I could have also titled this blog post, how I became one of those Real Housewives with a bikini line that I’ve been snickering at for years without even knowing it.

As I was dialing in my income vs. expenses from last year on my beloved spreadsheet (Microsoft Excel for LIFE, she’s a lady in the streets and a freak in the spreadsheets) I was shocked at the amount of money I spent trying to “pivot” my business in this pandemic. Now, an easy way to temper this shock would have been to run my numbers bi-weekly or monthly throughout the year, but what can I say, turns out a pandemic, nebulousness from our governing body, mild depression and existential dread can leave a girl, uh, *unfocused*, to say the least. In a world that lives firmly planted in glossy existence of content creation and social media- you won’t see too many established artists willingly and publicly admit to hardships or shortcomings. So, I’ll start, for 2020, I ended my year $600 in the hole.

After running my numbers, I realized two things: 1) I need to stop convincing myself that shopping is manifesting and 2) what the f*ck would I have done if my husband wasn’t the breadwinner of our family. The first revelation, ok duh, I’ve had a shopping problem my whole working life regardless of my income level- so I’m not going to dive too much into that. The second revelation, crystalized in my mind the 2015 article by Aimee Groth for Quartz titled “Entrepreneurs don’t have a special gene for risk- they come from families with money.” Here’s a snippet:

“But what often gets lost in these conversations Is that the most common shared trait among entrepreneurs is access to financial capital- family money, an inheritance, a pedigree and connections that allow for access to financial stability. While it seems that entrepreneurs tend to have an admirable penchant for risk, it’s usually that access to money which allows them to take risks.”

Living in a country (the United States) that seems to value “pulling yourself up by your bootstraps” it’s kind of important to acknowledge that it’s easier to learn lessons when you can sit down in your house, drink a Nespresso and casually reflect on the past years’ choices, versus, let’s say, your car being repossessed because your pivot didn’t pan out. When I tell you I spent THOUSANDS trying to pivot my business, I’m really not joking. Whether it was press-on nails and stock for E-commerce, my fear that clients wouldn’t come back and I’d have to start offering pedicures, prepping my session kit for set work that didn’t materialize, bringing in new lines to the studio to appeal to different clientele and the list goes on and on and on. That’s not even taking into account that I had the means to stay compliant with the various state and regional closures, and never had to live/work in fear of being fined or sacrificing my health.

My whole career has been defined by a certain level of privilege, and I think it’s important to acknowledge that. Sure, I worked my butt off and put every skill I’ve acquired from life and business experience to hit the ground running- but my privilege had be starting the race at an advantage. I was able to walk away from a corporate job with a fat savings account that allowed me to pick-and-choose elite nail education, buy the best products and focus in a way that I may not have been able to if we depended on my income. My life has not always been financially stable or particularly charmed, however, I’ve always had a soft place to land, should I need to.

As somebody with influence (albeit minor) within our industry, the importance of transparency has become paramount, especially during hard times. If you are investing in your future and your business, you can and should be vetting your educators and influencers with a critical eye before investing. The social media landscape is a glossy place and it’s easy to feel left behind. Hang in there, you got this.