From High Tech to Heritage Knits

There are moments in life when the pace changes.

For most of my adult life, I worked in high tech. It was fast, strategic, demanding, and deeply rewarding. I built teams. I led communications. I navigated launches, transitions, and complexity.

And through all of it, there was always cashmere.

Not as a business — not yet — but as something constant. Something grounding. Something I reached for on early mornings before meetings, on flights across time zones, on quiet Sundays with coffee.

I was also raising three boys as a single mother.

Life was full. Structured around school schedules, sports practices, tuition payments, deadlines, and dinner on the table. Stability mattered. Reliability mattered. Making thoughtful financial decisions mattered.

Cashmere, for me, was never about excess. It aligned with my minimalist sensibilities and my sustainable worldview. I’ve always preferred fewer pieces — better made, worn often, kept longer. Cashmere wasn’t indulgence. It was intention.

It was about buying something once and wearing it for twenty years. About quality over noise.

And over time, it became connected to place.

Living in Marin County — surrounded by coastal fog, eucalyptus trees, hiking trails, and quiet mornings near the water — I felt drawn to a slower, more intentional way of dressing and living. Natural fibers. Neutral palettes. Pieces that feel at home in sunlight and sea air.

Marin Cashmere isn’t just about sweaters. It’s about a lifestyle rooted in beauty, sustainability, and simplicity.

When I transitioned out of my corporate career, I had space I hadn’t had in decades.

Space to think.
Space to reassess.
Space to ask what I actually wanted to build next.

And if I’m honest, there was also uncertainty.

There were mornings that felt quiet in a way I wasn’t used to. Questions about what came next. A recalibration of identity after years of being “the communications lead,” “the executive,” “the one in the meeting.”

In that quiet, Marin Cashmere stopped feeling like a side project and started feeling like a foundation.

It had always been there — consistent, intentional, aligned with how I actually live.

As a single mother, I don’t take risk lightly. I build thoughtfully. I protect stability.

So choosing to grow Marin Cashmere wasn’t impulsive. It was deliberate.

I’m applying everything I learned in high tech — strategy, systems, communication, discipline — to something tactile. Personal. Sustainable.

Marin Cashmere today is more than resale.

It’s about heritage brands and craftsmanship.
It’s about caring for what you own.
It’s about midlife not being an ending, but an editing process.
It’s about building something slower, quieter, and more aligned.
And it’s about sharing the beauty of Marin County — the kind that makes a simple sweater feel like enough.

I don’t know exactly what this next chapter will look like in five years.

But I do know this:

The pieces we choose matter.
The way we build matters.
And sometimes the side passion is the clearest signal of what’s next.

Buy better. Wear longer. Begin again.