Part II :: Becoming a Business
If the first part was about how Naughty Good began, this is the part where it changed. Because somewhere along the way, what was never meant to be a business… started asking to become one. And what was never meant to be mine alone… became just that.
When I first imagined Naughty Good, it wasn’t a business. It was a moment. An experience. Something fun, meaningful, and shared.
And for a while, that’s exactly what it was.
During the months after Christmas in Strafford, everything was clicking into place—not in a polished, buttoned-up way, but in the kind of messy, energizing way that makes you feel like you’re onto something.
We were showing up in the community, creating space for young girls and women to feel seen, confident, and celebrated. We hosted sip-and-sample events with local partners, where people tasted new flavors, gave feedback, and built boxes for each other. We started the “NaughtyGood Woman of the Month,” inviting people to nominate women doing incredible things, and then surprising them with recognition and celebration.
These were the moments that felt like the heartbeat of the brand. It wasn’t just about the product, it was about connection. All of it felt bigger than anything I had planned.
Somewhere in the middle of all that momentum, reality started to settle in. What we had created wasn’t just a one-time thing anymore. It had the potential to become something real, something bigger.
What do we want this to be?
We were both business owners, wives, and moms of three. My business allowed for a bit more flexibility in my days, and I found myself leaning in hard. Not because I wanted to take over, but because I was excited. I didn’t want it to feel like a burden to her, so I just… kept going. Filling in gaps. Moving things forward.
Looking back, I can see how that might have felt like I was taking over. At the time, though, it came from a place of love for what we were building—and honestly, love for building it together.
The shift, when it came, wasn’t dramatic. It was honest. It was kind. It was one of those conversations that doesn’t break anything, but quietly changes everything. It became clear that I was ready to move at a different pace and was seeing a vision for what this could become.
She met that with generosity, not resistance. She didn’t try to hold me back. Just a release—a blessing, really.
“Take it and run with it. I’ll be cheering you on.”
And still… it knocked the wind out of me.
I never would have started this without her. I wouldn’t have seen it as a business. I wouldn’t have felt the same spark. I wouldn’t have taken it seriously. We built the beginning together. And that mattered.
So stepping into it alone wasn’t just a logistical shift, it was emotional. There was a quiet grieving process I didn’t expect. I pulled back, not publicly, but internally. Trying to figure out what this looked like now. Trying to find a new rhythm, a new energy… a new sense of ownership that felt aligned.
That fall season, I started rebuilding. This time as a business, not just an idea. And this time as a solo founder, not a team.
I created themed collections, reimagined the brand experience, designed new packaging, rebuilt the website, and thought more intentionally about how everything came together. I came out of the gate with a full holiday push. It felt bold, and a little scary.
But people responded. Orders kept coming in and momentum started building. I leaned further into what mattered most—celebrating women, creating connection, and giving back—finding small ways to make the business feel like it stood for something more.
It felt like everything was starting to click. Like the business was firing on all cylinders. Just as I started to find my footing… 2020 hit.
Everything shut down. Everything shifted. And I remember thinking, there’s no way this survives.
But what happened next was something I could have never planned.
» Part III Coming Soon »