsletter before, and if you’re wondering, it’s still the best $5 I spend every month. Mymind is like a personal library for everything I come across. Most things end up here when I don’t have the brain power to organize them, so I let AI handle it for me. I save so many resources and references here that it’s become like my private Pinterest.

• My trusty Notes app

  • Listen, I love Notion as much as the next person, but as hard as I’ve tried, I could never fully let go of my Notes app. It’s where most of my ideas start and take shape (I’m literally writing this on my Notes app right now). Whenever I come across an interesting fact, phrase, or idea, I immediately open the app and write it down.
    
    My Notes app is full of half-formed thoughts and random links, including an idea titled “Office Closed”—just those two words. I’ve since forgotten what those two words meant, but I’m sure it will come back to me eventually.

• Books

  • This one is reserved for special topics. As I like to tell my friends, I prefer reading for joy or pain. But sometimes, having all the information I need compiled in a book—rather than scattered across digital tools—is far more helpful. I’ve purchased books on PCOS, freelancing, and flower arranging, and I still reach for them whenever I have a question instead of immediately going online.

Embracing research as a leisure activity is a refreshing break from the need to be productive or to “use” what you learn. Maybe there’s a question you’ve always wondered about—type it into Google and see where it takes you. The goal is to learn because you can (and what a privilege that is), gathering little bits of knowledge that make your world feel bigger and your conversations more interesting.

Let yourself wonder about things. Follow a thought. Become someone else for a day.

Sometimes, I wonder if I chose design as a career because I wanted to design or because I wanted a career where “rabbit holes” are part of the job.

I’d love to hear from you! What’s the most odd rabbit hole you’ve fallen into recently?

With love,
Wilda

For someone like me—decidedly not overly goal-oriented—January feels impossibly long, like it’s been given extra days to make you question every decision you’ve ever made. It drags you through the grind of winter, then throws you into the shortest month of the year, expecting you to be richer and hotter already.

Maybe it is me. Maybe I’m not trying hard enough, not determined enough. But I’m a Leo, so obviously, it’s not me. Therefore, I’m blaming my least favorite month. So, if you’re feeling the same way, here’s my guide to surviving January:

Plan something fun. It’s not too late, I promise. I’m convinced my best plan for January hasn’t even been brought up in conversation yet. Give yourself something to look forward to—an event, a trip, a day off, or even a fancy dinner. Turning January into a countdown toward something tangible makes it feel shorter and less intimidating. Focus on that one plan, not that we have twelve new months ahead.

Keep watching holiday movies. This is my ultimate life hack. I will continue watching holiday movies well into February. It’s still cold and dark, and the days are still short, but we’re somehow expected to leave all the coziness and comfort behind in favor of our goals. I object. I mean, who even had time to watch holiday movies during the actual holiday season? My annual rewatch of The Holiday and Love Actually is still pending. And no, I can’t pick a favorite.

Keep baking. On that same note, who decided baking season ends in December? Pick a new recipe you’ve always wanted to try now that you don’t have to impress all your friends and family. Or bake your favorite recipes, just for yourself this time. The general vibe here is to keep the holiday vibes going if you can’t tell. As for me, I’m working on perfecting cinnamon rolls. My favorite recipe as of right now is this one by Tastes of Lizy T. I’m making a few adjustments, though, so I might share it soon!

Spend time outdoors. I’ve been staying inside as much as possible lately, but whenever I feel stuck, I remind myself to step outside. There’s something about January that feels especially quiet—for the first time since October, there’s nothing to celebrate. Most houses and businesses have packed away their decorations, leaving the streets bare and eerily calm. So, go for a walk and get some fresh air while you try to spot the odd house that refuses to take its decorations down. You might realize things aren’t moving quite as fast as they seem. And, please, I beg you, do not count your steps.

Limit social media. This one’s basic but effective. Personally, I can’t scroll through everyone’s “new year, new me” posts, resolutions, and big plans without feeling a pang of self-doubt. It’s not that I’m not happy for them—it’s more that I start pitying myself for not being where they are or dreaming as big as they are. I’d rather step back from active platforms like Instagram and TikTok to avoid that spiral and switch to slower ones like Pinterest. You can still romanticize the new year in private, without the noise or pressure of what everyone else is doing and what that means for you.

Reset your space. This may be the most January one of them all. Some people like to do this in December. I’m not one of those people. January just feels like a better time—there’s no rushing to get it done before the new year among all the festivities, and it still aligns with the whole fresh-start energy we have going on. Take some time to reevaluate what you own after the holidays. Declutter your closet, reorganize your drawers, or finally check cleaning that hard-to-reach corner you’ve been avoiding off your to-do list. Consider donating the things you no longer need. Let go of what no longer serves you and make room for the new year.

Set one small goal. If you are overwhelmed by the pressure of hitting the ground running on all your goals for this year, start small instead. Pick one thing to focus on this month—something to pick up momentum. Want to make more money? Challenge yourself to make an extra $500. Want to improve your health? Start taking daily vitamins or aim to drink more water. Want to start a new hobby? Pick a small project you can complete by the end of the month. Forget about the rest of your goals for a little. Plant a seed; the garden will come later.

Wear a dress. It feels like dress season is over, and we’re expected to stick to activewear or business casual now. Again, I object. It’s time to let go of the idea that dresses are reserved for special occasions. Wear the dress—to the grocery store, your favorite coffee shop, the movies, or a quick errand. Wear it to the DMV if you must. And if dresses don’t make you feel good, then wear whatever does—your favorite outfit, your coziest sweater, or that one piece you’ve been saving for “someday.”

If all else fails, treat yourself. January is often framed as a month of restraint—cutting back and setting limits in virtually every aspect of our lives. But I live for a treat. Whether it’s brunch at your favorite spot, fresh flowers, a new cozy game, that skirt you’ve been eyeing for a while now, or even booking that summer trip ahead of time (which is not only a treat but also a smart financial decision), these are the things we work so hard for in the first place.

Here’s to making it through January.

With love from the house,
Wilda xx

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Every year, I like to close things out with some recap—usually in the form of a studio report—a summary of milestones and the work that defined my year. But this year, there was simply no studio. Aside from a couple of freelance projects, this year was a more personal one—slower yet still riddled with the same amount of anxiety.

Honestly, I wasn’t even going to acknowledge the new year. I was planning on carrying on with my schedule as one would in the middle of June. I kept asking myself, what’s there to say? There weren’t any big projects or financial milestones to highlight. Instead, there were quiet mornings (working for a company in Mountain Standard Time is a major life hack), new hobbies, and a worrying amount of spiraling. But as the end of the year got closer, I thought, why not recap 2024 through the one thing I stayed consistent with: romance books.

This year, I read 52 of them. It wasn’t a goal I wrote down or made known—it just kind of happened. Before this, I was lucky if I finished one or two books a year, and even then, they were usually nonfiction. For the four years I was running my studio full-time, it felt like I didn’t have the time to indulge in “silly” things. With that chapter behind me, I found my way back to the comfort I found in reading when I was 16.

I guess this is a good time to mention: if you’re expecting this recap to feature literary masterpieces, this might not be the article for you. This year, the only thing I could handle was the predictability of a fluffy romance story, and honestly, as guilty and “not cool enough” as that might make me feel, it was exactly what I needed. So, while I may not have a list of the most obscure “thought daughter” reads to add to your TBR or founder accomplishments to recap, I do have a year told in stories outside of my own. And, hopefully, that feels as refreshing for you as it does for me.

January

My first picks of the year were sports romances (thanks, TikTok). Looking back, I’m not sure what possessed me to pick up Ice Breaker by Hannah Grace as my first read of the year. It gave me major whiplash and was definitely not the smoothest reentry into the world of reading. Regardless, it was just intriguing enough to keep me going.

These books were forgettable—so much so that I cannot even remember why I rated them the way I did—but they did open a new world for me. For example, I now enjoy watching hockey and keeping up with our local team, whose existence I was unaware of prior to reading these books.

February

By February, I thought it was time to expand my plots a bit, and despite my initial reluctance, I picked up Beach Read by Emily Henry. Long story short: no Emily Henry slander will be tolerated here. 52 books in, I am confident no one writes contemporary romance like Emily Henry. Book Lovers feels like it was specifically written for eldest daughters. Last week, I watched a Jack Edwards YouTube video where he mentioned always keeping one Emily Henry book in his TBR so he could experience one for the first time if he ever needed an Emily Henry fix—not doing the same might be my only regret so far.

However, the book that dragged me through the dirt this month was A Love Letter to Whiskey by Kandi Steiner. I haven’t even dared to unpack my thoughts on it yet because, honestly, where do you even begin with something that emotionally jarring? I’m scared (for myself).

March

March marked the beginning of my Elle Kennedy era. These books were repetitive, predictable, and sometimes downright frustrating but also strangely comforting. Once you’re one book in, you’re dragged into this world, and I couldn’t seem to let go of it. That said, I probably should’ve because this was the beginning of the end of my hockey romance binge.

However, Ashley Poston’s The Seven Year Slip was the highlight of my month (and year). I’m genuinely scared to read another Ashley Poston book because I fear that it won’t live up to this one. This story unexpectedly reminded me of The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo—the kind of book that pulls you in so deeply that you’re almost convinced the characters exist in the real world. By the time I finished, I was so attached I hoped to run into them someday. More than anything, this book left me reflecting on how time, while precarious, can also be forgiving.

April

Enter: the end of my hockey romance binge. I pushed through The Dare to get to The Graham Effect, the first book in Elle Kennedy’s new Campus Diaries series. This one tells the story of Gigi, Hannah and Garret’s daughter from The Deal, the first book in the Off-Campus series. It was good enough and gave me the closure to finally move on.

A second book in the series has since been published, but I cannot bring myself to read about another hockey player falling in love. It was quite an odd three-month affair. To the Orlando Solar Bears: I still love you, even though you keep losing to the Jacksonville Icemen.

May

I didn’t pick up a single book this month. I was 1) prepping for my second move in less than two years and 2) using all of my free time—which was not much—to work on getting Cakehaus ready for our first market. On top of that, my brother graduated high school, and I dedicated an entire week to celebrating him.

Sometimes, life feels just as full as the books. May was that kind of month and I let myself fully enjoy it.

June

In June, I was itching to pick up a book again. Much of my reading this year felt like “catching up” on all the books everyone else had already read, which led me to Abby Jimenez. Part of Your World didn’t stand out to me—though I would still recommend reading it—but Yours Truly felt like a cry for help from inside the house.

Jacob’s awkward interactions with Briana at the beginning of the book were almost too familiar. The other day, I tried flirting with a guy at the farmers market by buying honey. Was it actually flirting? I don’t know. We talked about the weather, and I bought a gallon of his favorite honey. It felt like my real-life version of Yours Truly—a little embarrassing, unintentionally funny, but like, hopefully cute?

July

July was so good to me. After finishing Yours Truly, I was a little worried Just For The Summer wouldn’t hit quite the same, but to my surprise, it did. I’m not usually a fan of fake dating tropes, but this one had a more interesting setup that made it work. Sure, it all felt a bit too convenient at times, but it is a romance book, after all, isn’t it?

At this point, I was on a roll, and the bar was officially set high. It felt like the only book that could live up to the task was Emily Henry’s newest release, Funny Story. And while it wasn’t my favorite of hers, it did live up to my expectations for an Emily Henry book.

August

For some reason, shows and movies tend to become my preferred entertainment during the summer. After reading People We Meet On Vacation and realizing I only had one Emily Henry book left to read, I shifted gears and watched the Red, White, and Royal Blue film adaptation. Afterward, I decided to pick up the book because I felt like something was missing.

I felt like both the book and the movie were okay—the story could’ve gone so much deeper but stayed mostly surface-level. I was hoping the book would fill some of those gaps for me, but it still left me with the sense that it was a missed opportunity for something more.

September

In September, I came across Elsie Silver—specifically her newest series, Rose Hill. Honestly, I picked up Wild Love mainly because the cover stood out to me among the sea of illustrated ones (sorry—I’m a designer first, after all!). But once I started, I knew I’d found a new affair and immediately started reading Wild Eyes. One plot that will get me every single time is small-town romance. It’s me, after all, who has watched every single season of Virgin River and even Googled the town it’s based on so I can visit someday (and likely be disappointed).

It was also this month that Emily Henry announced her next book's title and release date, which meant I was finally safe to read Happy Place. As a certified nostalgic girl, I’m so, so glad I saved this one for last. It felt like the story of something I almost had but let go of at some point. It made me miss it, but also not. Mostly, it made me reflect on how things change—how we change—and all the choices between holding on and letting go.

October

Well, I didn’t realize how fitting this would be, but for October, I decided to try my hand at fantasy with Holly Black’s The Folk of the Air series. The romance was a subplot at best, and I found myself grasping at anything I could while constantly flipping back to the map every two paragraphs to fully immerse myself in this world. But once I got into it, I was surrounded by it and started to understand the allure of the fantasy genre. I’m pretty sure I read the last two books in two days. It was all worth it because, as promised by the reviews begging me to stick with it, The Queen of Nothing was the best of them all.

And then, I came back to Elsie Silver. Wildly unprepared, I should say.

November

Like I said before, small-town romance will get me every single time. But I was not expecting to get as completely sucked into this world as I did—six books, all by the same author. With the time I spend daydreaming about starting a farm, I should’ve known the cowboys would get to me.

Horses, bulls, and cows became my entire personality for this month. It didn’t help I had staring contests with my neighbor’s cows almost every day. Beyond the romance, these books spoke to the part of me who hopes to live in a farmhouse with an absurd acreage and a clear view of the mountains someday. And, if you read past all of the smut (which was described as mild by many but shocked me either way), these stories were about love beyond a romantic partner. They were about a sense of belonging—love for a place, a community, and a way of life.

December

By December, I was trying to hold on to the cowboy world by any means. It started strong but quickly fizzled out, leaving me to wait for Elsie Silver’s next release in the Rose Hill series. I’m not quite ready to part ways with small-town romance yet.

Honestly, I had such a hard time picking my next book because I didn’t want to be disappointed. But I was disappointed anyway after reading The Pumpkin Spice Cafe. I had bought the book without reading too much into it earlier in the fall, expecting it to be a cozy, good-enough read. Spoiler: It wasn’t. I hated every minute of it, and I hated my inability to DNF a book even more.

I’m still reading It Happened One Summer, so maybe this whole issue was clickbait (forgive me?), but it almost felt like I couldn’t finish it without acknowledging what it meant to me to get to this point. I picked this one up from my long “playing catch up” list, and at a little over halfway through, I’d give it a solid three stars. I could, however, go the rest of my life without seeing the phrase “recharging station” used to describe a hug, so we’ll see how it plays out. I would’ve loved to have ended the year with a bang, but that’s mostly on me anyway.

If this year has taught me anything, it’s that not everything has to be profound or ambitious. God forbid we do something for pure enjoyment. So, I’m closing the year with a list of little wins I wouldn’t have given the time of day to before:

1. Read the most fiction books I’ve finished since I was 16

2. Decreased my screen time—it was time I took a break from short-form content

3. I used something I bought to its full capacity (my Kindle <3)

4. Expanded my vocabulary

5. Learned to properly unwind after work—a luxury I’d lost

All of this was a reminder of what it feels like to do things just for yourself—that not only the flashy achievements are worth celebrating. There’s so much to learn from the unassuming moments in life, even when the “moment” in question covers the span of an entire year. But maybe that’s the point.

It brought to mind a letter I came across on Pinterest from Cheryl Strayed’s Tiny Beautiful Things:

"Don’t lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don’t have a career. You have a life. Keep the faith. Do the work. The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming."

Here’s to another year of reading—hopefully more than romance this time around.

With love from the house,
Wilda xx

Readers, how do you rank your books? I’m so stingy with 5 stars that I realize my ratings might be all over the place. I tried to make a bit more sense of it below:

★ Terrible—might as well have DNF’ed
★★ Readable, but waiting for you to be great
★★★ Consider me entertained
★★★★ Good enough, might even be great
★★★★★ Hooked, forever changed, will read again eventually

In case you missed it…

This year was our second time hosting, and I relied more on Amazon than I’d like to admit to pull it all together. With just over a week’s notice and a guest list of 30, I didn’t have the time—or the preparation—to plan every detail as thoroughly as I would’ve liked. Still, I’m happy with how it turned out, and I look forward to using many of the pieces I bought for years to come.

When we bought this house, I imagined it as the perfect place for hosting—a home with a sign out front reading “The W Farm” and chickens roaming freely across the yard. But now, six months later (which, in hindsight, isn’t all that long), the vision is still a work in progress. So far, we have only welcomed a few close family members and some friends. The house's exterior wasn’t particularly cared for when we moved in, so it’s needed quite a bit of TLC. The only projects we managed to get to before my family arrived were the fire pit and the swings we promised the youngest members of the family we’d have waiting for them. My dad also put up some globe string lights a few weeks prior, which, while simple, really helped bring some warmth into the otherwise bare landscape.

Given the size of our family and the limited space in our dining area, we decided to set up the table outside under the furthest line of lights, right in the middle of the fenced backyard area that used to house a goat herd. One thing I’ve learned from helping my mom with her farmers’ market setup is how pricey tablecloths can be, so I immediately knew we’d have to look for another option. I settled on a roll of kraft paper from Home Depot. I’m not sure why I thought it’d be easy to ensure the paper stayed on the table, but we had to improvise at the last minute and place hidden rocks and some wood we had stashed for the fire pit to hold it down.

The next element we added was an olive green cheesecloth table runner. I didn’t have a set vision; I just chose elements I liked and hoped they worked together. The paper wasn’t wide enough to cover the table without a seam, so the runner was primarily a practical decision. It also transformed the overall vibe of the otherwise small-town BBQ restaurant look of the kraft paper.

Possibly, my favorite addition was the bud vases. I debated between larger vases, candles, or bud vases, and I’m so glad I chose the latter. To my surprise, they are made of thick glass and arrived extremely well packaged. The morning before, I had picked up flowers from the Orlando Flower Market, a favorite spot of mine. I picked mostly pink and yellow flowers—not quite sure what I was going for, but the florist assured me they looked great. On the way out, I finally spotted amaranths in stock and couldn’t resist picking up a few of the green, tail-like flowers.

As much as I would’ve loved to, we weren’t going to serve food on ceramic dinner plates. Instead, I went with a simple white disposable set. For silverware, I felt that white or black would scream “plastic,” while gold would scream “cheap,” so I settled for silver. And to elevate it all a bit, I purchased cloth napkins—hoping they’d help offset the disposable tableware. I also picked up an olive green velvet ribbon to tie bows. Initially, I planned to use them as napkin rings, but that didn’t work out, so we placed the bows on top. This was one detail I wish I’d planned more thoughtfully. To top it all off, I grabbed some candle holders from our indoor dining table.

The final touch for the evening was a game I’d created. I’ve always felt dinner print materials like menus or place cards lack a sense of playfulness, and since we didn’t need either, I opted for something more interactive: a family crossword puzzle. It included funny memories from the year and little details everyone would know—like the names of our family dogs. I was set on these being yellow, so I printed them on Hammermill Colored Paper and cut them at home. At the last minute, my dad reminded me that most people no longer carry pens or pencils. That led to a late-night Dollar Tree run to grab a bunch, which I placed in wooden pencil holders. It was a small addition, but it tied everything together and gave everyone something fun to do.

With everything in place, I shamelessly spent the first half of dinner taking pictures and soaking it all in—our first family dinner at our new house. Hosting an event was one of my goals for the year, and while this wasn’t the event I initially had in mind, it feels even more meaningful.

With love,
Wilda

In case you missed it…

I’ve kept Tom and his songs close since I first discovered him in 2016. This song, in particular, finds me every year around this time since its release, like an old friend. Play it with me while you read (and I write).

Hello! I’m Wilda—the writer behind this newsletter. Whether you’re new here or have been around for a while, you might have noticed some changes. I’m hoping you give me the chance to explain.

In January 2024, I stopped sending weekly newsletters. At the time, life felt heavy, and the curiosity I usually rely on was gone. The words didn’t come as naturally, and I started to feel unworthy of writing a newsletter about creativity when I felt so creatively depleted myself. This feeling wasn’t foreign to me, but this time, it overstayed its welcome.

Moving to Florida had slowly but surely uprooted my life in ways I hadn’t expected. I found myself stepping into greater family responsibilities, navigating the grief of moving on, and trying to find my footing in my new 9-to-5 job. I didn’t feel like the confident, “I can make anything happen” girl I had been. Instead, it felt like the years of work I had put into becoming this ideal version of myself were all crumbling before me.

For months, I was stuck in a creative and emotional fog—a crisis of identity I couldn’t seem to shake. When we experience moments like that, it feels like the whole world is falling apart. Only when we come out on the other side do we start to see the bigger picture. More often than not, breaking apart is part of becoming whole again.

That’s how I find myself here, on the other side of that chapter. While so much about my life and identity feels up in the air, what matters most to me is clear as ever: designing a life filled with curiosity, culture, and a celebration of the everyday. This newsletter has always been a special piece of that vision—a place for reflection and growth.

And so, I’m returning with a new name: Daughter’s House.

The name is deeply personal yet universal—a reflection of who I am and who I’m becoming. As the eldest daughter of an immigrant family, the title “Daughter” is one I carry into every corner of my life. It shapes the way I create, care for others, and dream of a life that feels like my own.

This new chapter feels, in part, like the only choice my mom has ever made for me. My mom is also the eldest daughter, but she grew up in a world where family always came first, and pursuing her dreams was often last on the priority list. When she found out her firstborn would be a girl, she decided that wouldn't be my story.

One of my earliest memories of this promise is a photo of me as a baby. In it, I’m wearing a deep plum velvet dress that my mom picked out for a family photoshoot. Everyone hated it, especially my grandmother, who already disapproved of many of my mom’s choices. She insisted the dress wasn’t “appropriate” for a little girl—it strayed too far from the traditional pastel pinks she thought I should wear. Years later, I realized the dress wasn’t just an act of defiance against my grandmother. It was a silent declaration that I didn’t have to conform to someone else’s expectations, even as a baby.

Growing up, my interests were never questioned, my voice was never dismissed, and my individuality was never treated as a burden. She made space for me to explore and decide who I wanted to be, even when those decisions were unexpected.

I remember the day she asked if I wanted to take ballet classes. She had been a dancer well into her early 20s, her only escape in a house full of brothers and cousins. I think part of her hoped I’d share that same love. But when she asked, I said, “No, Mom. Ballet is for good girls.” And to that, she just said, “Okay.” Looking back, I sometimes wish she had pushed a little harder. But in that moment, she gave me something far more valuable—autonomy.

Those small moments shaped so much of who I am. My mom raised me to have choices—choices she didn’t always have. She taught me that I could be both: a daughter who loves deeply and a woman who lives unapologetically.

But Daughter’s House is more than just my story. It’s a space for those navigating the balance between honoring where we come from and discovering who we are. It’s about creativity in its truest form: seeing the world in a way only you can.

Thank you for being here, whether you’re reading for the first time or the hundredth. I hope this newsletter becomes a space that inspires you to be deliberately yourself.

I’d love to hear from you—what’s one childhood memory that has shaped how you live your life? Let’s chat!

With love,
Wilda

A common sentiment on social media, especially on TikTok, is: “Why would anyone still live in Florida?” It’s a question that, while simple at first glance, overlooks the complexity of the situation. Sure, there’s truth in the criticisms—our government has let corporate interests influence our building codes, allowing construction too close to our shorelines. Yes, many of the most at-risk properties are owned by millionaires who can easily afford to rebuild. But how can we forget about the countless small businesses that line our coastal towns or the working-class families whose livelihoods depend on living close to these waters? Not everyone here is a millionaire with a beachside mansion. Regular people like you and me have built their lives here; for many of us, the ocean has never been something to fear. It’s a part of our daily lives and has long been the source of our comfort and stability despite the geographic vulnerabilities in our area.

When people ask, “Why would anyone still live in Florida?” it’s often followed by the suggestion that everyone should pack up and move inland. But if we challenge that argument, we quickly realize it’s not as straightforward or practical as it sounds. Let's take the islands, for example. What about Puerto Rico? In 2017, it was devastated by Hurricane Maria, a Category 5 hurricane that took over 3,000 lives, leaving those who survived in a struggle to recover that continues to this day. Where exactly should the 3.2 million residents of Puerto Rico go?

Many, if not all, islands in the Caribbean face the same challenges. Most are still recovering from previous storms and have fewer resources to rebuild. Even though some are still politically tied to larger nations like the United States, France, or the UK, they are frequently left to fend for themselves when disaster strikes. Cuba deals with shortages of basic necessities even on a good day. Haiti—whose history is marked by continual exploitation and interference—is constantly fighting an uphill battle, even when not in the face of a natural disaster. Suggesting that all these people simply “move inland” is not only laughable but impractical and deeply dismissive of the challenges those living in these regions face.

Even if, in an ideal world, everyone living in these hurricane-prone areas could permanently evacuate, where would they go? The harsh truth is that no place is truly safe from the consequences of climate change. We’ve seen—I hope you’ve seen—what happened in Western North Carolina and Tennessee. These areas, far from any coastline, were considered safe havens. Yet, they have experienced devastating floods that wiped entire towns off the map. People who thought they were out of harm’s way now find themselves without power, food, or water and living under the constant threat of landslides. These disasters weren’t predicted by any weather model or radar—just like the next ones won’t be.

We live in a world where extreme weather events will no longer be uncommon. Whether hurricanes, earthquakes, tornadoes, wildfires, or droughts, no one is immune to the impacts of a rapidly changing climate. 

Some may then ask, “Why didn’t you just evacuate if you knew it was coming?”. We shouldn’t have to remind you evacuating isn’t as simple as packing up and heading out on a road trip, and we can all agree even that comes with proper planning. If you know anything about Florida, you know that when an evacuation is called, there’s only one direction to go: north. Our highways and interstates become gridlocked, moving slowly or maybe not moving at all, and often, there’s no gas left to make it out of there. Even 130 miles inland, where I live, gas stations are struggling to keep up. Again, it's not just about jumping in the car—many people have large families, pets, or elderly relatives. Hotels and Airbnbs are full of families who have already been displaced and are still struggling to find permanent housing after Hurricane Helene. People’s vehicles have been damaged or destroyed; the same can be said for rental cars. Evacuating is expensive, logistically difficult, and often dehumanizing. Imagine leaving behind everything you’ve ever worked for, knowing it may not be there when you return.

For those of us not in evacuation zones, staying in our homes is the best option. Yes, it’s uncomfortable when the power goes out, clean water becomes scarce, and our everyday routines are disrupted. Still, the responsible thing to do is prepare, hunker down, and hope to survive—clearing the way to welcome those in evacuation zones, should they choose to evacuate, because they also deserve the hope of survival.

Hurricanes and other natural disasters will continue to become more frequent and intense. As we navigate the consequences of our actions, we need to stop pointing fingers at those who stay in vulnerable areas and start asking how we, as a society, can better support them. How can we improve infrastructure to withstand storms? How can we ensure that evacuations are feasible for everyone, not just those with the means to leave? How can we address the root causes of these disasters, from the unchecked development of coastal areas to the more significant issue of global warming?

So, the next time you wonder why anyone would still live in Florida or any other place threatened by natural disasters, consider the bigger picture. People live here because it’s home—it’s always been. And leaving home behind, no matter the threat, is never as easy as it sounds.

If you're able and willing to support hurricane relief efforts, here’s a list of resources to look into:

Appalachian Hurricane Relief Efforts

Reach St. Pete Hurricane Relief Donations

Cajun Navy Hurricane Helene / Milton Relief Amazon Wishlist

Hurricane Helene Airlift Relief WNC Resources Amazon Wishlist

Mercy Chefs Hurricane Helene Response

World Central Kitchen

If you’ve ever personally visited any of the affected areas, check on the small businesses you supported while you were there. It’s likely they’ve shared ways you can help on social media as well. And even if you haven’t, a quick search can connect you with communities that could really use your support.

Lots of love from Florida,
Wilda xx

Thanks for reading!

Read more about Between The B&W here.

If you like this newsletter, please consider sharing it with others.

Here is every Between The B&W newsletter to date.

Follow along on Instagram or visit the website.

As I mentioned in a previous newsletter, I moved earlier this summer. Some of our family and friends thought it was a rushed decision, and in a way, it was. One day, we were preparing to host a graduation party for my younger brother and cousin, and the next, we were staging our home to put it on the market.

We had always talked about moving, but it was more of a distant idea—something we might do eventually, not something we would do less than two years after our last move. When we moved to Florida, we bought our house almost sight unseen. I only came down on closing day to do the final walkthrough, which rarely changes anyone's mind, and signed the paperwork a few hours later. But once we settled in and got to know the area, we realized we wanted more outdoor space and definitely not a home in an HOA.

I never take anything casually, so I started browsing Zillow every day. Some weekends, I would convince my entire family to check out open houses and explore new neighborhoods. When they didn’t match my energy, I’d take long drives to see the houses I’d found on Zillow in person. Then, one day, I found the house we live in now, just five minutes from our old place, on a street we thought we could never afford, so I called our realtor to schedule a showing that same day.

It turns out the previous owner was going through a divorce and needed to sell quickly, which explained why it was in our budget. Unfortunately, they never even got to live in the house. They bought it in 2022 from a family who had owned it since 1996 and spent two years renovating it. He had continued with the renovation plans hoping to work things out, but she eventually moved up north, and he listed it for sale. During our final walkthrough, we found her boots in the shed on top of some paint buckets he left behind.

It still feels surreal how everything fell into place. We made an offer below the asking price, contingent on selling our home—before it was even listed—and they accepted?! That’s so unheard of that even our realtor was shocked.

At that point, I thought my “chronically browsing Zillow” days were over. Even my mom was counting on it, hoping I’d stop using trips to the farmer’s market as an excuse to get her to check out more houses with me—but that didn’t happen. Zillow is still my most visited website, so I figured it was time to do something about it.

Welcome to the first issue of “Chronically Browsing Zillow,” where I’ll share my favorite Zillow finds from across the country. This week, I explored six states, some of them unexpected, and even scored some great finds for under one million dollars.

The Dreamiest Entryway in Jackson, Mississippi

I’ve never been to Mississippi, so I wasn’t sure what to expect while browsing homes there. I was pleasantly surprised when I stumbled upon this mid-century modern classic built in 1964. The highlight of this home is the entryway leading into the great room. I love it when homes have a wall in front of the doorway for added privacy (especially when it doubles as storage), and the trees surrounding this home only add to the charm.

Tucked in Newport, Maine

It’s very rare to find a house that is both residential and commercially zoned, mainly because investors tend to grab them quickly. Judging from the street view, it looks like it is currently being used as a multi-family home. Newport, Maine, is a tiny town with a population of less than 5,000. It reminds me of Livingston Manor in New York, and I can see it becoming a curated store like Corners or a coffee shop with a living space on the upper levels.

Among The Trees of Raleigh, North Carolina

Whenever summer hits in Florida, I think about the Carolinas more than any other time of year. Some say North Carolina is the perfect state—somewhat mild winters, a decent amount of job opportunities, and lots of nature for the outdoorsy kind.

This particular home has definitely gotten an upgrade since its last street view shot, but it still has so much potential. The steps lining the front porch were a step in the right direction, though.

A Creative’s Dream in Claverack, New York

I couldn’t wait to publish this post to talk about this home, so TikTok saw it first, but I am obsessed. The look of this home/showroom/studio on the outside is definitely giving industrial zone, but the inside makes up for it. Claverack is right outside the Catskills and Hudson area, about an hour from Albany and 2 hours to New York. I think it’s the perfect location for a creative to get away from the city, especially with Hudson gaining popularity since the pandemic. If I were the listing agent for this home, I’d save it for a ceramicist, painter, or vintage furniture seller.

The House That Would Convince Me To Move to Albuquerque, New Mexico

A few years ago, there was a TikTok trend where people made videos showing what AI imagined homes in each state looked like. In one of those videos, I saw a house in New Mexico that looked eerily similar to this one. I know this is a wild stereotype, and not every home in New Mexico looks like this, but I almost wish they did. Again, entryways make all the difference in a home.

A True Family Home in Manhattan, Kansas

Okay, this one is a bit crazy, but if I had a big family, this is the kind of house I’d want to live in. First of all, so many rooms! I feel like no one talks about how much of a pain it must be to live in an open-concept home when you have kids. There are no rooms to hide the mess from guests or get away from loud teenagers.

I’m guessing the parents here work from home, too, with all the home offices (three, if I counted right) and a studio out back. It definitely has "sleepover house" vibes, which is exactly what I’d want to be known for if I had kids.

That’s it for today! I’d love to hear which of these homes is your favorite. And if you live near any of these areas, feel free to share what they’re really like beyond what I found online in the comments!

Thanks for reading!

Read more about Between The B&W here.

If you like this newsletter, please consider sharing it with others.

Here is every Between The B&W newsletter to date.

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Growing up, I loved watching ‘Monthly Favorites’ videos on YouTube. Every month, I’d wait for my favorite beauty gurus to upload their videos, ready to discover the next thing I’d spend the next four weeks begging my parents to buy me.

My favorite takeaway from growing up in that era is how obsessed we’ve always been with lip products. The EOS Sphere Lip Balms and Maybelline Baby Lips were the equivalent of today’s Summer Fridays Lip Butter Balms and Rhode Peptide Lip Treatments.

Now that I’m older, I’ve come to appreciate, overconsumption aside, how special this kind of content can be. Sometimes, I rewatch Bethany Mota’s or Amanda Steele’s videos to re-discover all the iconic products that have come and gone since then (shoutout to the Clarisonic, I do not miss you).

With that in mind, I’m excited to slowly return to the newsletter with my Summer Semester Report—a roundup of everything that has defined the past three to four months of my life.

Alright, let’s get into it:

I’ve wanted to learn how to play tennis for a few years now and, after finding every excuse around it, I finally took my first tennis lesson a few weeks ago. Possibly at the worst timing ever because we had tennis courts in our community in DR, but it’s like that sometimes, isn’t it? Anyway, I was terrible at it, but part of me knew it would be that way, and that’s why it took me so long to finally book a lesson. I’ve never been good at sports—it just doesn’t come naturally to me. I ended up loving it regardless and booked my next lesson before my first lesson was even over. So, here’s to hoping I can eventually play an entire match without sending the ball all the way over to the Florida Everglades 🥲

Just Bought

• I finally got an Oura Ring—my second one, actually. I first tried it during a wellness kick in May to improve my sleep but returned it within a week, not seeing the long-term benefit. A few months later, my doctor pointed out my resting heart rate was a bit concerning for my age, and I ended up starting medication for it. He also recommended I start paying closer attention to my body, and that’s when I decided to give the Oura Ring another try. While wearable tech often gets overhyped, I’ve found the data more helpful this time, though it’s definitely not something I’d recommend to everyone.

• I’m committed to La Roche-Posay products and have repurchased the Toleriane Double Repair Matte Moisturizer more times than I can count. However, in February, I decided to try the Clinique Dramatically Different Moisturizing Gel. While it’s not life-changing, I’m impressed by how long the travel-size version has lasted—I’ve been using it daily since I bought it and still have at least a month’s worth left. Though I remain loyal to my La Roche-Posay moisturizer, this one is perfect for specific use cases due to its hydrating, lightweight texture, which makes it perfect to apply at nighttime, before makeup, or while traveling. It may not be revolutionary, but it’s reliable enough to have earned its place in my skincare cabinet.

• I’m on a mission to upgrade my staple accessories this year, which has come with some larger purchases. My first purchase was the Movado Serio Watch, inspired by my mom’s nearly identical version she’s had since before I was born. Then, a few weeks later, while frolicking through Disney Springs, I found the Burberry Knight Sunglasses at Sunglass Hut. I initially regretted this purchase and even went back the next weekend to return them, but ultimately couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’m glad I didn’t because they’re always in my purse now and have become my favorite purchase of the year.

Resurrected

• I’ve always been obsessed with Harvest Moon games (iykyk), so when I discovered that Natsume had launched a remake of A Wonderful Life a few months ago, I immediately picked up my Switch again. This inspired me to add a " Resurrected " section to the newsletter. I was this close to upgrading to the Nintendo Switch OLED with White Joy-Cons because a) it’s cuter and b) it’s bigger and supposedly better. But I held off and stuck with my trusty grey Nintendo Switch Lite that I’ve had since 2020. Consider this your reminder to check what you already own—it’s very likely you already have some form of that shiny, new thing you’ve convinced yourself you need.

• When I was around ten, I convinced my dad to buy me a Pandora bracelet and all the charms that caught my eye back then. A few years into my teens, I stopped using it because Pandora bracelets were “not it” anymore, and well, I was a teenager who thought she could not be seen wearing a fully stacked Pandora. A part of me always felt guilty for not wearing it anymore after my dad went out of his way to buy it for me, so this summer, I decided to bring it out of retirement. I upgraded to a larger bracelet since the old one was too small, and I am rocking all the charms my 10-year-old self picked out as part of my jewelry stack.

Returned

• I wanted to love the walking pad—like, genuinely—but it just wasn’t for me. I can see why it’s popular, especially for those in colder climates, but living in Florida, I can walk outside year-round as long as I get out early enough or later in the day to avoid the worst of the heat. So, while it’s a great option for some, it didn’t seem like the best investment for me, especially considering the hike in my electricity bill from daily use.

• I finally picked up Abbey Jimenez’s Part of Your World series this summer. I was looking for a light summer romance with a bit of trauma in the mix, and that’s exactly what I got. The first book, Part of Your World, was my least favorite. It was promising at first, but the ending was underwhelming. However, it’s still worth reading since some characters reappear in the later books, especially in Just For The Summer. I think Yours Truly was probably my favorite out of all of them, but Just For The Summer really brought the whole series together!

• I haven’t watched too many movies or shows this summer, but I did watch the final season of Elite in August. I’m not sure if this show was popular in the U.S., but it was back home, which made this season feel like the end of an era. Personally, I think the show should have ended with season three, but I was already too invested to stop watching. The TL;DR of the show is “rich kids getting away with everything.” It sounds terrible when you put it that way, but I would recommend it if you’re into soft thrillers—just be prepared for loose ends.

• It’s been a girl summer in the music department for me. All I managed to listen to was Sabrina Carpenter, Chapell Roan, Gracie Abrams, Charli XCX, and Taylor Swift. Sue me!

This mid-century inspired house on the eastern Florida coast.

I discovered the cutest NYC bakery while doing research for Cakehaus.

Really loving these “Work From Shed” home offices.

The most perfect wedding venue ever.

Poppy Lissiman sunglasses are on my wishlist.

I have been really into slab fonts recently!

Cakehaus is official!

Ah! Honestly, this was probably the highlight of my summer. I’ve been working on this project with my mom since the beginning of the year, and seeing it go from nothing to having events booked every weekend starting this month, now that the weather is finally cooling down, almost brings me to tears. Launching a food business has been challenging, but I’ve learned so much in the process. After moving to Florida, my mom thought her baking days were over, so beyond the business itself, Cakehaus has given her back a lot of the joy she lost when she moved here, which has been the absolute best part of it all.

We hope to have nationwide shipping someday, but until then, catch us around Central Florida! <3

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It’s always frustrating that whenever many exciting things are happening in my life that I would love to share with you, the words are always harder to write. I’m going to guess that it’s because my brain is still trying to acclimate itself to everything. Still, in reality, I know it’s my unwillingness to sit down and process everything as it’s happening. And I know that even if I forced myself to, I’d come up empty-handed.

Wednesday, February 21, 2024

My rut overstayed its welcome, and I’m still in the same place I was two weeks ago. Except now I am writing to you from yet another flight — dreading going back home next week to continue digging myself into an even deeper hole. It’s been so long since I felt this way that I can’t describe how I’m feeling.

In a way, I feel relieved — relieved that I don’t feel guilty about not sending a newsletter or posting on social media. And maybe that’s selfish. You’re all here because I promised to send a newsletter to you every week. But beyond the commitment I feel to you, there is always fear. “Am I going to send a weekly newsletter forever? Because the thought of that kind of scares me…”

If I’m honest with you, I am not sure when I will build up enough momentum to send this newsletter.

Monday, June 10, 2024

And now I come to you from the start of the summer. It’s sunny and hot in Florida. Very hot. I’m moving in just a few days to a small farm where I’ll finally fulfill my lifelong dream of having chickens. It’s a short move, which I am grateful for because I’m not sure I can handle the overseas move again. I see pieces of my hometown everywhere I go now as if my heart has at long last accepted that this is it now, my new home, and it’s good, despite everything. I traveled to Europe for the first time a few weeks ago to visit an old friend. It was like no time had passed, and it filled me with so much love and appreciation. I am also prepping everything for my mom’s first bakery pop-up in July — a project that now feels just as much mine as hers.

A lot has happened, and it feels like I’m finally coming into myself. I stopped writing because I felt I wasn’t living up to the creative life I portrayed here. I thought I had to act or live a certain way to be worthy of this newsletter. So, I let life unfold and was reminded of something I’ve always known — creativity happens in the in-between moments. It doesn’t demand anything; it simply co-exists with you. It’s not a result or even an action. Sometimes, you need a reminder that you are creative just as you are because no one else can see and feel what you do, and that is the most creative act of all.

I’ve decided my favorite thing to feel is nostalgia because what a privilege to know I’ve lived a life where I’ve felt so full that a piece of me stayed at that point in time. So, I will continue to leave pieces of me everywhere because every time I do, a new one is revealed in the mosaic that is my life.

Thank you for sticking around all this time — I’ll be back in your inbox regularly one day, hopefully soon.

With love,

Wilda

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As I sit here, writing this newsletter, I can’t stop thinking about all of the errands I have to get to before it’s too late. The catch is, despite the urgency, I'm stuck — trying to get over my post-travel high and too consumed by the day-to-day responsibilities that I can’t ignore.

Creative brains are messy.

We’re constantly trying to navigate the balance between craving new experiences and seeking comfort in the familiar in order to function. For me, that looks like wanting to go work at a coffee shop for a change of scenery but deciding not to because, knowing myself, I wouldn’t get any work done.

I sometimes wish we didn’t have to thread between those two mental spaces — that every day could be either spontaneous or meticulously planned, and it wouldn’t throw our brains in a loop. Yet, reality unfolds differently. Some days, you will be tired, you won’t be able to get much work done, your routine will be completely thrown off, and in the end, it will be worth it. These (actually very small) moments of disruption are the price we all pay for experiencing new things, meeting new people, and shaking off the looming weight of adulthood— they’re supposed to shake up our routines.

Don’t sit in the same place forever, trying to avoid a little hiccup here and there. You don’t want to think back on all the things you didn’t do because they might have been a slight inconvenience, only to wish you would’ve done it anyway. At the end of the day, your creativity will thrive in return, and your life won’t break. If anything, it will only become more fulfilling. After all, would moments of joy even exist if inconveniences didn’t?

This Week’s Digest

1. Do you ever think something will never happen, and it ends up happening anyway? That’s exactly how I felt when TikTok removed all music from UMG artists. It feels like we’re back in the 2013 YouTube era when this was the kind of music you’d find on all videos.

2. If there is one thing Courtney always tries to bring into this newsletter, it’s fashion moments. Here are some Fall 2024 Copenhagen Fashion Week trends to check out! The most jarring one so far is peplum tops making a comeback. I'm not sure I am ready for that one, but I’m curious to see how it plays out!

   

3. My new favorite website is 5 Books Like It. I’m sure I am not the only one who finishes a book and immediately wants to reach for something similar — assuming that I enjoyed reading said book. I typically spend days looking for my next read because nothing seems to catch my attention, even though my TBR list is constantly growing these days. Although it’s a growing site, they have quite a few popular books on there, and I love how they break down their reviews!

4. Update! I finally decorated my Kindle. I filmed the process and will post it on TikTok soon, but I figured y’all deserved a preview. I ended up getting my stickers from Redbubble after all. However, I have the Kindle Basic, which is on the smaller end, and most stickers were too big. So, as a workaround, I designed an insert using Canva and printed it out. I still purchased the stickers I used even though I just grabbed the images from the site because we do not steal from small businesses here.

   

5. “Gen Z hates boomers, everyone hates millennials, and no one thinks about Gen X. Why are we so obsessed with talking about generations?” I loved reading this article because I wasn’t too involved with all of the generation talk until late 2019 - early 2020. Maybe I was too young before to notice, but I don’t think we’ve ever been as obsessed with pointing out generational differences as we are today. Sure, sayings like “kids these days” have always existed, but to me, it used to be kids vs. adults and not so much generation vs. generation. I wonder at what point we’ll lose interest in trying to compartmentalize our collective experiences. I am not saying researchers should lose interest in it at all, but maybe we, as non-researchers, one day will.

From My Bookmarks

Alaïa SF24 Show

I am obsessed with nearly every single piece from this collection. The layers, the volume, the silhouettes — it’s all giving. Some of the comments I read said the pants featured above are reminiscent of coffee filters, which I thought was funny. Whatever your feelings may be, you cannot deny walking in these is mesmerizing.

Prospect Park Mural Wallpaper

Wallpapers that are more than just a pattern hold a special place in my heart. I'm looking forward to the day when I have enough rooms in my house to create little worlds. While this one in particular is a natural fit for a children's bedroom or playroom, I'm intrigued by the idea of incorporating it into an adult space as well. Maybe an office or sunroom?

Menu Design In America

First and foremost, I love the concept behind Rebecca Gardner’s shop, Houses and Parties. As a designer, I was very pleased to come across this find! It includes almost 800 menus dating back to 1850, and it has a companion title as well, Menu Design in Europe. Both books have been added to my wishlist!

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