Building Bibka Taught Me This

Building Bibka didn’t teach me how to be patient overnight. It taught me patience slowly, quietly, and sometimes painfully.

There were days when everything felt aligned — ideas flowing, collections coming alive, customers choosing pieces with love. And then there were days when nothing moved. Days when self-doubt crept in, when growth felt invisible, when I questioned if the silence meant failure. Bibka taught me that both days are part of the same journey. That patience isn’t about staying calm only when things are good — it’s about staying steady when things are not. To not let success inflate you, and not let disappointment shrink you.

Some of the hardest moments came during pop-ups that didn’t go as planned. Behind every collection are months of design, sampling, back-and-forths, mistakes, fixes, and an unbelievable amount of emotional and physical energy. You walk into a pop-up hopeful, proud, excited — and sometimes you’re met with low footfall, the wrong audience, or comparisons to mass-produced, low-quality alternatives. Those moments can shake you deeply. They made me question my choices, my pace, my vision. But they also taught me something invaluable: confidence doesn’t come from constant validation. It comes from standing by your work even when it’s misunderstood.

And then there were the good days. Not always crowded days — but meaningful ones. Days when ten or fifteen people walked in and connected so deeply that they bought multiple pieces. Customers who returned again and again. People who chose Bibka not just for themselves, but to gift someone they loved. Those moments quietly rebuilt my trust in my own decisions. They reminded me that depth matters more than numbers.

Working so closely with the process changed my understanding of quality forever. I always valued good craftsmanship, but building Bibka showed me how much truly goes into a single piece. From design to sampling, from workshops to finishing, from marketing to storytelling — every piece carries the effort of many hands and many hearts. When someone owns a Bibka piece, they’re not just buying jewellery. They’re carrying a story, a process, and the hard work of everyone involved.

Listening became one of the biggest lessons. Sometimes what you think will be a bestseller isn’t — and something unexpected becomes loved. Colours you hesitated to introduce find their people. Customers show you new ways to wear a piece, ask for different sizes, or suggest tweaks that transform a design entirely. Growth often comes from being open, not rigid. At the same time, I learned to listen deeply to myself. If something feels confusing or uncertain — a collaboration, a hire, a design, a pop-up — that discomfort is information. Your instincts speak before logic catches up. Trusting that inner voice has saved me more times than I can count.

Over time, my definition of success changed. It stopped being about reach, visibility, or numbers alone. Success became a series of small, meaningful wins — a production run done right, the right team member joining, a collection that feels true, being present at the right show, learning something new about myself along the way. For someone naturally impatient, learning to slow down, to honour the process, and to grow with intention has been the biggest achievement of all.

Some values became non-negotiable in the process. Sustainability. Integrity. Honesty. We will not compromise on quality. We will not cut corners to reduce costs. We will not harm the earth to increase profit. And we will always be honest with our customers — about our materials, our processes, and what we truly offer. Trust, once broken, cannot be designed back.

Building Bibka didn’t just build a brand. It reshaped me. It taught me patience when I wanted speed, depth when I wanted scale, and purpose when shortcuts were available. And that, more than anything else, is what I carry forward.