The Accidental Sanctuary:
This wasn’t supposed to be a business. It all started as a place to breathe.
For ten years, I’ve worked in film and TV. It’s a grind—long hours, high stress, and a specific kind of camaraderie that forms in the trenches. But nothing prepared me for the summer of 2025. I was working on Naked and Afraid, embedded deep in the Florida Everglades during a record 9-year long drought.
Our home base was a Hampton Inn in Clewiston, Florida—a town about a mile long, two hours from anything resembling a city. For 55 days, while the crew spent 12 hours a day managing contestants and alligators in the swamp heat, I worked the night shift.
The "Third Place" in the Swamp
When you’re on location in the middle of nowhere, there are no “third places." There’s work, there’s sleep, and... that’s it.
So, I decided to build one.
Since I worked nights, I converted my hotel room into a communal living room for the days. I raided the local Walmart for mood lighting and refreshments. I had a humidifier pumping out Florida Water and incense burning constantly, building a space of intention for us all, with an open door policy.
It became a haven. Crew members would drop by on their days off to decompress. We hosted game nights. I’d do Oracle readings. We’d talk about projects, life, and just exist together without the pressure of the shoot. It started as a necessity—a place to escape the grind—but it became something sacred.
The Sticker Ritual
Then came June. It was Pride month, and I realized there wasn't a single rainbow flag in the entire town. So, I ordered hundreds of Pride stickers.
It became this wonderfully awkwardly queer ritual. Crew members would come by— and their faces would just light up seeing the selection. We’d sit there sifting through them in search of a bit of color that called out to us. We used them on water bottles, equipment cases, and tagged spots around the town.
It was a small thing, but it was a signal: You are safe here.
It’s a tradition I couldn’t let go of. Even now, I hand-pick five stickers for every single online order. It’s my way of passing that moment of “delight and discovery" on to you.
A Hearth, Wherever You Are
When the gig wrapped and we were all packing up to scatter back to our real lives, I sent a message to our group chat:
"Take the energy of this space with you wherever you need a bit of peace. I hope you can make a little piece of this home wherever you are."
That message stuck with me. I realized I didn't want the Lounge to disappear just because we checked out of the hotel. I wanted to make that energy portable.
Why I Built This
I originally wanted to make orgonite—literally capturing the energy in resin—but I realized the scent was the strongest memory anchor we had.
So, I created the elemental incense. Inspired by the alchemy of my personal practice, I hand-dip and Reiki-charge every batch myself, setting the intention to bottle that specific feeling of safety, community, and “exhale" we found in Clewiston. I wanted to give people a way to create their own sanctuary, whether they are in a hotel room, a trailer, or their own home.
And for those moments when you don't know where to look within yourself, I designed The Beacon Oracle. A tool for navigation—to find direction or a quiet affirmation when the world feels a little too loud.
The Lavender Lounge isn't about a specific room anymore. It’s about building a sanctuary wherever you are. It’s funky, it’s a little weird, and it’s deeply personal. But mostly, it’s an invitation to take your shoes off, keep your spirits up, and find a little magic in your own swamp.