When I was growing up, the beauty industry was simply part of the rhythm of family life. It was dinner table conversation, weekends spent around the business, warehouse visits, and hair shows. It developed into the kind of stories that stay with you for years.
I didn’t grow up thinking, “One day, this will all be mine.” In fact, in many ways, I thought my path might lead somewhere else, entirely.
Today, however, I lead a multi-location salon business in an industry that has always been deeply human, at its core. Salons are built on trust. They are built on relationships and care, and on people feeling seen when they walk through the door. That has been true for generations in my family, and it still shapes the way I think about work.
At the same time, the business of running a salon is changing. Technology moves fast, teams grow, and client expectations shift. New systems promise greater efficiency, and these opportunities matter. However, the question I return to, again and again, is simple: how do you modernize without losing what makes a salon feel like home?
That tension shapes much of the way I lead. It has also taught me that growth is only meaningful when it strengthens the experience for the people at the heart of the business.
The Family Business I Grew Up In
One of the gifts of growing up in a family business is that your earliest memories of it rarely have anything to do with the business at all… and mine are not about strategy. They are about people.
I remember weekends shaped by hair shows, industry events, and time spent around the business. My little brother and I loved running around the warehouse, where every corner felt full of activity, and every person seemed to know us. At that age, I didn’t have the language for what the business represented. I only knew that it felt lively and full of connection.
My first understanding of the beauty industry was this: it was generous. It was deeply relational. It had its own atmosphere, and even its own scent memory. To this day, I can still connect certain shampoo smells to those early years. They carry the whole world within them – energy and creativity. I sensed very quickly that this industry was made up of people who cared deeply about what they did, and about one another.
That understanding was shaped largely by my grandparents. My grandfather was the relationship-builder. He was the person everyone remembered from the conversations he started, and the way he made people feel. My grandmother, on the other hand, brought a different perspective. She was the steady presence behind the scenes, keeping the business moving and grounded. She made sure the business had the structure it needed to support the care they offered.
Looking back, I can see that I was learning the heart of the business – long before I understood the mechanics of it. I was watching what it meant to build something through relationships, consistency, and trust… and this has stayed with me.
The Road to the Family Business
For a long time, I assumed my life would take a different shape. I was drawn to teaching. I spent years working with young people through volunteering, camps, and different educational programs. What stayed with me from that season was the privilege of walking alongside people as they grew and found their footing. I cared deeply about that work, and I expected to keep following it.
The turning point, however, snuck up on me, as defining moments almost always do. I was at my parents’ dining table, filling out applications to graduate school, when my dad sat down and asked if I could consider helping rebuild our family’s place in the beauty industry.
What made that choice so meaningful was everything I had already witnessed in my own family. I had seen what working together gave my parents and grandparents beyond a livelihood. It gave them a shared purpose, and it gave them closeness. It also offered them a way of building a life side-by-side, with all the complexity that comes with family, and all the care that makes it worthwhile.
I wanted the chance to be part of something like that, with my own parents. I also knew that teaching would still be there; I could return to that path later, if it was meant for me. Some chances arrive once, ask something honest of you, and deserve to be taken seriously. Saying yes to the family business came from that place. It felt like a risk, but also like an opportunity that shapes a life in the right way.
The Work Beneath The Work
One memory stands out more clearly than most, to me. I was still young when my grandparents received a lifetime achievement award in the beauty industry. Even then, I understood that I was witnessing something important. It felt like recognition for the way they moved through the industry, and how they treated people along the way.
Together, they showed me that a lasting business is shaped by the relationships people can see, and by the consistency they feel behind the scenes. My grandparents spoke about clients and employees, but they also spoke about connection. In our family, that was the language of the business then, and it has remained the language of the business for every generation since.
Care was never reserved for one side of the chair. Instead, it extends across the entire experience – from the guest walking through the door, to the team member working on the guest.
That understanding still guides the way I lead today. In this industry, people place trust in one another. Guests trust the person serving them, and teams trust the culture around them. With this in mind, owners are called to protect both. The work is personal, and the experience is remembered long after the appointment ends.
This is why relationships have always mattered so much in our world. They are the foundation the business stands on, and the reason it keeps moving forward.
Leading Through Resistance
When I bought my first salon at 23, I arrived with a great deal of energy – and a very clear sense of possibility. I was excited; I could already see all the ways the business might grow and modernize. From where I stood, momentum felt natural.
What I had not fully understood yet was how differently that moment would feel for the people already inside the business. Walking into a salon and saying, in effect, “Hi, I’m your owner now!” carries a message that no amount of enthusiasm can soften on its own. For a team, that moment can bring uncertainty before it brings confidence. People start wondering what will change, if anything new is expected, and whether the parts of the businesses they value most are still safe.
That was one of the earliest surprises for me. The hair and beauty industry moves with trends and creativity. From the outside, it can look naturally open to change. In practice, day-to-day change asks something more personal of people. Service providers often welcome new ideas when the rhythm of their routine or their work (or their sense of stability) starts to shift.
It took me some time to understand that resistance rarely appears without a reason. Most of the time, it is connected to something human. This could be…
- Concern about losing confidence
- Dread at feeling disconnected from their clients
- Perplexity at being pushed too quickly into unfamiliar territory
Once I began to see that more clearly, I stopped reading resistance as rejection. It became a cue to slow down, listen more carefully, and understand what people were trying to protect. I learned very quickly that leading change well asks for more than conviction.
It asks for patience and curiosity. It also asks for enough humility to recognize that people need room to process what change will mean for them. When you understand the fear underneath the hesitation, you can lead in a way that brings people with you – and in my experience, that’s where real progress begins.
Change Moves at the Speed of Trust
Over time, I’ve come to see modernization as a process that asks for far more than a new tool or system. Instead, it asks people to believe there is a good reason for the change, and to feel confident they will be supported as they learn their way through it. That part matters just as much as the technology itself.
In practice, change usually arrives with a little friction and frustration. There’s a learning curve, where mistakes are made. We experience awkward moments while people find their footing. Some questions only surface once we use a new feature in real-time. None of that means the change was the wrong one. Instead, it simply means that people are adjusting, and adjustment takes energy.
This, in particular, has shaped the way I think about leadership. If I want people to come with me, I have to give them context. I have to help them see the purpose behind what we do, and make room for their concerns along the way. When people understand the why, they are far more able to stay open through the discomfort of the how.
For me, modernizing well has become an exercise in pacing. Enthusiasm has its place, and so does urgency, but neither can do the work of trust. Trust is built when people feel heard and prepared. To do this, I try to introduce change with care for the human experience on the other side of it.
I keep returning to this balance – knowing that progress matters, but so do the people who make that progress possible. When I slow down enough to bring people with me, the change has a much better chance of lasting.
Protecting the Human Core
Over the years, I’ve had to become much clearer about what should move quickly, and what deserves slower pacing. That distinction shapes a great deal of how I lead today. I’m usually willing to experiment with technology at a fairly fast pace. New tools can open up capacity, improve visibility, and help the business run more consistently. I want us to stay curious, and remain open to better ways of working.
At the same time, I handle human systems with much more care. The rhythms that support people on a daily basis have a very present impact. I’ve learned that one-on-ones matter, as does coaching. Additionally, building culture practices that help people feel seen and supported matter, for development. These parts of the business influence how people experience their work, how they grow, and how much trust they place in the team around them. I don’t make these changes lightly.
That approach has required a shift in mindset for me – and for the people around me. New technology always comes with some discomfort. There is a learning curve, and people have opinions. Some tools create uncertainty before they create ease, and I can accept that. However, I don’t want speed to chip away at care, or for efficiency to weaken the relationships that hold the business together.
Therefore, when I think about what to change and what to protect, I come back to a simple question: will this help us serve people more thoughtfully, or will it pull us away from the human experience we want to create? This helps me move with more confidence, and to slow down when that’s the wiser choice.
I’ve also found that people are often far more open to change when they can feel what remains balanced around them. A team can learn a new system, and guests can adapt to new processes. However, both need to feel that the heart of the experience is still intact. For me, that is where good leadership lives, where it asks us to keep evolving – while staying faithful to the care people came to us for, in the first place.
What a Smooth Day Really Runs On
When people picture a great day in the salon, they usually picture the visible parts of it: guests who leave happy, services that run on time, warm welcomes at the front desk, and the general feeling that everything flows smoothly. What they don’t always see is how much problem-solving sits underneath that experience.
In a business like ours, something always needs attention. Across multiple locations, those moments come with some regularity. I learned, over time, that a well-run day depends less on everything going perfectly, and more on how quickly and calmly a team can respond when it doesn’t.
That shift changed a great deal for me, as a leader. Early on, I was the person who tried to fix everything myself. I ran from issue to issue, filling every gap I could find. It wasn’t sustainable – and it didn’t create much stability for anyone else, either. What changed the business was building a structure where people knew who to call or what to do next, in order to keep the day moving without waiting for me to personally solve every problem.
When you have the right systems in place, people can make faster decisions, communicate more clearly, and stay focused on the guest in front of them. Tools can help with that. Having the right reporting, visibility into performance, and systems that keep appointments, communication, and daily operations aligned makes a genuine difference.
Over the years, we have seen that through Phorest. Our system gives people better information at the moment they need it, which supports better decisions and a steadier experience all around. For me, that’s what sits behind a smooth day at a salon. It’s not perfection, but it’s trust, clarity, and a team that feels equipped to handle what the day brings. When that works well, guests feel cared for. The team feels capable, and the business keeps its footing, even when the unexpected shows up.
The Ripple Effect of Better Support
As I have grown in leadership, I’ve also come to think about systems in a broader way. Some systems help the day run on time, while others help us organize information. However, the ones that matter most shape how people experience the business. These systems influence how we coach and communicate, how we help each team member create an experience that serves the guest well, while also supporting their own growth.
This is where systems become part of culture, offering direction, context, and support. A strong coaching rhythm helps a team member understand what good work looks like, and why it matters. Clear expectations reduce uncertainty. Consistent feedback builds confidence over time. When those pieces work together, people feel more grounded in their role, and more capable in the moments that matter.
Access to information plays an important part in that, too. Reporting, performance insights, and day-to-day visibility help people make better executive decisions, which has a genuine impact on the guest experience. When the person closest to the guest has the clarity and confidence to act, issues get resolved faster, communication improves, and the experience feels more thoughtful.
I’ve seen how quickly that can build momentum. People tend to make stronger decisions, when they feel equipped to do so – and stronger decisions create a smoother guest experience. This, in turn, strengthens trust, which gives the business room to grow in a healthier way. Over time, that momentum becomes something you can feel across the whole salon.
This, to me, is one of the clearest signs that a system is doing its job well. That momentum creates conditions where people can do their best work with greater confidence and less friction. It also rarely stays contained in one area, carrying outward, and strengthening the whole business.
Leadership Means Having to Unlearn
One of the clearest patterns in my leadership journey has been this: every season of growth asks me to let go of something that once felt useful. Early on, I had to learn how to have honest conversations. I had to stop managing from a distance, and speak more openly – even when the conversation felt uncomfortable. That shift made me realize that when I became more honest and vulnerable, the culture around me had the space to grow stronger.
At that stage, the work was deeply personal. I had to notice where I was trying to hold control too tightly, and where that instinct was keeping people at arm’s length. I began to understand that people respond far better to honesty than to guardedness. Teams don’t need a polished version of leadership. In fact, they prefer clarity, trust, and the sense that they’re dealing with someone willing to be forthright with them.
Now, the lesson looks different. As the business has expanded, I’ve had to loosen my grip in new ways; not stepping in too quickly, trusting other leaders to lead. I’ve had to resist the urge to over-direct, and instead spend more time coaching, supporting, and creating space for other people to grow into their own authority. While that’s been a meaningful shift for me, it hasn’t always been an easy one.
In many ways, I’m learning how to become a mentor to mentors. That asks for a different kind of discipline – one where I have to stay present, without controlling every outcome. It asks that I guide, without over-handling. It asks me to believe that the strength of the business will depend on more people carrying leadership well, and not on me carrying more of it myself.
I’ve come to believe in one central truth of leadership: what serves you well at present, may not be enough for the future. Growth keeps asking for a new version of you. The challenge is not to reject what worked before, but to recognize when it is time to evolve again. Learning that has made me a steadier leader, and I think it has made the business stronger, as well.
Carrying the Business, Carrying the Family
There is a particular kind of responsibility that comes with leading a fourth-generation business. It can be deeply meaningful – but at time, it can feel very heavy. When you grow up in a family that takes care of one another so well, that instinct runs deep. You feel responsible for the people who came before you, the people beside you now, and for the people who may come after you. That sense of duty can be powerful, but it can also ask too much of a person when it goes unexamined.
I have had to learn that responsibility, on its own, does not create sustainability. In fact, it can work in direct opposition to it. When I carry too much, for too long, I lose some of the steadiness that good leadership requires. When I push past my own limits, I also send the wrong message to the people around me about what leadership should feel like. Over time, I have come to see that I cannot care for my family, my team, and the wider business well, if I am not taking care of myself with that same seriousness.
I have also learned that holding things too tightly has consequences beyond my own exhaustion. When I over-identify with being the one responsible, I leave less room for people to grow. This is when leadership opportunities narrow, and the business becomes more dependent on one person than it should ever be. If this is going to last, more people have to be able to step forward, and to shape the future with confidence.
That is why sustainability has become such an integral part of how I work. I don’t mean this in a vague or aspirational sense. I mean it very practically – to build a business that supports the people inside it, for the long-term. I want to create a culture where leadership remains life-giving, and where care extends to the team as fully as it extends to the guest. This does not have to come at the cost of human wellbeing.
For me, that’s part of what it means to honor a legacy well. You preserve something meaningful by strengthening the conditions that allow it to endure. The goal for me – and for Annastasia – is to build something strong enough and generous enough to keep serving people well, for years to come.
A Business Worth Inheriting
My idea of success has changed over the years. Earlier in my career, I probably would have measured it more narrowly. I paid close attention to growth, sales, and the visible signs that the business was moving forward. While those things still matter, what I care about more deeply now is whether the business is growing in a way that people can actually sustain.
That has become a much more human measure of success for me. I think about the quality of leadership we build, and about whether people feel supported as they step into more responsibility. I think about whether the pace of growth leaves room for people to stay well, while they’re connected to their families, and continue to find meaning in their work. If leadership keeps costing people too much, then eventually, the business will pay for it.
I’ve seen what happens when growth puts too much pressure on a team: talented people carry more than they should, and I’ve learned from that. Those experiences have made me far more committed to building something healthier. I want leadership to feel meaningful, not draining as a default. I want people to be challenged in ways that help them grow, while still having something left for the rest of their lives.
That matters even more when I think about the next generation. If younger leaders look at the business and only see stress and constant overextension, they’re not going to want to inherit it – nor should they. People are drawn toward opportunities that feel purposeful and sustainable, opportunities that ask a lot of them, while making it possible to build a good life around the work.
In that way, when I think about the future, I think about creating a business that continues to grow, without consuming the people inside it. This is the kind of business I’d feel proud to pass on; a business with a strong system, healthy leadership, and enough care at its center to help the next generation see the opportunity in it. To me, this is a far more meaningful definition of success.
Annastasia Salons: Built to Endure
When I think about the salons that endure, I find myself returning to the same truth: longevity grows out of the human experience that people create and protect, every day. It lives in the way a guest feels welcomed, how a team feels supported, and when a business stays rooted in care – even as the world around these things keep changing.
That sense of purpose has guided every generation of my family, in one form of another. While the pace of hair and beauty has certainly changed, what has endured is the belief that this work matters because people matter. When a salon keeps that understanding close, it makes better decisions. It holds onto the things that give the business heart.
A healthy business does need profit – to give the company stability, and to allow a team to keep serving people well. Even so, I believe profit works best when it supports the deeper purpose of the business. At Annastasia, that means sustaining the care, the relationships, and the quality of experience that made the business worth building, in the first place.
For me, that’s the difference between survival, and endurance. One makes it through the next year, while the other builds a foundation strong enough to carry people through many years (including the ones no one can yet predict). If we can carry forward the commitment to trust and connection, then I believe that we can continue to grow with integrity. We can adapt to new tools. We can meet the future with curiosity.
And we can thrive in whatever shape that future takes, while still holding onto the part of this work that has always mattered most.
