I’ve always put my work first. I was an ambitious designer with a hunger to explore the world. But I didn’t grow up with entrepreneurial role models. In my family, you got a job, worked hard, and were grateful. So, when I started my own brand, I approached it with the mindset of a worker, not a founder.

I couldn’t understand why – after pouring in all my energy – the money coming in was still so little.

NinefootStudio started from my bedroom in Bali. I had a desk, a laptop, and no clue what I was doing. I’d just left corporate fashion and was trying to figure out how to start from scratch. It was 2016. The term digital nomad had just started making the rounds. Through Bali’s early coworking spaces, I found a bit of community – and the courage to keep going.

My name is Lucia, and this is my story

I’m a multidisciplinary designer. Over the years – and especially with NinefootStudio – I’ve worn every hat you can imagine, like many founders do.

I studied two years of Economics in Spain before switching to Fashion Design and later specialising in footwear. I dreamed of working for big names – and I did. I spent four intense years at Zara, where I learned to design under pressure, multitask like a machine, and hit impossible deadlines. That job gave me a tight-knit creative network, many of whom still work at top fashion houses.

But I took a different path.

Eventually, I landed in Los Angeles. It was my first high-paid role. Coming from Spain, where salaries were low, I hustled hard. I took freelance gigs and ended up designing for two brands – one of them celebrity-driven. At one point, I looked around and thought: I’ve made it. I’m living the American dream.

But the truth? I was a workaholic in a culture that glorifies burnout. I was constantly flying between LA and China, asking for longer hours, never satisfied, always chasing more.

Until I burned out. Really, really hard.

Boards, burnout, and a one-way ticket

Around that time, I saw an old coworker on Instagram. She was traveling through Asia, learning to surf. That image stuck with me. I knew I needed a reset. So, I packed up my life into storage, bought a one-way ticket, and flew to Southeast Asia. No plan. No contacts. Just a “f*ck it, let’s see what happens” kind of energy.

And everything changed.

Solo travel takes guts, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. Bali gave me space to breathe, heal, and reconnect with myself. I started freelancing again and built my first brand – handmade shoes – while juggling client work. But I burned out again. That’s when it hit me: being a great designer isn’t enough. Running a business requires a completely different skill set – and more emotional resilience than I ever imagined.

The (very) unsexy truth about starting up

The first five years were brutal. I did it all alone. I tried to learn every skill needed to run a brand. I overworked. I got depressed. I lived with the constant fear of failing – of having to call my parents and say, I’m coming home.

I almost quit – more than once. It just didn’t make sense: I had the kind of career people envied, yet I was working nonstop and still barely covering my bills.

But it wasn’t nothing. I was transforming. Slowly. Painfully. But changing.

Entrepreneurship is not a trend. It’s a full transformation. Like a snake shedding its skin – it’s uncomfortable, messy, and necessary.

Only people who’ve walked this path truly understand the loneliness and doubt that comes with it. But if you stick with it, something incredible happens.

Redefining success on my own terms

Today, NinefootStudio is no longer just me. We’re a team of 15. We’ve grown – not in some flashy, unicorn-startup way – but in a sustainable, intentional way.

We make premium surf and swimwear, sustainably produced from our own studio in Bali. I’ve fully pivoted into a space that merges my design background with the island lifestyle I’ve fallen in love with. Surfing. Movement. Slow fashion. Community.

We control every step of the process – from concept to production – and focus on small batches, local manufacturing, and mindful design. It’s far from easy. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve gone months without paying myself. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Because for years, I kept comparing my new entrepreneurial path to the success I once had as a designer – especially when it came to money. I couldn’t help it. I was constantly measuring myself against the old version of me.

It took time, but I finally understood. Success isn’t just about numbers. And it’s easy to get stuck chasing them.

Today, success means freedom – the freedom to live by the ocean, to surf almost every morning, and to build a life shaped by small, intentional choices. A life where I get to design – and choose – every single piece of it.