‘You’re on Your Own, Kid’: Taylor Swift fans struggle for Eras Tour tickets

By Isabella Reilly

On the morning of Nov. 15, 2022, lifelong Taylor Swift fan Emma McElroy sat at her kitchen table at 9:30 a.m. Bright-eyed and glued to her computer screen, she patiently waited to join the Verified Fan presale for Swift’s upcoming tour — the first concert the singer has headlined since 2018.  

At 9:41 a.m, she nervously texted her friend Jayne Willard. 

“Are you in the waiting room?” 

“Yes,” Willard replied. “I’m very scared.”

But by 10:33 a.m., McElroy sent another text, this time excited. 

“I got five lower bowl tickets for April 28 in Atlanta!” 

“Still 2,000 plus people in front of me,” Willard replied at 10:35 a.m.  

And at 11:21 a.m., Willard sent two sad face emojis with a message that read, “I haven’t moved in over 40 minutes.”

As a long-time fan of the singer herself, Willard said the cost didn’t matter. She had to see Swift live. 

Still, she didn’t think she’d have to bear with a 6-hour, slow-moving wait in Ticketmaster’s virtual queue to get what she wanted. 

“Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve”

Willard was one of millions of fans to experience significant wait times, site interaction issues and exorbitant additional fees during Swift’s Ticketmaster presale. Fans and scalpers competed for a seat to one of the tour’s 52 U.S. show dates. Twenty-six concert hopefuls have since filed suit against the ticketing company, claiming it engaged in anticompetitive and fraudulent conduct. 

“I’m not going to make excuses for anyone because we asked them, multiple times, if they could handle this kind of demand and we were assured they could,” Swift said in an Instagram statement. “It’s truly amazing 2.4 million people got tickets, but it really pisses me off that a lot of them feel like they went through several bear attacks to get them.” 

McElroy said as soon as she began moving in the queue, she knew she was ahead of others in line. She said she couldn’t believe how quickly she was able to get her hands on tickets.

Willard, who was competing for tickets to Swift’s third show in Tampa, said she entered the presale intending to buy two seats, assuming someone would want to go with her.

But after finally getting through to ticket selection, Willard recalls clicking on a single seat to view the price before immediately being sent to checkout. 

“I had one seat in my cart and thought, ‘I’m not going to risk this,’” she said. “I was just grateful to get out with something.” 

Despite the friends’ vastly different experiences, Willard and McElroy were some of the lucky ones. The ticket battle left many fans, such as Alexa Mazloff, empty-handed.   

After a 4-hour wait in the queue, Mazloff said she thought she could rejoin the presale line the following day and purchase one of the remaining tickets to Swift’s first Tampa show. Though she didn’t think her selection would be as vast, she trusted that if she logged on early enough the next morning, she would be fine.

She later learned she wasn’t.

To address what Ticketmaster called a “historic demand for tickets,” the company postponed the exclusive presale for Capital One cardholders scheduled for the afternoon of Nov. 15 to the following day. The general public sale, scheduled for Nov. 18, was canceled later that week. 

Jennifer Kinder, a lawyer representing Swift fans and founding attorney at the Dallas-based firm Kinder Law PLLC, said she had never seen a situation like Swift’s recent ticket sales before.

The Ticketmaster issues made national news, even attracting the attention of the U.S. Senate Judiciary Committee, which held a case hearing on the matter on Jan. 24.  

“Ticketmaster ought to look in the mirror and say, ‘I’m the problem, it’s me,’” Sen. Richard Blumenthal said during the three-hour hearing, quoting a lyric from Swift’s new single “Anti-Hero.”

Compounding an already trying customer experience, Kinder said verified fan tickets were sold for higher prices than initially negotiated, allowing the company to increase its existing additional fees. 

“As long as they can get scalpers and bots to buy a bunch of tickets, then they are ensured that the ticket will be sold two to three more times,” Kinder added. “And each time there is a new fee, they benefit.” 

Mazloff said that though she’s still on the hunt for a pair of tickets, most available for resale are out of her price range. She recalled an offer of one set of tickets priced at $1,000 each. 

“I’m sorry, but that is out of budget,” she said. “For me and for most people.”

“The Great War”

Kinder said she stands behind her decision to take on the suit, regardless of the criticism she’s faced.

She hopes her efforts will help prevent the further implementation of industry monopolies like the one fans claim Ticketmaster currently holds. Ticketmaster merged with Live Nation Entertainment, an events promoter and venue operator, in 2010. As a result, the company now holds an estimated 70% share of the market for ticketing and live events. 

Since Kinder Law began its “Take Down Ticketmaster” campaign in November, the firm has encouraged fans of other major artists interested in fundamental change to document their ticketing experiences, adding, “consumers need to stand up for themselves.” 

The first federal court hearing for the Swift fans’ lawsuit against the ticketing giant will be held on March 27. Kinder said the firm is prepared for what will likely be a “big fight.”

As for Willard, she isn’t letting anything get in the way of seeing Swift in Tampa. 

A first-year graduate student at UNC-Chapel Hill, she even moved her thesis defense, initially due by April 16, so it wouldn’t conflict with her show date. The committee hearing her defense agreed to do so on April 7, a scheduled university holiday.

With her one ticket secured, she’ll attend Swift’s concert solo, hoping the show will be akin to a religious experience. 

“Nothing is going to stop me now,” she said.

———

Edited by Allie Kelly and Guillermo Molero

From granite to HBO: How a southern boy transitioned to LA

By Virginia Phillips Blanton

 

He broke the mold

The trade offs were immense when Herman Phillips IV packed up his 2008 Honda CR-V, abandoning White Oak, South Carolina to traverse the country, running down a dream. Magnolia trees for palm trees. Crock-Pot mac ‘n cheese for authentic street pho. Acres of land for a rent-controlled shoebox. The boldest compromise was leaving the family granite business for a production assistant job at HBO.

Dora and Herman “Grady” Phillips III had five children. Hannah Brown, Ruthie, Mary Grace, Sarah and Hunter were raised in a town of 50 people. “Our parenting philosophy was to bring our children up in fear and admiration of the Lord,” Grady said.

“There was no part of my life untouched by religion,” Herman said. He couldn’t read “Harry Potter” because it was considered a satanic influence. Any film he watched was vetted through biblical movie reviews. Church on Sunday was clockwork.

“I always dreaded a Sunday morning in my house. I would dread the process of getting ready, putting on my tie and pushing everyone out the door. We had to drive an hour to church and an hour back. It was the most boring drive. We would listen to a sermon on the way, stay the entire service, then listen to a different sermon on the drive back,” Herman said.

He started going by Herman instead of his given name, Hunter, when he was 16. “It was too much of a stereotypical, southern boy name. I realized it wouldn’t be very good branding for who I wanted to be,” he said.

He chose filming over hunting

Phillips Granite Company was established in 1933. Herman always felt pressured to take over the family business and play the role of a good, Christian, southern gentleman. When he was 9 years old, he told his dad he wanted to be a filmmaker.

“I had two choices: to either embrace the expectations and lie to myself and others or leave it all behind and reinvent who I was supposed to be,” he said.

“I remember the first duck, quail and dove Hunter shot. I could read that it wasn’t a passion for him like it was for me. But he enjoyed us being together. We still hunt together when he comes home,” Grady said.

The one thing Herman gleefully shot as a boy was footage. He started writing little scripts when he was 7 years old. On a personal YouTube channel, he uploaded reviews of “The Chronicles of Narnia.” His parents allowed this online presence because he spoke with a brown paper bag over his head with eye cutouts to maintain privacy. When he was 13, his mother took him to be an extra in “The Hunger Games” franchise.

 

Growing up, Herman felt like he didn’t fit in with his White Oak, South Carolina community, but after working on HBO’s “Insecure”, he finally found his niche.

Adversity didn’t stop him

The first time Herman visited California was to tour colleges. Grady and Dora accompanied him. They passed out Bibles on the street in between tours of the University of Southern California and Loyola Marymount University. Even then, they sensed their son’s magnetism toward Los Angeles.

Granite weathers away slower than other rocks. But it can bear abrasions. Herman’s acceptance to the University of Southern California validated every unacceptance he felt in his hometown. “But when USC didn’t offer me any scholarships or financial aid whatsoever, everything seemed to collapse around me. I don’t think I’ve ever been that distraught, before or since. It’s still hard to think about,” he said. The reality of $60,000 a year sunk in. He enrolled in the University of South Carolina’s Honor College.

“He was very much a gentleman about it. He understood why he couldn’t go,” said Dora.

Herman’s career momentum kick started at a Philips’ family reunion, of all places.The  It was the summer before his first semester at the University of South Carolina. He was deflated about settling in South Carolina. He had no idea his mentor was floating in a sea of nametags. Hello, my name is: Ben Patrick. A production sound mixer who resided in LA, Patrick connected Herman with Jim Kleverweis, a producer at HBO. One coffee with Kleverweis and a conspicuous email correspondence landed him a summer job working on the television series “Insecure,” directed by Issa Rae. Herman worked every college summer in some entertainment capacity in LA

“People have their cliques, their respective groups, their fraternities and sororities. I had never felt like I had found my people, my tribe, until I stepped on a film set. Once I did, it washed over me. ‘Oh, this is what it’s supposed to be like,’” he said.

The City of Angels summoned him. The summer before his junior year of college, an assistant director on “Insecure” encouraged him to drop out and continue working with them. Heeding the advice, he loaded extra credit hours onto his schedule and plunged into his honors thesis, graduating a year early. His exodus from the East Coast began five days after graduation.

Neighbors warned him: “Traffic is going to be terrible,” and “They do it different out West.” The difference is what drives him. Jack Kerouac style, he sped through 10 states to his new home. The road trip was a formal education for his narrow worldview.

He grew but never changed

LA has not watered down his southern mannerisms from sweet to unsweet tea. The phrases yes ma’am, no ma’am, yes sir and no sir remain in his vernacular. “He’s found great success in his first few years in LA, but that hasn’t changed who he is. He’s still the same old Herman,” said Matt Francis, his best friend.

“One of the reasons he wears facial hair is to cover up the fact that he’s only 21. On Monday, he had to drive 40 miles to be on location at 5 a.m. He woke up at 3:30 a.m. and got organized. Hunter is very organized. Everything is working in his favor,” said Dora.

A wide shot of his West Coast life doesn’t fit a single still. His White Oak routine was stagnant. He facilitates physical production for the upcoming HBO series “Euphoria” with rising talent Zendaya. He was recently  asked back onto production for a fourth season of “Insecure.” He grabs coffee for the directors and actors, wires mics and escorts actors to the camera. Everything is time-sensitive.

There is a familial structure on set that comforts him when he feels uprooted from his immediate family.

“We’re all just a bunch of weirdos trying to make it for ourselves. We’re all here for the same reason, because you feel like you’re contributing to something bigger than yourself. A film can change people’s lives in ways you don’t even realize. Making something beautiful is why it all works,” he said.

Juggling a 65-hour work week, he has a standing call with his parents on Sunday afternoons, followed by another with his grandmother. Last spring, Grady and Herman went skydiving together. Herman jumped first.

“Once we were out of free fall, my tandem partner told me to look up. Hunter had jumped out first and we were the ones below him. How’d that happen,” Grady said.

The life Herman Grady Phillips IV lives isn’t guided by a predetermined headstone. “I’ve taken my family name and turned it into something totally different than what the name means in the South. Even though I may not be the fourth generation Phillips making granite, I represent the fourth generation of my family as entrepreneurs.” Etch that on his grave.

 

Edited by: Victoria Young

UNC senior brings the pianos of Graham Memorial to life

By Marine Elia

In the oak-paneled Graham Memorial study lounge, the room resonates with the heavy, melancholic notes evocative of a Chopin piece. The scene is akin to that of a 19th century drawing room, with dim lighting from the chandeliers illuminating students reclining on gleaming leather sofas. Emotion effortlessly flows from the piano into the ears of the people in the room. Tucked away in the corner, the varnished baby grand shines. The pianist, a girl in neon yellow overalls, is consumed by the music.

The pianist is Tianzhen Nie, a classically trained pianist and Hawaii native. During her brief spurts of spare time as a senior at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, she brings the pianos of Graham Memorial and Hill Hall to life.

“Pure bliss,” she said in response to how music makes her feel.

Nie may have trained classically from the ages of 6-17, but she hasn’t stopped improving her musical skills. When playing in spaces on campus, she frequently makes her impromptu performances interactive by calling on her audience to give an emotion for her to recreate on the piano.

“The thing about music, though, is that it’s really like acting. In that moment, when you’re playing, you can step into whatever mood or realm of feeling you want, even if it’s not the headspace you’re currently in,” Nie said. “It’s really like a kind of escape.”

Nie refers to improvising as her preferred form of playing. The inexorable connection she has with the piano allows her to play flawlessly without even glancing at the keyboard.

“I’ll ‘Bird Box’ it and look away or just close my eyes,” Nie said, alluding to the recent Netflix original psychological thriller.

A unique talent discovered and a special bond formed

Although she knows music is an innate characteristic of her mind and soul, Nie accredits her training to her piano teacher in Honolulu. Earning the endearing title of “Auntie Alice,” Nie’s teacher, Alice Hsu, continues to be her motivator and biggest fan.

Hsu aspired to become a professional pianist after graduating from music school in Vietnam, but switched routes to teach the next generation of young musicians. Hsu taught at Nie’s elementary school and first encountered her when she was a talented third-grade piano player—with awful technique. Hsu took her in as a student for private lessons.

“After the foundations were built by having the discipline to practice every day, that’s when her creativity and passionate [playing] started to show,” Hsu said.

Nie recalls Hsu’s piano studio where she spent endless hours rehearsing the standardized piano tests to advance to new levels of piano mastery.

Lessons would always begin with a conversation on how Nie was feeling, a demonstration of the warm, familial relationship between the teacher and student.

“She cared about not just how I developed as a musician, but as a student and person,” Nie said.

Overcoming obstacles

Like many tales of success, Nie’s did not come without its trials and tribulations. When she was in fourth grade, Nie rebelled against her parents and rejected the five hours a week spent practicing. It didn’t take much to quell an 11-year-old’s uprising as her parents stressed the importance of piano as an outlet and creative pursuit.

During the recession in 2008, Nie’s father lost his job, and her piano lessons had to be placed on a hiatus until he found employment. Nie’s piano career could have been canceled indefinitely if not for Hsu, who saw her potential and offered to give her pro bono lessons due to the magnitude of her talent.

“I was compelled to help,” Hsu said. “She was too unique for me to let her go.”

Early on, Nie’s independence and creativity were in the nascent stages of development as she chose the pieces she wanted to play under Hsu’s “democratic teaching.” It would be this sense of musical autonomy that led Nie to compose her first piece at 12 years old. As part of a project in middle school to create a video in iMovie, she used her talents to compose the background music. The impressive feat earned her the attention of her principal who wrote her a letter describing how proud she was of her.

“When I received the letter, that’s when I stopped and said, ‘Okay, yeah. I might just be good at this,’” Nie reminisced. To further her talents, she sought new spaces where she could grow, such as her church where she practiced improvising and accompanying the choir.

A creativity that can’t be bound

Last summer during a study abroad program in the Galapagos with her environmental studies program, Nie was inspired to once again unearth her composer persona. With a team of friends, including an aspiring documentary filmmaker, the group of students produced a short four-minute documentary for which Nie wrote the score.

Nie intends to start composing again, but with multiple art forms clouding her vision of a future as a soloist, the task of composing is an arduous one. As a cellist and having a background in Chinese zither as a nod to her Chinese heritage, Nie does not suffer from a lack of instruments to absorb her creative fluids.

At the intersection of creativity where talent runs in multiple veins of expression, music lends itself to poetry. Nie is a member of the UNC Wordsmiths, the spoken word team on campus. She represented the Wordsmiths at the College Union Poetry Slam Invitational, the national competition for college spoken word teams, for the past two years.

Her repertoire ranges from pieces parodying Donald Trump to statement-making feminist commentaries intent on changing the stigma around periods.

Mistyre Bonds met Nie in a poetry class her freshman year and is also a member of UNC Wordsmiths. She describes Nie’s writing style as “beautiful and powerful at the same time.”

Bonds envisions Nie “conquering the world” after graduation with her ability to connect to others.

Nie’s future abounds with possibilities. If she chooses to continue her education, she will pursue a master’s in environmental studies with a focus on environmental disasters and how they affect minority communities.

Earlier this semester, Nie began to flirt with the idea that her art could flourish into a successful career. Terence Oliver, who teaches motion graphics in the School of Media and Journalism, came across one of Nie’s spoken word performances on YouTube entitled “Person of Color” in 2017 and offered her $250 to participate in a video showcasing UNC’s talent and diversity.

Still waiting to discover if an artistic path will overtake an academic one, Nie said she will navigate her future with the mantra she applies to her musical improvisations, “When I make a mistake and hit the wrong note, I turn that mistake into a new melody.”

Edited by Mitra Norowzi and Natasha Townsend

Balancing books and beats: UNC students make music between classes

By Moses Musilu

Late Tuesday night, Wesley Simmons sits alone at his desk, under a dimmed blue lamp, buried in his laptop.

With a few more taps on the keyboard, the Charlotte native finally finishes his assignment for class and closes his laptop to check the time on his clock: 1 a.m.

Slowly he collects the books and notes spread across the desk, neatly separates what he needs for class and puts it in his book bag. Picking up the clock, he adjusts the alarm for 9 a.m. the next day, and turns off the light in his room.

But instead of getting in his bed, he goes back to his desk and increases the brightness on his lamp. He pulls out his headphones, pen and notebook and begins to write. Countless songs and poems consume the pages, dating back to when he was in eighth grade.

For Simmons, it’s the perfect time to make what he loves: Music.

And there are times when you’d find him wide awake until 5 a.m. deep in his notebook.

“Most of my writing comes between that time,” he said. “That’s when it starts to click for me. There’s nothing else I have to think about. Being up that late doesn’t feel like I’m forcing myself to do it.

“During the day, I’m always thinking what I have to do, whether that’s class or meetings. But at the end of the day, it’s just me and what I want to do with my time. That’s music.”

“The College Dropout” or “Graduation”?

With a growing hip-hop community, students find themselves trying to balance the books with their music. For some, the weight is too much. Raekwon Williams, a 22-year-old rapper from Raleigh, North Carolina, dropped out of UNC-Greensboro his sophomore year to pursue a music career.

“I felt that school was distracting me to the point where I wasn’t putting my all into my music,” Williams said. “I wanted to devote everything I had to it. So now I’m here.”

Williams wasn’t the first to drop out in search of musical fame. Successful hip-hop artists such as Common, Sean Combs (P. Diddy) and Kanye West dropped out of college to pursue a career in music. Kanye West’s journey led to his record-breaking “The College Dropout” album.

Dropping out of school isn’t a decision that’s encouraged by most. In an interview, Kanye West told high school students to stay in school for the opportunities it provides and that his road to success was harder because of his decision to leave school.

Simmons goes by the name “Wes” in his music. Influenced by his parents, Simmons enrolled in UNC-Chapel Hill as an exercise sports science major in hopes of one day becoming a doctor.

But his desire of becoming a doctor slowly faded away, and by sophomore year he knew he wanted to turn his musical hobby into a profession. School seemed to be a waste of time.

“I began to realize I didn’t like school in high school,” Simmons said. “But once I got to college and had all the freedom, it solidified it. My mindset became more independent. Back at home, we’re so influenced by our parents, but they’re not living your life. You have to do what’s right for you.”

Simmons came to the realization when he was walking through campus on a Wednesday night. Every Wednesday, there would be a group of students freestyling in front of the Student Stores. He was impressed, but knew he could do better. After making friends in the group, he was introduced to other artists who showed him where he could record and make music.

But for Simmons, balancing music and school has always been a problem.

“Unfortunately, a lot of times, one or the other suffers,” he said. “If I have an exam one week, my writing suffers. Sometimes I get carried away in my writing and a test suffers.”

Amara Orji, another hopeful artist attending UNC-CH, agreed that although balancing music and college is difficult, it’s better to have a degree in case it doesn’t work out.

“Having a music career would be amazing,” he said. “But I know that there are millions of aspiring artists who work and try just as hard and don’t make it. Staying in school, I’ll always have something to fall back on.

“Also, my parents might kill me if I dropped out,” he quickly added.

Orji, who also studied exercise sports science, goes by the name “N19E.” It took him until his senior year at UNC-CH to realize he wanted to become a rapper, but he says his late revelation was probably for the best.

“I wouldn’t have dropped out but I might have started to question whether the work I was doing was worth it,” Orji said.

“I might not be famous, but I’m still an artist.”

Now on the verge of finishing his senior year, dropping out of college to pursue stardom was never a serious thought that crossed 22-year-old Simmons’ mind. He said when he starts something, he wants to finish it.

And it’s always good to have a backup plan.

Simmons said some people forget some famous artists weren’t discovered until they were older. He sees no reason to rush to stardom and is embracing his music journey.

“If Kendrick Lamar called me up, told me to fly out to California right now and sign me to a record deal, of course I’ll drop everything and go,” he said. “But that hasn’t happened, and I know what I learn from the connections and people I’ve met here are going to help me change the world through music.”

And if he doesn’t make it?

“Then I don’t make it,” Simmons said “I might not be famous, but I’m still an artist. I’ll still be able to make an impact on some people’s lives. It just won’t be as many.”

Simmons plans on becoming a teacher after graduation through Teach for America. He said teaching is what he wants to do through his music, so it made sense to become a teacher because of the major impact they have on people.

Simmons wants to change the world through his music the way Kendrick Lamar and Kanye West have by relating to a lot of people.

“Whether it was love or the struggle of growing up in bad environments, people used their music to help themselves in good and hard times,” he said. “I want people to have my body of art and transform the people who hear it like they did. I want it to be something they can carry in their lives forever.”

Simmons has released two albums in the past year on his SoundCloud page and will soon release music videos. He performs at local open mic nights around Chapel Hill with other hip-hop artists from UNC-CH whenever he has the chance.

“I performed at a show with 30 people the other day, and compared to Kendrick, of course that’s nothing,” he said. “But, that meant the world to me. I enjoyed everyone in there, and I know this is just the beginning. You have to crawl before you can walk.”

Edited by Ana Irizarry

The business of sprouting joy and peace from tiny seeds in Durham

Picture1
Almost 700 plants surround visitors from all angles at The ZEN Succulent. Photo by Molly Weybright.

By Molly Weybright

Shades of green — a gradient so expansive that you didn’t know so many variants of the color existed.  Colors that look like the way a granny smith apple tastes, like the feeling of damp grass between your toes, like petrichor — the earthy smell after heavy rain.  Over 100 different species of plants hang from the ceiling, rest on shelves against the walls and nestle into nooks around the floor.  Succulents and ferns surround you in the 400 square foot space that holds almost 700 plants.  They’re impossible to avoid.

Not that you would want to.

Stepping into The ZEN Succulent, a small store in Durham, N.C., is like entering another world.  It feels like Neverland — wild and untamed but also carefully crafted — every plant has a place where it belongs.  It is the type of place Peter Pan would long to call home.  The greens and browns and organized chaos exude wanderlust and magic; any minute a fairy might flit out from behind the large leaf of a philodendron.  If Tinker Bell were to ever find herself in Durham, this is undoubtedly where she would end up.

Megan George has crafted her small store to be more than just a plant shop.  She has created, as if by magic, an atmosphere of natural, easygoing relaxation that is impossibly inviting.  She wants to create a community of trust and creativity and believes that The ZEN Succulent and her plants are the best way to do it.

“Plants bring me joy, inspiration and happiness,” she said, and through The ZEN Succulent, she is able to share that with the community.

 

A roundabout past

Megan George grew up in Raleigh surrounded by plants.  Both of her parents were ardent plant-lovers and they often took her to greenhouses and nurseries.  Her love of plants is founded in the deep history that she has with learning about plants and how to care for them.

“The seeds that were planted way back when,” she said, “how I’m able to use them now, it’s crazy.”

She moved back to Raleigh in 2011 after graduating from business school at UNC-Greensboro.  Yearning for small-business jobs, she realized quickly that there were very few available.  She found herself working for the North Carolina Education Lottery.

She did not enjoy the job — her creativity was being stifled.  So, in an effort to combat her frustration, she started an Etsy page selling succulents and terrariums.

“Through my frustration in not being able to implement all of the things I learned at school,” she said, “that’s how [The ZEN Succulent] came about.”

And she never looked back.

Megan’s passion continued to grow as she developed ways to increase people’s knowledge about houseplants, succulents and terrariums.  She has since worked with HGTV, published a book titled “Modern Terrarium Studio” and opened The ZEN Succulent.

When Bakara Wintner, the owner of Everyday Magic, which now adjoins The ZEN Succulent, offered her the 400-square-foot space, Megan said she felt like it was fate rather than chance.

“At that point, I’d never said the words ‘I want to have a shop’ out loud,” she said.  “Even though I really wanted it, I’d just never had the opportunity.  But [Bakara] gave me that opportunity and I thought, why not?”

As soon as she knew she had a space to expand her passion, she jumped headfirst into building the business she always dreamed of having.

“In 20 years I can say ‘I did it,’” Megan said, “instead of saying ‘I wish I had done it.’”

Sarah Riazati, who works at Everyday Magic, was there when Megan signed the lease.  In less than a month, she said, Megan transformed the small, box-filled space into a “luscious, green, amazing-smelling little store.”  Sarah said she couldn’t believe how fast Megan created the green wonderland.

“That was really when I saw her design sense coming out,” she said.  “There are so many pieces that go into it.  It showed she had a really strong vision.”

Megan’s design sense and her business intuition work perfectly together to create a cohesive and thriving store where customers feel at home upon their first visit.

Megan said she wants shopping at The ZEN Succulent to be a very personal experience where customers get one-on-one attention to help their plant journey be as successful as possible.

“People can go anywhere to get plants,” Megan said, “so why do they come to me?”

One reason is the holistic approach she takes when dealing with the store.  She believes that if she has all of the things people need to create their terrariums or potted plants, then they will be more successful. So, if a customer buys a plant and a pot from The ZEN Succulent, Megan will put them together for free.

Megan’s sole employee, Julie Ragsdale, described her as knowledgeable and business-savvy as well as hilarious, kind and generous.

“I couldn’t imagine finding a more enjoyable person to work with,” Julie said.

When it comes down to it, those qualities are what make Megan and The ZEN Succulent so successful.  She is more than just a business owner or a plant lover — she is a people lover who wants to impart happiness and serenity upon everyone she meets.

 

Thriving in the present

Since opening the store Megan hasn’t stopped trying to involve members of the community with her business.  Her newest idea is to hold workshops at The ZEN Succulent.

She has collaborated with local artists to host watercolor painting, spoon carving, floral arranging and calligraphy workshops.  Megan herself hosts succulent terrarium building workshops where up to 10 people can make their own terrariums, each unique to the individual creating it.

“At all of the workshops everybody leaves with their own creation and something extra to recreate the exercise again,” she said.  “They are leaving with something to continue their journey.”

From her terrarium workshops participants will leave with their newly made succulents as well as instructions on how to recreate the experience in their own homes.

Her first workshop, hosted on Tuesday, April 18, sold out in five days with little promotion. Megan said that she was thrilled at how quickly the workshop sold out — she wants to help people discover the joy of owning and crafting indoor plants.

“We’re not just putting plants in glassware,” she said, “we’re making a landscape.”

As the 10 participants began to arrive on April 18, Megan put the finishing touches on the workshop spaces.  Each person would have a glass bowl; soil, sand and rocks; six succulents; and the tools necessary to put it all together.

She began the workshop by talking about how the succulents are low maintenance plants, which is what makes them ideal for small spaces with little natural light.

“I went into a low-maintenance business for a reason,” she joked.

But, unbeknownst to the 10 women participating, Megan had just spent the previous three hours getting ready and setting up for the workshop — on her day off.  The ZEN Succulent is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, but that doesn’t stop her from tending to the behind-the-scenes work that makes the store so magical.

For almost three hours she flitted around the store preparing the setups for the participants, vacuuming and running out to a nearby shop to purchase complimentary wine for the women.

But Megan doesn’t mind.  In fact, she loves it.

“When you enjoy what you’re doing you really want to excel,” she said.

Many of the participants were first-time plant owners looking to find some low maintenance yet beautiful plants to liven up their living and work spaces.

Diane Ditzel from Durham lives in a small apartment and wants to garden but has no land.  She heard about Megan’s workshop and felt like it was the perfect solution to her lack of space.  As the workshop progressed Diane realized that creating the terrarium was almost its own form of gardening.  She was taking living things and putting them together to create her own miniature garden.

“It’s like art,” she said.

Other participants felt that the idea of creating a succulent terrarium from scratch was daunting, but they found that once they got started under Megan’s instructions, everything fell into place.

Kim O’Brien, a participant from Wake Forest, prefaced the workshop by admitting that she had no idea what she was doing, but by the end felt that the experience was incredibly therapeutic.

“She’s good,” Kim said of Megan’s ease with plants and people and putting the two together.

And she is.

Megan said she purposefully doesn’t make a terrarium during the workshop so that the participants can make the terrariums in their own way.

There is no wrong way to create these landscapes, she said, and the freer people are to work on their own, the more they will appreciate the creativity and uniqueness of the results.

She also lets the participants pick six out of the hundreds of succulents she has available so they can pick the plants that they are most drawn to.  Megan emphasizes that plants are not just decorations, but are living things that individuals can connect with.  She said the terrarium building process is a “very organic experience.”

Many of the participants were thrilled and astounded by the wide variety of plants they could choose from, including Cassidy Johnson from Chapel Hill.

“I’ve never seen some of these before,” she said.  “It looks like something out of Dr. Seuss.”

Some of the plants are fuzzy and some are smooth.  Some are long, skinny and loping while others are squat and round.  There are pink plants and teal plants and red plants and blue plants.  Looking at the succulents side by side does seem like a small world out of the mind of Seuss himself.

Cassidy first noticed The ZEN Succulent as she was walking around downtown Durham, and when one of her coworkers at the Carolina Women’s Center heard about Megan’s workshop, they decided to check it out.

She said that she was thrilled about how relaxing the workshop was and how much she got out of it.

“We all have pretty serious jobs,” Cassidy said, “so it felt pretty nice to come do something like this.”

That’s exactly what Megan strives for — people discovering the serenity of working with plants and taking that discovery with them when they leave.

 

A wide-open future

When it comes to running a small business, Megan said she feels that passion is one of the most important aspects to finding success.  Her love of plants and her business skills create a perfect niche where she finds joy and success.  She described owning and running The ZEN Succulent as an “honor, privilege and responsibility.”

Her biggest piece of advice?

“Do something that you love and be authentic when you do it.”

Striving for that authenticity is something that she says she does every day.  She knows that she needs that authenticity as she continues to build and expand upon her ideas.

“I’m very aware of the mortality of my business,” she said, “because this is something that I need to take to another level, otherwise it’s going to be very static.”

While she is always looking forward to see what she can do to expand, she can’t help but reflect back on how far she has come.

As the anniversary of opening the shop approaches in May, Megan said that it’s hard to believe how much has come out of her passion for plants and her knack for business.

“It could have happened to anyone,” she said, “but I’m glad that it happened to me.”

She is not sure what her next step is, but as far as she can see into the future, Megan sees herself with The ZEN Succulent.

“I enjoy what I’m doing,” she said.  “This could be a forever thing.”

Edited by Bridget Dye.

Women make their mark: tattooing industry no longer a man’s game

By Leah Asmelash

Tattoos have increased in popularity over the last few years, as stigmas against body art have decreased in both social environments and the workplace. Although the artistic tradition has a long history in many indigenous cultures, the art form is most known in western culture as a symbol of the counter-movement, particularly in the ‘90s. They were sported by a crowd most parents didn’t necessarily want their kids to be around: punk skaters, gang members and convicts, usually all men.

Tattooing, in general, was a boy’s club. A woman with a tattoo was rare; a woman tattooing was unheard of. Now, people with tattoos come from all walks of life and from all genders, as do tattoo artists. So, what has changed in the last few decades, and why are people increasingly drawn to tattoos?

Boy’s Club

Heather Harlow, owner of Divine Moment Tattoo in Burlington, N.C., has been tattooing for 11 years. When she started, she said the industry lived up to its status as a boy’s club and was sexist towards women, but it has changed over the course of her career.

“I was maybe the first or second lady that actually did conventions on the East Coast,” Harlow said, while recalling her earlier days. “So a lot of people were just really rude to me, but I stayed strong and I knew they were going to make fun of me. I just knew that I didn’t care if I was a female or not. I loved art and I loved tattooing and I loved people.”

Now Harlow only hires women artists, in part because she felt mortified by how women tattoo artists were treated in the past. They were called curtain-hangers, a term signifying someone who should only go into the shop to hang curtains to make the space look pretty, rather than tattooing. Still, Harlow said it has gotten easier for women to enter the tattoo industry, and they have helped change and evolve the industry as a result.

“In the long run it probably has more to do with there’s not much competition,” she said. “Everyone has found a niche. There’s so many different types of tattooing now that anybody can do anything now. A lot of females are good for watercolors and stuff like that, more color. Guys hate doing that.”

Evolving Industry

Meghan Thayer owns Ascension Tattoo in Chapel Hill, N.C. Her shop, which is located on West Franklin Street between a smoke shop and a CD/record store, is more spacious than it seems upon first inspection. The front door opens into a tall staircase — the entire shop is on the second floor. The space is organized, with one room for piercing and one room for tattooing. The rooms are blocked off from the front desk area with a black curtain. The sun peering through the window casts shadows over the space, but Thayer doesn’t seem to mind. She leaves the lights off.

Thayer has only been tattooing for six years, but she’s always loved the art form, getting her first tattoo as soon as she turned 18. Although she never set out to be a tattoo artist, she has always been a creative person.

She said the tattoo industry is still dominated by men, but, like Harlow, she believes it’s evolving as more women begin tattooing.

“I think there’s been enough women who have been in the industry for a while now that there’s sort of this big enough group of women tattoo artists who new women tattooers can look up to,” Thayer said. “They’re becoming leaders in the industry, and it is starting to kind of balance out.”

Thayer also said women are going back to the older roots of tattooing, beyond the traditional style of the 20th century that has more masculine characteristics.

“People are getting back to more of like the healing aspect of things and the spiritual aspect of it,” Thayer said. “And while I see both male and female artists doing that, there’s definitely a feminine quality in that.”

A Growing Art Form

Sarah Peacock, owner of Artfuel Tattoo Shop and Art Gallery in Wilmington, N.C., has been tattooing for 22 years. Having working in the industry for so long, she’s  part of an older generation of tattoo artists, and she disagrees with both Harlow and Thayer on the role of women in the tattoo industry.

“I don’t think you can look at a particular style and say women definitely prefer to do that,” Peacock said, referencing differences in style between men and women tattoo artists.

Instead, Peacock said the new styles rising in popularity now are due to the influx of artists taking an interest in tattooing, not more women tattooing.

“Tattooing has gone into the hands of these people that have pushed the envelope, and they’ve brought so many different styles in, from graphic novels to fine art to computer art,” Peacock said.

All of the women, however, agree that the industry has changed drastically in the past few years, with more and more people getting tattoos. They no longer symbolize a rebel status like they used to. Instead, they have become a part of mainstream popular culture.

“Different types of people have been a little bit more okay with getting tattooed lately, in the past four to five years,” Harlow said. “I think what changed it was the media. If it’s on TV, it’s okay.”

Shifting Trends

Peacock first began to notice the change when her clientele shifted. She began to get to know people in the medical field or in law enforcement who were interested in tattooing, the types of people who did not express an interest before.

“What I suddenly realized is that I was being viewed as a successful business owner, aside from being a tattooer,” Peacock said. “So suddenly, I’m validated. I’m okay for someone to talk to me and take me into their group that aren’t necessarily into tattooing. And that was kind of weird.”

Peacock called the shift a turning point in her career. After only associating with fellow tattoo artists, she wasn’t used to attention from individuals outside of the industry.

Thayer agreed that tattoo culture has become more popular recently due to the influence of media, but she said the political climate may have something to do with the recent increase as well.

“Throughout history, there’s been surges of an increase of tattooing, and they tend to follow really politically turbulent times,” Thayer said. “I think we’re definitely in another one of this cycles, like we were in the ‘20s and ‘30s, and again in the ‘60s and ‘70s. We’re here again. It’s a way for people to take control of themselves. So I think that’s what’s really going on at the core of it.”

Express Yourself

Harlow said that people are drawn towards tattoos as a way to express themselves, not necessarily an expression of rebellion anymore.

“We have so many different types of people, and there’s so many humans on this planet that we’re trying to find a way to express ourselves and stand out,” Harlow said. “I think it’s a change of consciousness. People want to be able to be different and express themselves.”

Breast cancer patients have also become a large clientele for tattoo artists. Nipple tattoos help women feel better after mastectomies, when the breast and the nipple are removed, Harlow said.

“I can tattoo them and make them look 3-D, and they feel better with that,” she said. “As long as society is okay with it, it’s okay for people to get it.”

Peacock, who has also tattooed women after mastectomies, said tattooing breast cancer patients changed how people viewed her. She was no longer just a tattoo artist, but someone who was helping women by doing something surgeons couldn’t do.

For women especially, Thayer said tattoos help with self-esteem, even outside of mastectomies.

“(Women) have been told we’re not enough of something,” she said. “You’re too tall, you’re too short, you’re too thin, you’re too fat, you’re too whatever. You’re something.

“I see as people get tattoos, they start to accept themselves for who they are,” Thayer said. “And to stand up in front of the mirror and just love yourself, love the way you look, is such a powerful thing.”

Looking Forward

Women have gone through a long journey in the tattoo industry. Some are like Peacock, they’ve been in the industry forever with few problems, but others are Harlow and have been discriminated against based on their gender. In the end, there are more women now than ever before, women like Thayer who began tattooing just in the last few years, making their mark on the tattooing world.

The industry — whether it is because of the media, the political climate, the desire for self-expression or breast cancer — continues to grow in popularity among both men and women. And despite whether they are giving a tattoo or receiving it, women are, and have always been, a huge part of the tattoo industry.

Edited by Sarah Muzzillo