We’ve written a few behind-the-scenes posts about taking on side projects—for example, how our lighting collection came together and our experiences writing a book—so we wanted to be open about a side gig that didn’t end up working out, despite months of effort. We like to share the good, the bad, and the messy parts of projects, and this one absolutely belongs in the “lessons learned” pile.
A reputable rug company reached out and proposed a collaboration: a Young House Love rug collection. The timing felt right—we were already working on a lighting line—and the idea of designing accessible, well-made rugs appealed to us. We love natural materials like cotton and wool in our own home, and the company was on board with producing flatweave rugs in those fibers.
Over several months we exchanged emails, made plenty of phone calls, and shipped samples back and forth. We sketched concepts, worked with their designers to refine renderings, and reviewed physical samples as they came in. I still laugh at how tiny Clara was during the early sampling stage—those photos are a reminder of how long and involved the process can be, and yes, there’s an arm tattoo cameo in one of the shots.
When it came to the design work, we focused on patterns, colorways, and scale adjustments so each rug would feel versatile and attractive in real homes. The manufacturer produced high-quality flatweave cotton rugs that we genuinely loved; they felt like something we’d happily put in our own house. The quality and look were on point, but as the samples progressed the price point became an increasing concern.
Affordability matters to us. We’ve always tried to design and recommend items we’d actually buy ourselves, and we rooted our lighting collection in a clear affordability goal—designs around a $99 price point, for example. When the rug prices started landing much higher than we expected, it created a real dilemma. We kept asking ourselves: how could we promote products we wouldn’t buy at the suggested retail price?
After several tense conversations and a few sleepless nights, we came to a difficult conclusion with the company: the collaboration wasn’t the right fit. The price gap was too large to bridge without compromising the quality everyone had worked hard to achieve, and neither side wanted to sacrifice materials or manufacturing standards just to lower the retail price. It felt more honest to step away than to put our name on a product that didn’t match our values or our budget-minded audience.
It’s worth noting that the company continued with their production plans and could sell the designs at their preferred price point, so our concepts weren’t wasted. And even though we didn’t end up launching a branded rug collection, the experience was valuable. We learned a lot about the technical and logistical side of rug manufacturing, and we sharpened our priorities for future collaborations—most importantly, to align on price targets and quality expectations early in the process.
Running an independent business teaches you to work hard and hustle, because the income you generate directly impacts your life. But it also teaches a different kind of discipline: not letting the prospect of money drown out your instincts. If something doesn’t feel right, it’s better to bow out gracefully—even after months of unpaid work—than to attach your name to a product that doesn’t represent you. That’s a tough lesson we had to apply here, and it’s one we’ll carry forward into future projects.
So that’s the story of a side gig that never saw the light of day under our name. The designs, the samples, and the conversations all taught us practical lessons about collaboration, manufacturing, and where we draw lines on price and quality. Have you ever invested time into a project that ultimately didn’t match your goals or values? How did you handle stepping away?