The Truth About “Making It” — Our Time in Macy’s

When people ask me what it felt like to “make it,” this moment always flashes to the front of my mind.

We had just been invited into a pilot program with Macy’s—yes, Macy’s. They were featuring a handful of new independent brands in some of their top-performing stores across the country.

And Pure Placid was one of them.

Our first location? Boston.

I was ecstatic.
This felt like the moment every small business dreams of.
Our candles and body care—on display in one of the most iconic retail stores in the country? Unreal.

I traveled to every location we were placed in: Boston, Pittsburgh, Fort Lauderdale, Los Angeles, and Detroit.
It was just me and one other person back then, doing it all.
Packing boxes. Figuring out shipping. Creating barcodes and SKUs for the first time. We went from hand-labeling jars for farmers markets to suddenly needing full product layouts and inventory systems.

It was exciting—but it was also trial by fire.

I delivered our first Macy’s shipment myself, in a car.
No truck. No pallet jack. Just boxes, nerves, and a lot of hope.
When I pulled up to the Boston Macy’s loading dock, they looked at me like I was lost.
“Ma’am… we don’t take deliveries like this.”

But they saw my enthusiasm and made it work.

And then—there it was:
A full 15 x 10 section of the store, dedicated to Pure Placid. Posters. Displays. Even a video reel on a screen.

I stood there with my husband and thought:
We made it.

But here’s what most people don’t see:
Getting into big box retail is a dream—but it’s also a whole new game. And it’s hard.

I had to create full product training decks for the Macy’s team—something I’d never done before. Because here's the thing: if the staff doesn’t know your brand, they don’t sell your product. And if it doesn’t sell? They send it back. And actually, brands often have their own sales people in those stores selling their products! It takes work for a new brand to get noticed in a sea of familiar brands.

Yep—if your products sit on the shelves, you’re expected to buy them back.
Not only that, but you have to pay for shipping them back to yourself.

It was a crash course in retail.
Margins were tighter than ever.
Logistics got complicated.
And communication? Let’s just say big corporations and tiny teams like mine don’t always sync well. 

There was also the emotional learning.
I remember being approached by the Detroit store manager, concerned about the name Whiteface Hike. It was named after Whiteface Mountain in the Adirondacks, but they thought it sounded racially insensitive.
It shocked me—but it taught me something important: Not every name translates across regions.
I changed it to Adirondack Chair—and honestly, it was a great upgrade.

Eventually, reality caught up with the dream.
Returns piled up. Orders got missed.
We were too small. They were too big.
And then COVID hit—and just like that, the whole program ended.

But you know what?
We were in Macy’s.

It didn’t make us rich.
It didn’t change everything.
But it changed me.

It taught me what it really means to scale.
That enthusiasm isn’t enough—you need systems. Training. Strategy.
It showed me that shiny opportunities aren’t always sustainable ones.
And it proved that I could rise to challenges I’d never imagined.

Here’s the truth I carry forward from that experience:

Big doesn’t always mean better.
Growth isn’t just about getting into stores—
it’s about knowing which ones are right for you.

So yes, we had our moment in Macy’s.
And it was magical.

But it was also messy, complicated, and full of lessons I’m still grateful for.