So, it's official. I have started the process of shutting down my "baby", Second Coats. I haven't put any focus on it for some time & it's no use to drag the inevitable out any longer. So I'm closing the site and retaining the URL in case I decide to use it later for some reason.
It's kind of bittersweet. Bitter in that it was something I created from scratch--it was a concept, a lot of hard work, and then reality--and I hate to see it go. It's sweet in that it served as a tremendous launching pad to get me to where I'm at today with Bark Slope. Do I make mistakes running Bark Slope? Yes. But fortunately most of my big mistakes were done with Second Coats. Had I not started Second Coats, I'd never have even known about Bark Slope. So, I'm grateful for all that it did bring to me and for the knowledge I gained from it all.
Now comes the "fun" process of closing it down from the legal aspect, selling off the inventory I don't want to use for Bark Slope, and getting it all squared away so that I don't have to worry about it anymore. It's weird because I don't feel like I'm necessarily closing a chapter in my life--it's more like turning a page in this case. Bark Slope and Second Coats had so many similarities (the big glaring difference--Bark Slope makes money; Second Coats does not) that the experience of the two of them intertwines mentally and emotionally for me. It's like the chapter starts with just one character, but then the character ends up with a cohort...and then the character dies and the cohort is the only one left and the chapter keeps going without him. (It sounds like such a happy storyline when I put it into an analogy. Perhaps it's best I not do that...)
So, while I will miss the satisfaction of going to Second Coats' site and knowing exactly what it took to get it going, I won't miss the added stress of having both businesses going at the same time. It was with Second Coats that I experienced the wrath of Hurricane Hanna, threw out my back while setting up my weekend booths at the flea market & then had painful physical therapy to get back on track, and that I spent countless hours in the heat and humidity every single Saturday for months on end while running said booth at the flea market. My life became dictated by Second Coats' needs, which was a great introduction so that taking over Bark Slope wasn't such a shock.
It was also with Second Coats that I met so many great people (like the girl who runs a dog rescue in the midst of the endless surgeries to try to repair her shrapnel-torn body that was injured while she was a soldier in Iraq), learned that I could put my dreams on paper and then turn them into reality (as happened when I designed my t-shirt line, which later made it to the shelves of retail stores; there's nothing quite like walking into a store and seeing something you designed sitting on their racks), and that I gained business maturity I never thought I'd have.
So, yes, it's with bittersweet feelings that I close Second Coats--but rather than saying "goodbye" I instead say "thank you".
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