The Cost of Starting Small

Florence d'Or: The Journal 

Entry 03 — The Cost of Starting Small

Published every Friday at 7:00 AM

Nobody tells you what small actually looks like.

They talk about humble beginnings in theory. They quote scriptures about small things becoming great. They tell you to start somewhere. But nobody sits you down and shows you what that "somewhere" actually looks like on a Tuesday afternoon when nobody is buying and you're carrying a perfume bag through hostel corridors, hoping someone opens their door.

I know what starting small looks like.

Florence d'Or taught me.

Starting small for Florence d'Or was bringing perfumes from home to sell in school because of supplier issues. Since it was a family business, it was safer, more convenient, and it made sense.

Starting small for Florence d'Or was going round the hostels, room by room, block by block, on random mornings, knocking on doors and telling people to patronise me.

Starting small for Florence d'Or was doing the packaging myself. The delivery myself. The content myself.

Starting small for Florence d'Or was shooting every photo alone, no photographer, no studio, no assistant. Just me, my phone, sunlight, torchlight and the best angle I could find.

Starting small for Florence d'Or was posting on Instagram without views, cheering myself on from my personal account because nobody else was clapping yet.

Starting small for Florence d'Or was delivering perfumes to customers myself, making sure every order arrived the way I would want mine to.

Starting small for Florence d'Or was never quitting but always restrategising.

Starting small for Florence d'Or was hard.

But it was beautiful.

All those sleepless nights thinking about how to be better, how to do more, and how to build this brand into everything I already saw it becoming.

What kept me going was never money.

It was never fame, status, or power.

It was legacy.

I wanted to build something my family would benefit from. Something my children could inherit. Something that could create opportunities, tackle unemployment, and become a place where character, trust, integrity, loyalty, and excellence are cultivated. Something that would continue creating value long after I am gone.

The gap between that vision and the current reality is wide in other people's eyes.

In mine, Florence d'Or is already living that reality. It just hasn't fully arrived yet.

And what holds me together in the space between the vision and the arrival is one verse: "For we walk by faith, not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:7)" 

Not by what I can see.

Not by the number of orders.

Not by the size of the following.

Not by how polished the brand looks today.

But by faith.

What people do not understand about small beginnings is that they expect them to look like something else entirely.

They feel their beginning is too small to share. Too early to talk about. They convince themselves they have not accomplished anything, forgetting that launching itself is an accomplishment. They wait until they have more money. They feel embarrassed. And when business is slow and customers are not piling up, they begin to believe they have already failed.

I never felt ashamed of this small beginning.

I was never ashamed of whispering to my course mates that I sell perfumes. I pasted it in every group chat without a single drop of humiliation. I carried my perfume bag everywhere. I told my neighbours, my friends, my relatives, my landlord, and my landlady: "Yes, I sell perfumes."

I wore it with pride because it was my pride.

This is Florence d'Or.

A brand curating premium fragrances for individuals who value elegance, confidence, presence, and refined taste.

And guess what?

It started in a hostel corridor.

"Though your beginning was small, yet your latter end would increase abundantly (Job 8:7)" 

That verse gives me hope every single time.

It reminds me that small beginnings are not shameful detours, they are the stepping stones to greater heights.

Every renowned fragrance house in the world started somewhere. A kitchen. A market stall. A small room. A dream that nobody else could see yet.

This "somewhere" phase, the room-by-room, block-by-block, packaging-it-yourself, posting-without-views phase, this is where we are. And this is exactly where we are supposed to be.

Small is not the opposite of great.

Small is where great begins.

And years from now, when Florence d'Or has become everything I believe it can be, I'll look back on these hostel corridors with gratitude.

Because this is where the story truly began.

Journey with me.