Finding the Thread

Since launching Pleasant Shimo, we’ve been quietly but steadily working behind the scenes. The Dragon Boat Festival in Vancouver was our first major public debut. We had a great reception, and it felt like we were onto something. But as any founder knows, excitement is only the beginning. After that, the real work starts.

What followed was the slog. The quiet hours no one sees. The emails, the pitches, the rejections, and the silence. It’s been about patience. About putting yourself out there over and over again. Sending out media kits. Following up. Trying to get into more shows. Reaching out to companies and institutions that might align. At this early stage, it’s really just about getting traction anywhere you can.

It’s also about resourcefulness. I’ve leaned on my journalism background constantly. Back then, my job was to find people, pitch ideas, and get the interview. The clock was always ticking. Minutes mattered. That mindset has carried over. These days, I’m pitching stories again. Except now it’s not for airtime,  it’s for Christmas gift guides. In August.

I wear every hat in the business. Founder, curator, packager, marketer. I’m the one adjusting sticker sizes to make sure they fit right on a package. I’m choosing paper colours for wrapping. I’m shipping test kits to prospective customers. And when something’s not quite right, I’m the one fixing it.

After the Dragon Boat Festival, I quickly signed Pleasant Shimo up for the Vancouver Home Show. It was hosted by Got Craft, the same group that ran the Dragon Boat market. This one was inside the Vancouver Convention Centre — the same place I’d spent years as a journalist interviewing TED speakers, politicians, and newsmakers.

I prepped for weeks. I chose to display Stanley Park, Granville Island, and Chinatown in large  glass frames. Got better easels. Ordered fresh prints. My cousin Sam took a day to help set up.We had a few days to set up this time, not just a few hours. Our booth ended up in a prime spot — right at the end of the main aisle, across from the bakery crowd magnet, BAK’D.

It looked promising. Good traffic, curious faces. But after the first day, it became clear the audience wasn’t right. The crowd skewed older. People were more into free samples and kitchen upgrades than prints of Japanese and Vancouver neighbourhoods. We had some great conversations, traded a few business cards, even had a returning customer drop by to share how much they loved their print. But sales were slow.

Was it disappointing? Yes. But it wasn’t a failure.

I learned a lot about who our customers are and — maybe more importantly — who they aren’t. I learned that not every show is going to be a perfect fit, and that’s okay. What matters is what you take from it.

And here’s the thing — one of those business cards I picked up, I followed up. At the time, it felt like just another polite exchange. But that small action has opened the door to what may become Pleasant Shimo’s most significant opportunity yet.

It’s a reminder of why I started Pleasant Shimo in the first place. You don’t always know where an idea will lead or what shape it’ll take. But you follow the thread. You stay curious. You show up, again and again, without guarantees.

Pleasant Shimo was never about playing it safe. It was about creating something that felt honest, something that could connect people. And slowly, it’s doing exactly that.

Stay tuned.