Last time, I told you how Dances With Wool began, that quiet what if that turned into a leap of faith in October of 2016. Today I want to tell you what those very first days actually looked like.
Spoiler: I had no idea what I was doing. I mean that with complete honesty. No business background, no sense of who my customer would be, no years of retail experience to fall back on when something went wrong, which, in those early days, was more often than I care to admit.
What I did have was instinct. When it came time to fill the shelves, I didn't have data or trends or a customer profile to guide me. I had only attended one market (also without a clue of what I was doing or how I was supposed to act). So I did the only thing I knew how to do: I ordered yarn I loved from a very small list I made for my business plan, met with those vendors, and chose yarn in a way you'd choose a gift for a friend, hoping that if it spoke to me, then it might speak to someone else too. Looking back, that was either incredibly brave or a little bit reckless. Possibly both. But it turned out to be the right instinct. What I didn't know at the time was that with each purchase, I was filling the shop with the feeling I wanted it to have.
And just so you understand exactly how little I knew (full confession!): I didn't even know how to wind yarn onto a swift. One of the most basic tools in the whole shop, and I had no idea what to do with it. My dear friend Joyce had to teach me. Joyce was there from day one. She is one of the most patient people in my corner. She was so steady, and honestly, a little bit of a lifeline in those early days. She had a calmness that kept me sane while I was learning the most basic mechanics of running a yarn shop right alongside the bigger lessons.
And then there was Nikki. Before Dances With Wool ever opened its doors, I hired the first person who would help me build it. Nikki interviewed with me before there was even a shop to open, and I remember exactly what made the decision easy... her honesty and her sincerity. She was simply, completely herself. She had real experience, which I desperately needed since I had none. Ten years later, that hasn't changed. Nikki is still here, still my close advisor, and somewhere along the way, one of my dearest friends. I'm not sure Dances With Wool would have survived its first year without her experience and steadiness. I lacked so much confidence at that time in my ability to help fix mistakes or answer questions. She knew so much more than I did, and I really leaned on her.
That's the thing about building something from nothing. Even though I was the one who made this leap, I never had to go it alone.
But here's what I think mattered most, even more than the yarn or the lessons... that first year, we started our very first stitch group. A handful of chairs, a table, and whoever showed up. It grew into a steady stream of regulars and new faces, and so many of those members are still part of our community today.
Because if I'm honest, and as I've mentioned before, the yarn was never really the point. Community was the reason I opened the doors in the first place, and that little stitch group was the first proof that this crazy idea of mine might just work. That people didn't just want a place to buy yarn, they wanted a place to belong. After all, I felt that after my divorce, my retirement, and my move to Midlothian from the place I grew up and raised my kids.
We were small, but we were scrappy. I was buying yarn on instinct and praying it would land with our customers. And somehow, against the odds, it was working.
Those early years taught me so much about yarn, about running a business, and bout this community I was just beginning to know.
But nothing taught me more than what came a few years later, when everything I'd built was tested in ways I never could have imagined. I'll tell you that part of the story next. It's not an easy one. But it might be the most important chapter of all.