The Idea Behind Dwelling

I’ve always been entrepreneurial — at least in theory.

For years, I’d notice gaps everywhere: corporate gift baskets that didn’t feel like swag, apps that could make golf fun for non‑golfers, better ways to help businesses actually use AI. The ideas were constant, but none of them felt tangible enough to grab onto. They stayed ideas.

What was tangible was how I spent my time.

I was always helping friends figure out how to arrange a living room, choose paint colors, or make a house feel more like them. I’d get compliments on my own home and hear things like, “When I move, you’re decorating my place.” Somehow, that still didn’t register as something I could actually do. It felt like a hobby, not a path.

Meanwhile, I was redecorating my own house — over and over again. That led to a spare room slowly filling with furniture and art from consignment stores. Pieces I loved, pieces that had lived a life before me. What I didn’t love was the idea of selling them myself.

Facebook Marketplace was a non‑starter. Negotiating, coordinating pickups, strangers coming to my house — and all of it missing the tactile joy of finding and rehoming something thoughtfully. The process stripped the romance out of it.

Around the same time, I was staring down the idea of going back into the office five days a week. A life in corporate America that barely covers childcare and definitely doesn’t leave time to thrift, wander, or hunt for something special. And that’s when it clicked: instead of trying to squeeze shopping into my life, I wanted to build the place I wished I could shop.

With two young kids, weekend antiquing trips weren’t realistic. Neither was saving up time and money only to buy particle‑board “designer” furniture that’s meant to be replaced in five years. I can’t afford thousand‑dollar pieces — but the world can’t afford to keep making disposable ones either.

High‑end secondhand online? Intimidating. I don’t have the time, the patience, or frankly the desire to decode provenance. Who was King Louis anyway?

Starting Dwelling feels a bit like going back to school. I’m learning constantly, sometimes applying things incorrectly, and figuring it out as I go. (More on that in another post.) But there’s something energizing about being a beginner again — especially when the end goal feels aligned with how I already live.

Atlanta feels like the right place to try this. It’s diverse, design‑forward, and full of women like me — trying to create something beautiful while holding the rest of their families together. People who care about their homes, but also care about time, budget, and sustainability.

So this is an experiment.

I’m giving it a year. I’m building slowly. I’m paying attention. And I’m seeing what happens when you create something you actually want to exist.

Welcome to Dwelling.