My Unexpected Waitlist: What I’ve Learned Customizing Sneakers, One Brushstroke at a Time
It started with a paintbrush and a little fear.
About four months ago, right after our family welcomed our mischievously lovable Frenchie puppy, Mimi, I dipped my brush into a palette of pastels and bolds and painted my first pair of Nike Jordan 1 Mids. I had no clue what I was doing. I was nervous—terrified, really. What if I messed up? What if they didn’t turn out the way I imagined? But something magical happened in that uncertainty: I started anyway.
And I haven’t stopped since.
Now, after five custom pairs and a lot of unexpected interest, I’m officially on a waitlist… which, to be honest, I never saw coming.
So today, I want to share the journey that led me here—pair by pair, lesson by lesson.
Month 1: Hawaiian Vibes & First Wins 🌺
Jordan 1 Mids – Hawaiian Theme
Inspired by the warmth of the islands and the lush, free-spirited aesthetic of Hawaiian culture, this first pair was all about learning to blend—literally and figuratively. I practiced smooth color transitions, delicate floral details, and layering meaning into every brushstroke. Then I had the joy of gifting them to a dear friend while we celebrated her birthday in Hawaii. That experience gave the artwork soul and taught me something vital: creativity isn’t just a skill—it’s a love language.
Month 2: A Gift for My Son 💙
Jordan 1 Mids – Made With Love for My 8-Year-Old
This was more than a pair of sneakers. It was a shared project with my son—brainstorming color combos and themes (his tip: “Make sure it glows, Mom!”). He beamed when he wore them for the first time… and then, of course, outgrew them in record time. The shoes became keepsakes, but the real treasure was how much he felt seen and involved in the process. It reminded me why I create: to connect, celebrate, and honor the present moment—even if it's fleeting.
Month 3: For the Swifties 🎤✨
Nike Air Force 1s – Taylor Swift-Inspired
I wanted to tell a story in shimmer and shade—music notes, glittered tones, and soft pastels. This pair became a tribute not just to Taylor, but to the idea of transformation and reinvention. Each detail was crafted to resonate emotionally, and this pair quickly became one of the most commented-on pieces I’ve shared. Turns out, art that’s personal is also powerfully universal.
Month 4: A Love Letter to the Cubs ⚾
Jordan 1 Mids – Chicago Cubs Edition
As someone not exactly fluent in sports lingo, this project stretched me the most. I dove into the world of baseball—its textures, colors, traditions. Designing around the Cubs’ iconic blue-and-red, incorporating hot dog elements (yes, really), and honoring the spirit of Wrigley was a challenge and a joy. This pair reminded me how art can bridge cultures, even ones that feel unfamiliar at first.
Bonus Pair: Shhh… Coming Soon! 👀
Let’s just say the fifth pair is a culmination of everything I’ve learned—storytelling, technique, boldness, and flow. I’ll reveal it soon, and I think it’s my favorite yet.
What This Journey Has Taught Me
Each custom sneaker became a milestone in my creative growth, but more than that—it taught me lessons that ripple far beyond the canvas:
✔ Starting is the hardest part. That inner critic gets loud. Do it anyway.
✔ Mistakes are just part of the masterpiece. Every “oops” taught me something new.
✔ Creativity blooms in community. From my son’s input to messages from followers, your stories fuel mine.
✔ Joy lives in the details. And when you create with intention, people feel it.
If you’ve been holding back on starting that creative dream—painting, writing, designing, launching—this is your sign. Begin before you feel ready. The waitlist for your work might surprise you too.
✨ Now I’d love to hear from you: What’s one creative challenge you’ve been avoiding—but secretly want to try? Hit reply or DM me. Let’s cheer each other on.
What This Journey Has Taught Me (So Far)
Creative growth doesn’t happen in straight lines or neat checklists—it happens in the pauses, the pivots, and sometimes in the paint spills. Every custom sneaker taught me something different, not just about technique, but about life. Here’s what’s really stood out:
✔ Starting is the hardest part—but also the most sacred.
That first brushstroke? It almost didn’t happen. I stared at the blank sneakers for hours, paralyzed by the fear of messing up something expensive and precious. But here’s the truth I had to embrace: Perfection is a myth. Presence is the goal.
Whether it's shoes, a canvas, or an entirely new creative path, you can't think your way into bravery. You have to move. The act of beginning is a radical act of self-trust.
✔ Mistakes aren’t setbacks—they’re stepping stones.
I’ve smudged lines. I’ve chosen the wrong color. I’ve had to completely repaint panels. But every time something didn’t go to plan, I found a better rhythm or unexpected beauty in the fix.
Mistakes have a way of whispering: Try it differently. They are invitations to explore, not signals to stop. Growth doesn’t happen in the highlight reel—it happens in the middle of “this didn’t turn out how I thought, and I kept going anyway.”
✔ Creativity thrives in community.
The feedback, the shared joy, the unexpected interest—none of it happened in isolation. From my son giving color critiques to a friend wearing her pair in Hawaii, to strangers on Instagram DMing me with design ideas, connection has been the fuel.
It reminded me that we don’t create just for ourselves. We create to share, to offer a piece of ourselves to others, and to say, “You too? I thought I was the only one.” Art is how we remember we’re not alone.
✔ Joy lives in the details.
Tiny things matter—the curve of a leaf, the shimmer of a finish, the story embedded in a stitch. These aren’t just aesthetic choices; they are love notes written in color and form.
Paying attention to detail became a form of meditation for me. A way to slow down and honor the process rather than rush to the product. In that quiet noticing, I found not just creative satisfaction, but emotional clarity.
✔ Heritage, presence, and play can co-exist.
Each pair became a bridge—between past and present, style and story, precision and freedom. It brought together all the things I value: honoring culture, embracing the now, and staying open to the joy of discovery.
It’s easy to think we need to choose between “serious” art and playful creativity. But I’ve learned that when we allow ourselves to blend both, the work becomes more alive.
✔ Capacity is a boundary, not a failure.
Saying "I'm at capacity" used to feel like a cop-out. But it's actually a commitment—to quality, to wellness, to protecting the sacred nature of my creative work.
I didn’t expect to be on a waitlist, but I’m learning to hold space for things to evolve at a pace that aligns with ease and integrity. Because creativity isn’t just about output—it’s about how we show up in the making.
These lessons aren't just for artists or sneaker customizers. They're for anyone navigating a creative path, building something from the heart, or simply trying to bring more intention and beauty into their everyday life.
