26/09/2026
Four years ago today, this was me in Mum and Dad’s garage, surrounded by hundreds of little wooden pigeonholes.
We’d closed at the end of July to rebuild the Arthur Street store from the inside out. Every one of those boxes was sanded by hand, sealed, painted, sealed again, then pieced back together in the new store like a puzzle to become our beauty and wellness wall.
When I look at this photo I see excitement, a vision slowly coming to life. I also remember the fear. Rent and expenses still going out while the doors stayed shut. Tradies we couldn’t get. A whole interior to rebuild, furniture to fit out, and a store full of treasures already paid for and waiting to sparkle. In retail, October to December are the months that make or break the year, and every week we weren’t open weighed heavily. Add a three-year-old at home, and the questions that kept me awake: will this be good enough? Am I making the right call? The fear and doubt felt familiar, sitting right alongside the creativity and excitement.
In that final stretch I’d head in at 2am while the city slept, pop my AirPods in with my favourite tunes, and do what I do best: curating treasures alongside each other and working out the stories they’d tell, until it started to feel like home. Often the window cleaner was the only other soul around, working away on the glass while I worked inside. Dad would arrive at 7 with breakfast and a cup of tea, asking what I needed.
That’s what I remember most now: the kindness. Family sanding box after box. Friends and staff who kept showing up. Amma Bunting, who helped me bring the interior to life. Small business can feel lonely. Back then, the worry was mine to carry, and so was the vision of how every piece of the puzzle would come together, because no one else could see it until it was finished. But those quiet acts of kindness held me up when I needed it most. I’ll never forget them. You know who you are, and I’m so grateful.
With much gratitude,
Renee
