What I do for a living

You know those friends you’re too close to ask what they actually do for a living but if you’re honest, you have no idea?

I’m that friend.

Ever since I stepped outside the easy-to-understand career of "I own a clothing store" it’s became much less clear. I started taking on other jobs. Following threads. Building things. And suddenly, I wasn’t so easy to explain.

But the truth is, what I do best IS the undefined. I’ve always been more comfortable in the murk than in the neatly labeled because I never saw myself in the neatly labeled. And honestly, that’s where I found the most success.

When I stopped trying to find the right answer and just started building things that needed to exist versus chasing the out-of-the-box solutions everything changed. And once I realized that this was my gift, my purpose, my passion, I had the audacity to start telling people: I can help. Not just with my own murky problems but with theirs too. So much so that I would shove my foot in the door of other peoples careers that I wildly admire and say “I think you could be doing this better.” Not for optimization for optimization sake but because I could tell their creativity was getting trapped under the rubble of what modern society tells you you have to be doing.

I started realizing that sitting in the murk wasn’t just something I was good at. It was something I could offer. I could help other people map their own undefined paths. Not by saying, "this is the way," but by saying: “Here are a few places we could go next and once we move, it’ll get clearer. And I’ll hold your hand! And it will be fun, I promise!”

I don’t need someone to hand me a clean, well-formed problem. I want the whole messy plot. Tell me everything you do. Why you do it. Even if you don’t know. That’s where we start. We figure out what to keep, what to delegate, what to let go of. We create something that fits your life not someone else’s playbook that probably has nothing to do with your exact day to day headaches.

Even while I was consulting in other industries, I never stopped building for mine. Because I love retail. I love the people in it. I love the people that support it. The visionaries who turn physical spaces into experiences. The ones that curate goods and make them all come together. Especially the ones who take many designers and weave them into a storybook of a shop.

I saw how unsustainable it had all become. The workload. The expectations. The pace. I tried, over and over, to get others to build the solutions these store owners so clearly needed. I spoon-fed ideas. I pitched. I begged. Nothing changed.

So I built it myself.

Inventor-Ease was never a "product idea." It was a response. A love-fueled, frustration-backed, meticulously designed response to a problem I could no longer ignore.

The stakes in retail have only gotten higher. You're expected to be a store owner, content creator, data analyst, trend forecaster, and customer service expert all at once. You have to keep up with the fastest trend cycles ever, while navigating the slowest supply chain ever. You're being asked to commit to pre-made goods a year in advance… while fast fashion brands can turn around dupes in a matter of weeks. You need e-commerce and in-person strategy and social media and email flows and a crystal ball. And the truth is, most of the tools out there? They're built for people working behind a desk vs working on a shop floor.

There are so many people who can help make your business look better—the website developers, the stylists, the social media managers, the merchandisers. I love those people. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the invisible parts. The quiet, critical tasks that keep getting dropped because there’s no time left at the end of the day. The stuff that’s not shiny, but necessary.

Someone had to build a system that supports the actual operating of a modern store—not just how it presents. But because this is a mission that’s near and dear to my heart, it couldn’t just be okay. It had to be right.

I tried working with people who had a "just ship it and figure it out later" mentality. And I get it. I’ve run that model. I’ve built the plane while it was flying. But this? This is different. This is relief. This is dependability. We’re not selling trendy hype. We’re selling something you can trust.

After two years of studying the problem, building systems, undoing systems, and starting again—I can finally say it: I am SO PROUD of what I’ve built. Not because it’s perfect. But because it’s working. It’s useful. It’s solid. It solves real problems.

It’s my Dyson vacuum: Beautifully overthought. Built to last. Extremely satisfying once you’ve lived with it. I’ve had to undo months of work when I realized something wasn’t the right path. I’ve taught myself how to code. I’ve designed workflows. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve started over. And I’d do it all again. Because the version it is today? I wouldn’t trade it.

And I want you to feel that too. That moment when you know, deep in your gut: this thing I made… it’s good. It’s going to work. Not because it’s trendy. Not because it’s optimized. But because it matters.

I know what I built is a niche solution for a niche industry that probably has nothing to do with you. But I also know this: There are thousands of industries like mine I have no idea about that are facing similar challenges. Quietly broken. Slowly crumbling. Held together by the creativity, exhaustion, and duct tape of the people inside them. And most people are still waiting “an expert” to come fix it. But let me tell you what I know for sure- there is no better expert than the one living in the challenges.

And now we’re seeing what happens when we depend on the people with the most money, the most fame, the most self-serving ideologies to come up with those solutions. They don’t work. Or sure I guess they do. They work for the Zuckerbergs, the Bezoses, the Musks of it all. And yes, there is always place for big systems. I even hope MY company becomes a big system because we need more women and grounded problem solvers in the Nasdaq lineup.

I’m not here to brag about my journey or what I’ve built because it has been anything but perfect. It has been awkward. It has been taxing. It has stretched me beyond what I thought I was capable of. But I’m proud of every part of it. And this new chapter: It’s the one I feel the MOST proud of.

And I want you to find that too. I want you to trust that you can make something better. Even when attempt 1, 10, 100 doesn’t work. Or find people who can. I want you to know you have the right to keep asking for better solutions. You do not have to keep accepting the hands you were dealt. There’s no time for that anymore.

So that’s what I do for a living:

I have audacity.

I believe in myself.

I believe in the people I work with.

And guess what? I believe in you too.

"I’m not good at tech."

"I’m not good with money."

"I hate social media."

Whatever it is. It’s no longer an excuse. We weren’t put on this earth to hide behind tasks we don’t like or systems we didn’t choose. We’re here to stretch. To try. To build what we wish existed.

The first attempt probably won’t be perfect. But just do it like me and don’t blast it to the world until you feel called to.

Just promise me this: Please don’t let your creativity, your vision, and what you bring into the world die under the rubble of systems that have been sold to you as "just how it’s done."

You deserve better. Your corner of the world deserves better.

The world desperately needs your voice and your vision. Right now.

And I believe the challenges in front of us are ripe for a fresh perspective.

So bring it.

We need you.

Sincerely,

Your friend Victoria who is high off of finally shipping my biggest passion project after 2 years, fed up with the state of the world, and listened to a Tony Robbins tape from the 90s this week.