by Chip Gaines
Jo and I both have strong instincts and enjoy the process of due diligence, but if we specifically feel like God has initiated something, we do not hesitate.
Sitting there at the kitchen table, pen and paper in hand, Jo and I spent the night and well into the wee hours of the morning strategizing how to announce the shop’s closing and sell through the inventory. We also brainstormed ways to make up for the income loss we were guaranteed to experience. Jo threw out the idea of reviving something she had done a couple of times before—hosting one-day sales in our home. Jo would stock up on unique furniture pieces and home decor items and literally set up shop in every room of our house. These home sales had been so successful that every last piece typically disappeared by noon. Jo suggested doing four of these a year, and that really started to seem like a workable option.
We eventually headed to bed a couple of hours before Drake got up, feeling nervous and expectant for this new season we were about to enter into. I wanted to be just as supportive of Jo closing the shop as I had been of her opening it back in 2003. And I really was genuinely happy for her. Joanna’s dream had been to build Magnolia Market into something she was proud of, and she had exceeded those expectations. Now, three years later, she had a new dream, one she cared about so passionately that she was willing to let go of her beloved retail store. She yearned to be home with those babies.
Sometimes the quiet decisions—the ones reached at two in the morning at the kitchen table—are the ones you look back on with the most fondness. That momentous night with Jojo set off a chain reaction of events that quite literally led us to where we are today. And it all happened because Jo said yes to that feeling in her gut, that quiet voice telling her it was time for a new dream. I had never been more proud of her. She and I both knew she was taking a God-sized risk, but she wasn’t afraid.
Within two months Joanna had sold all of her inventory, settled the books, and let her vendors know she was closing up shop. The two days that stand out the most to Jo from the Little Shop were the first day she opened (she was a nervous wreck) and the day she closed the doors for the last time. No matter how difficult it was to walk away that afternoon, Joanna knew it was the right thing for us. She took a deep breath, turned the key, and walked away from that little shop on the corner, filled with nothing but peace about her decision to say good-bye.
Throughout the following year, I could tell Jo loved being at home, focusing on our children. It seemed like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. It was a great year, an amazing year, and I think Jo must have subconsciously willed Pinterest into existence that year with the sheer force of her creativity. This was the time when she really learned to cook, clean, garden, scrapbook, craft, and do all the inventive stuff she now loves. I knew the kids loved having her home around the clock, but sometimes I considered using my body as a human shield to protect those young lives from their mom’s endless creativity and energy and her capacity to do a million small projects all at once.
To give you an idea of what I mean, today Joanna Stevens Gaines is the cohost of a top national reality television show, on which she personally designs up to eighteen custom homes a season. In her off time, she manages every last detail of a retail and design empire while lovingly feeding and clothing and caring for four children under twelve—and keeping up with me. And this is the same woman who focused all of that creative talent and energy into staying home with our two small children. No wonder she got a bit restless!
Both Joanna and I agree that there’s not a more noble calling than staying home with your kids. But this woman had far too much energy for this to be our long-term plan. Our poor children. She plumb wore those young’uns out! By year two, Joanna was jumping in on my building projects just to keep from bedazzling the kids.
Then, just like that, Joanna was pregnant again with our third baby—our second boy, Duke. I specifically remember during that pregnancy how much she missed having her own true creative outlet. She started asking me to bring home more and more construction plans, and she would sit at the dining room table during the kids’ nap time and work on the design, the layout, and the functionality of these spaces. She had a real gift for imagining herself in these people’s homes (not in a creepy way). She would pretend it was her own bathroom, kitchen, or living room, and that made her see and notice things I never would’ve considered.
She would come up with these quirky ideas that at the time I honestly thought sounded pretty dumb. What do you mean we’re going to tear off the drywall and leave these old planks exposed? Ship-what? And you think painting this old mantel and then fastening it to the wall will make it feel like a fireplace? That’s not going to feel cozy; it’s going to look bad, and then we’ll be left with huge holes in that wall. And you want to install an antique door to a pantry? The homeowners are going to hate that!
But they didn’t. In fact, they loved it. Because Jo had spent the last few years as the owner of a home-decor shop, and because she’d spent countless hours studying her customers’ spaces at their request, she had become an expert at finding unique ways to fill homes with meaning instead of just stuff. She actually knew what she was doing, and people were eating it up. Joanna put herself in the middle of the process and made herself an invaluable member of the construction team—a much-needed addition to our crew of clueless men who had zero background and little sense about all that interior-design stuff.
And so Joanna Gaines, Designer, was born, but not in some fancy design school or as the underpaid intern of some high-priced interior decorator. She’d been born with the eye for it. She’d worked at it and practiced and fine-tuned her natural ability. And eventually she became this unstoppable, incredibly gifted, and highly skilled design mogul.
As we started preparing for baby Duke’s arrival in 2008, we also began feeling the effect of the national housing crisis. The homes we had bought to flip were now sitting on the market months longer than expected. When they didn’t sell, we were forced to rent them out or even owner finance—anything to cover the banknote. I realized that if we didn’t reinvent ourselves, we weren’t going to make it. And for me the latter wasn’t an option.
I realized quickly that we needed to diversify. So we jumped into residential and commercial remodeling. Before, we’d built a reputation on flip homes, investment properties, and a handful of new builds, but this was a different world. In the risky financial climate, people were choosing to take whatever money they would have put as a down payment for a new house and spend it on their existing homes. For the time being, people were sticking with what they had and improving their current living situations. That meant updating kitchens and baths, taking down walls to create larger rooms—all kinds of projects to make what people already owned work better for them.
The remodeling business wasn’t exactly the answer to our prayers from a financial standpoint. Things were still tight. But Jo trusted me, and she knew that no matter what, we were going to figure it out. I’ve always been wily, and I love a good challenge, so I wasn’t wasting much time standing around and shaking in my boots. I was all about forward motion.
Joanna’s thirtieth birthday was coming up, and I’d told her in the past that since she had done such a good job surprising me for my thirtieth, I would find a way to beat her with an even bigger surprise. The only problem at this point was that we didn’t have much expendable income at the time. That was not going to stop me, of course, but it was definitely a hurdle. So one Saturday afternoon I picked up the phone and started calling around town to see if anyone had ideas.
My first call was to the owners of our local magazine, The Wacoan. I wanted to know how much it would cost to take out a “Happy Birthday” ad in their next month’s issue. The answer was $695. Even with just about no extra cash floating around, that price seemed like a bargain to pull off surprising Jo. It was the ultimate way to wish Jo a happy birthday in style. But while I had them on the phone, it hit me that every month The Wacoan published a “Who�
�s Who” column, which was pretty much just an “events of that month” recap. So, being quick on my feet, I promptly invited the magazine to cover Jo’s big thirtieth birthday bash.
“Wait,” they asked, “who is this again?” But I skipped right over that question and redirected them onto something that was sure to make them bite. I let them know that there was going to be a full-on red carpet with all kinds of prominent Wacoans in attendance. They bought it.
The only problem was . . . I didn’t know any prominent Wacoans. But that little detail didn’t faze me. Now that I had the magazine on board, my plan had grown from a “Happy Thirtieth Birthday, Jo!” ad in the magazine to a full-fledged surprise party.
I was still going to do the ad, but I now intended to use it as a bartering chip with all of the vendors I was going to have help me put this thing together. My impromptu plan was to use the ad to give a big shout-out to everyone who donated their services for the event. I convinced these vendors that the publicity would be way more valuable to them than their typical fee would be. The exposure they’d get at such a noteworthy event would be well worth their bartering cost.
Jo tracked down the actual ad. Here it is.
With this logic I managed to secure a location and hire a photographer, a live band, a full coffee bar, a caterer, a florist, and—oh, wait, did I mention I somehow got the mayor there too? I called her office a week before the event and explained to her assistant that this was going to be the party of the year. I also mentioned that all of the “who’s who” of Waco were going to be there. I knew, of course, that my “who’s who” list probably looked a little different from hers. But it wasn’t as if anybody was asking for the guest list, so I just kept my cards close to my chest on that one.
On the evening of the surprise party, Jo thought she was going to a small garden party with close friends. I was happy to let her think that. I hadn’t managed to actually surprise her with anything since our engagement, so I was due.
Then the limo driver arrived, and Jo’s surprise started to unfold.
When we reached the venue, you would have thought we were the most notable couple in Waco, Texas. The red carpet rolled out, and photographers snapped pictures. It was the closest thing this town had ever seen to paparazzi. Inside there were twinkling lights everywhere, and the band was playing Frank Sinatra. There were gorgeous floral arrangements on every table and silver trays full of fancy food at every turn.
Somehow I was able to pull off the surprise of a lifetime on that $695 budget, and I swear it was a nicer party than our wedding reception. Being all but broke wasn’t going to stop me from making Jo feel like the most important woman in the world that night.
Even to this day, we look back at pictures and can’t believe that I pulled off that kind of party. It very well could have been the last of our money, and I wouldn’t have cared a bit. She was worth it. In those days, broke or not, we somehow always seemed to find a way to celebrate the milestones.
The two of us at the big surprise party. (Joanna thought she was going to a quaint garden party with a small handful of friends.)
After the first few kids, I started to feel as though all I had to do was look at Jo and she’d get pregnant. When she conceived Emmie, our very last baby, I’m pretty sure I just winked in her general direction. Baby number four was born in 2010, and that little girl brought us more joy and fullness than we ever could have anticipated. It seemed that our adventurous and brave Emmie Kay was the final puzzle piece to complete our family of six.
During this time in our lives, with four kids under six, Joanna and I kept doing mostly commercial and residential renovations, with a side of flip and rent houses. It was a trying and exhausting season, but one that strengthened our patience and our prayers and taught us how to dream even bigger. And finally, after much hard work, things started to turn around. In fact, it was during that time that the TV show was born. We filmed the Fixer Upper pilot in 2013 and the first episode aired in early 2014.
Right about that time, Jo and I took a break and went to Arizona for a couple of days. I dropped her off at a little nursery adjacent to a park so she could look around, get inspired, and maybe take a load off while I ran a few errands. When I came to pick her up an hour or so later, Jo was already waiting out in the gravel parking lot for me.
If I know anything about Joanna Gaines, it’s that something’s not quite right if she’s able to leave a plant store with not one single piece of greenery. So I swung the door of my truck open, confused by the lack of shrubbery in her hands, and pretty much instantly recognized an all-too-familiar look on Jo’s face.
“Chip, I’ve got something to tell you,” she said.
Baby number five?
Nope.
“I think it’s time to reopen the shop.”
In the single hour that I’d left her there in the nursery, she’d heard that familiar voice quietly urging her again. As we sat in the car and Jo sketched out an action plan for reopening, I remembered back to that night when she’d told me it was time to close the shop. Now here she was, more excited than ever, and 100 percent sure that this had been God’s plan since the very beginning.
About three months later, Magnolia Market reopened in that very same building it had originally called home. How’s that for full circle?
I’ve spent a lot of my time thinking about life and thinking about business, and I’ve noticed that in both, sometimes it feels like you have to take steps backward in order to make large leaps forward. That was certainly true in the season that started with Joanna’s decision to close her shop. We made the choice to love each other through one of the most challenging moments in our relationship and our work. While I tackled the business side of things, Joanna singlehandedly ran our household from a place of love and patience and a willingness to go above and beyond for our family. She added an element to our construction team that gave Magnolia Homes an edge over every other construction company in town. We weathered an economic downturn by changing our business focus from flipping houses to personalized home renovations, and we persevered until it started working. Our family grew from two to four kiddos. We closed and then reopened Magnolia Market. We both turned thirty, and we did it in style. And oh, yes—we got ready to go on TV!
There isn’t a business plan out there that can predict all of life’s uncertainties or the ups and downs of unknown economies. But what we learned in this eight-year “in-between” season was how to trust our gut(s) and when to go with our instincts. We recognized fear, adversity, challenge, hesitation, loss, and chaos as the hurdles that they are. These things were tough, but they weren’t impossible. We cleared some of them with ease, and with others we fell hard on our faces but kept on going.
Nobody remembers if you cross the finish line bruised and bloody. They just remember that you stayed the course. Don’t get hung up on how ugly the race may have looked. In the end, all that matters is that you finish.
CHAPTER 8
GROWING PAINS
I can’t say for sure what Magnolia looks like from the perspective of someone on the outside, because it’s my life’s work. I am inundated with it day in and day out. But this multifaceted business was our first baby. In the early years it needed to be cared for, protected, and nurtured. It really did require every ounce of energy from us.
I realize that not everyone who reads this book owns a business, but I’m sure many of you have either had or been around small children. You understand the amount of attention they need, especially early on. Honestly, starting a business is not that much different. Magnolia has grown from a tiny start-up, the smallest of small businesses, to a midsized small business. Someday I believe it will be great, with far-reaching effects and influence. But for now it’s more like a young ballplayer with tons and tons of potential but a long way to go to be considered one of the best.
When several hundred employees depend on your company to succeed in order to put food on their tables, that’s something that bears a wh
ole lot of weight; it’s an extreme amount of pressure. But to Jo and me it’s also an honor and a privilege. We love it and the people who work with us, and we consider it our responsibility to pour every last drop of our heart and soul into this business.
But maybe I should back up here . . .
In 2014, after Jo made the decision to reopen Magnolia Market, she really didn’t know if it would sink or soar. Those are the details we spent hours worrying about. But her motivation for opening her shop in the first place wasn’t to make it succeed. We realized early on that every minute spent worrying about that was a minute wasted. This was her hard-earned moment to do the thing that she had been passionate about since her homesick days in New York, and I wanted to help her any way I could. But it took a bit of juggling to get everything in place.
As I’ve said, we made the decision to reopen the Market in that same building on Bosque Boulevard, which we still owned. We had tried to sell it, but all the deals fell through, so we had used it as an office for Magnolia Homes. Our design people and project managers were still working there in 2014, but we had to make room for Jo to do her thing in the front space of the building. So we moved the designers and managers into the offices in the back half of that building.
A sketch of the Little Shop on Bosque, our first Magnolia Market. It didn’t take long for us to be bursting at the seams.
Now, by “back half” I am talking about a few hundred square feet. This space was more of an oversized closet or storage room than an office. It had no windows and therefore no natural light. But these early employees, these precious souls, didn’t bat an eye. They didn’t complain once. One of the real reasons we are here today, one of the reasons we made it through so many tough times, is because those early team members were all-in.