When I bought my little 1955 fixer-upper in Florida, I had absolutely no plan to turn it into a brand.
I was just trying to turn it into a house.
Preferably one where the electrical worked, the projects eventually got finished, and I didn't have to make three trips to the hardware store every time I attempted to fix something.
If you read my first article, you know Honey’s Old House started during a pretty major reset in my life. I had gotten divorced, sold the home I had lived in, moved closer to the coast, and bought a house that needed… well, pretty much everything.
The house was old. A lot of it was original. And I had spent nine years in a relationship without really learning how to fix much around a house myself.
So I decided that was going to change.
I Started Filming Because I Thought It Was Funny
There wasn't some big content strategy behind Honey’s Old House in the beginning.
I wasn't sitting at my kitchen table with a business plan thinking, I'm going to build a home-renovation brand.
I was learning how to do projects, making mistakes, figuring things out as I went, and filming some of it because I thought it was funny.
And honestly, sometimes the things that went wrong were a lot more entertaining than the things that went right.
I wasn't a contractor.
I wasn't pretending to be an expert.
I was just a woman with an old house, a set of tools, YouTube tutorials, friends I could call when I got completely stuck, and enough confidence to think, How hard could this possibly be?
As it turns out, pretty hard sometimes.
But that became part of the fun.
Then the Videos Started Looking a Little Different
As I kept posting, I started playing around with the way I edited my renovation videos.
I'd be working on something around the house in my normal outfit—using tools, painting, installing something, whatever project I had gotten myself into that day.
Then, for literally a split second, the video would flash to me standing in the exact same spot in my panties.
And immediately...
Back to the work outfit.
Like nothing happened.
It was quick, unexpected and completely ridiculous—which was exactly why I thought it was funny.
Eventually, people started expecting it.
They'd watch a renovation video knowing that somewhere in the middle there might be that blink-and-you-missed-it Honey moment.
It became a little running joke in my content and, without me really realizing it at the time, one of the things that made my videos recognizable.
The house projects were real.
The mistakes were definitely real.
But I also wasn't interested in making another perfectly polished DIY account where everything looked serious and staged.
Apparently, neither was my wardrobe.
People Weren't Just Following the Renovation
At first, I assumed people were watching because they wanted to see the house.
Then I started realizing something.
They weren't only interested in the finished project.
They wanted to see everything that happened before the finished project.
The mistakes.
The frustration.
The trips back to the store because I bought the wrong part.
The moments where I clearly had no idea what I was doing.
And, every once in a while, the moment when I stepped back and realized:
Wait. I actually did that.
That's when Honey’s Old House started becoming something bigger than a renovation account.
People were following the story.
The House Became the Backdrop to Something Bigger
Over time, the projects got bigger.
What started with learning basic home repairs turned into renovating rooms, changing the exterior, tackling major projects, and slowly transforming a house that had barely changed since the 1950s.
But while I was rebuilding the house, I was also building something I never expected.
A brand.
Honey’s Old House became a place where home renovation didn't have to look perfect.
You could mess something up.
You could laugh at yourself.
You could have absolutely no clue what you're doing at first and still figure it out.
And you definitely didn't need a perfectly staged house and a spotless white outfit while doing it.
Because that has never been what this house—or this brand—is about.
It's about figuring things out.
Somewhere Along the Way, This Became My Job
This might be the strangest part for me to look back on.
I have a background in multimedia, graphic design, marketing, branding and social media. So technically, I've spent a lot of my career helping build brands.
I just never expected my house to become one.
Eventually, Honey’s Old House stopped being something I simply posted about and started becoming a real business.
Suddenly I wasn't just renovating a house.
I was creating videos, taking photos, building an audience, designing websites, creating merchandise and figuring out how to turn something I genuinely enjoyed into something sustainable.
And somehow, the old house I bought during one of the biggest transitions of my life became the center of all of it.
That's still a little crazy to me.
The House Isn't Finished—and That's Kind of the Point
If you're waiting for the part where I tell you the renovation is finally finished and everything is perfect...
You're going to be waiting awhile.
There is always another project.
Another idea.
Another thing I decide needs to be changed immediately after telling myself I'm definitely taking a break from renovations.
But I think that's why Honey’s Old House still feels like Honey’s Old House.
You're not looking at a finished house.
You're watching it become one.
And you're watching me figure things out right along with it.
I bought this house thinking I was starting a renovation.
I had no idea I was starting a brand.
And I'm definitely not done yet.