It started with a typo.

Somewhere along the way, an "r" went missing.

Wildbrush Collective — my actual company, the one with the leadership coaching and the credentials and the clients who take me seriously — kept getting typed as Wildbush. In emails. In texts. Once, memorably, on something official. And every time it happened, the same thing occurred to me and to everyone who saw it: that is a much funnier name.

So I did what any reasonable business owner would do. Made a fake landscaping logo. "Wildbush Landscaping" — the kind of thing you'd see on the side of a truck — and I sent it to the family group chat, straight-faced, like it was a real second venture.

My nephew Jackson left the group chat.

He came back. Eventually. (He wants a hat now. He is not getting one for free.) But for a glorious stretch of hours, the joke had claimed a casualty, and I knew we had something.

Then the retreat happened. A room full of women, the kind who've done the work and can still laugh at themselves, heard the story — and named themselves after it before I could say a word. They were Wildbush Women now. It wasn't up to me anymore. That's usually how you know a thing is real: it stops asking your permission.

The hats came next, because of course they did. Friends started asking. James wanted two. (He earned them. He got married on May 1, which is a great day for a lot of reasons.) The design is a watercolor botanical on the front — soft, genuinely pretty, the kind of thing you'd wear without a second thought. Then you turn it around, and the back panel says …and blowouts.

And then I told my coach.

She said, without missing a beat, that she would absolutely go to Waxing Wild Bushes. Then she laughed and said the thing I haven't been able to stop thinking about since: that this is exactly what sells — because we are all, at our core, a little unhinged. And we're tired of pretending otherwise.

She's a good coach.

So here's where it landed. Wildbush Women is a real thing now. A small thing — a side character to the professional brand, not a second career. But real. Hats. A story that deserved to live somewhere public. And, I suspect, a gathering or two for women who are, as the tagline goes, figuring out who the f*ck we are.

Hot and unbothered. Wildly becoming. Together.

If you've followed Wildbrush Collective and wondered what I'm like when I'm not being professional — hi. This is also me.