I spent years teaching people how to fall.

That’s most of what ski instructing is. You stand on a cold slope at eight in the morning and tell someone it’s fine to go down, as long as they get back up. I grew up under the Tetons. I loved that job more than anything I’ve ever done.

It didn’t pay. Not enough to live on, not in Jackson Hole.

My parents were the ones who said it out loud first. Open the shop. The one you keep describing every time we drive past an empty storefront. I was too scared to say it myself. They weren’t.

That was five years ago.

Since then the door has opened for skiers who came in to warm their hands and stayed an hour. For regulars I now know by name, and by size. For strangers passing through who told me their whole life over one cup of coffee.

Every one of them trusted me with how they wanted to feel walking back out into the cold. I’ve never taken that lightly. Not one day.

So this is me saying thank you. For five years, everything in the shop is 60% off.

Every piece here I made myself, by hand. No two exactly the same. Each one made with an actual woman in mind. Not what looks good on a hanger. What you can pull on before the lifts open and forget about until dinner.

Take your time. Look for the thing that makes you stop.

Nancy Susan
Jackson Hole, Wyoming