Leaving Texas

I was standing in the middle of Waco. A gritty industrial town with construction at every turn and warehouses galore. If you were to judge this book by its cover, you’d miss out on what the city has to offer. It wasn’t known for its beauty, but somehow beauty had sprung up there in the name of Magnolia. Drawing more than 30,000 visitors a week.

For those unfamiliar, Magnolia is the brainchild of Chip and Joanna Gaines from the popular HGTV show Fixer Upper. But unlike most HGTV stars, they are entrepreneurs who have built an empire of retail, restaurants, and real estate alongside an entire television network.

Magnolia is the gold standard of how to build a brand for me. It wasn’t only in how they claimed an entire aesthetic (“modern farmhouse”) but the way everyone who touches their brand feels as though they are friends with Chip and Jo. I had long been an admirer from afar. The home design was, of course, nice but what really got me interested were the raw stories they weren’t afraid to share. How Chip and Joanna almost went bankrupt early on in their career to stepping out and opening a storefront long before they had money or were “known.” Like them or not, there is a level of undeniable respect for what they’ve been able to build. Since following their journey, I’ve indulged in Magnolia’s quarterly magazines, awed over their team’s retail displays, and used their curated Instagram feeds as inspiration for how to further build Cladwell’s brand. 

Or so I thought.

Amid the excitement of visiting The Silo’s for the first time, Magnolia’s entire city block, I couldn’t help but notice that something was off. It dawned on me that I’d only felt this way one other time in my life: six years earlier, after moving out to Silicon Valley. By the time I returned to the hotel, the feelings hit me like a ton of bricks. It wasn’t just the inspiration I’d been gleaning from Magnolia all these years. It was the comparison.

To quote Brene Brown, “Comparison is actually not an emotion, but it drives all sorts of big feelings that can affect our relationships and our self-worth. More often than not, social comparison falls outside of our awareness—we don’t even know we’re doing it.”

I discovered that as I ran my business, I had fallen down an incredibly slippery slope of trying to follow their path rather than create my own. Surrounded by an overwhelming amount of content in a highly curated world, I can’t help but look around for beautiful ideas to inspire me. Believe me, they do, but they also, at times, make me feel inferior. 

Inspiration I gather can quickly morph into a soul-crushing rumination on somebody else’s business in a way that leaves me feeling paralyzed or never good enough. It not only stifles my creativity but leaves me questioning whether or not I’ll ever reach the pinnacle of “success.”

Here’s the paradox of comparison that reinforces why many founders and startups are rife with chaos. It’s the pressure to both fit in and stand out—simultaneously. To be just like Magnolia, but also better than Magnolia. To be familiar, but also new and exciting.

With inspiration comes a fork in the road. You can take a turn towards comparison and land in self-doubt or imitation. Or you can turn toward admiration, leading to creation and motivation. 

Now, when I’m inspired, I take a moment to ask myself, “Does this feel more like me (creativity/creation), or more like them (inferiority/imitation)?” Today, comparison mode is easier to spot. There’s a hint of panic-inducing energy, the need to try and keep up rather than run my own race. If I do catch myself in a full-on spiral, it’s what I do next that matters: I can either slide further down or climb back up to a place of admiration. 

And that—admiration—is the real gift I received from watching what Chip and Joanna have accomplished.

I came to Waco to get new ideas for Cladwell. While The Silo’s were beautiful, what really inspired me was that two people who had a vision built something that truly reflected who they were, despite where they lived. I believe at my core that if more people had the courage to do just that, the world would look like a wonderfully different place. By doing what we were each made to do, we can serve others in ways we can’t possibly imagine.

Leaving Texas, I realized I didn’t need to replicate the Magnolia dream. I wanted to build my own.