by: Imani Henderson published July 22, 2026 at 1:36 PM
At the time, I had only sold about 100 swimsuits, and when I say “sold,” I’m being generous. I had probably given most of them away to influencers. Some posted, some didn’t. I even paid a few people to promote the brand, only for them to sell maybe one swimsuit or, let’s be honest, none at all. Lol.
Still, I believed in ALUJ.
I believed in it enough to resign from my good government job, withdraw money from my TSP, and decide that I wanted to produce a fashion show.
It may sound random, but for me, it made perfect sense. I grew up modeling, participating in talent shows, and performing. I had also just stepped away from a local music career, so performance had always been one of my biggest forms of expression. If I was going to introduce ALUJ to the world, I wanted to do it in a way that felt authentic to me, on a stage.
I reached out to a familiar face, someone who had remained active in the modeling industry, and we immediately got to work. We rented rehearsal spaces, coordinated 30 models, and began planning what would become ALUJ’s first major fashion show.
Looking back, the entire production was a roller coaster.
The venue we were planning to use for our upcoming show was actually in the middle of bankruptcy, and no one told us.
I found this venue through a friend I trust, so naturally I trusted the people running it too. We moved forward on a handshake agreement while waiting for the contract.
Fast forward to two weeks before the show… we still didn’t have a contract, and they wouldn’t even accept a deposit.
Their explanation was that they were still trying to price add-ons like LED screens, lighting, draping, and special effects. But my point was simple: the base venue rental was already agreed to. We should’ve at least had a contract in place for that while we figured out the extras later.
Instead, they kept delaying paperwork and eventually started suggesting completely different venues.
Come to find out, the real reason they didn’t want to put anything in writing was because they were dealing with a lawsuit, bankruptcy, and were in the process of losing the venue.
This was only about two weeks before the show.
Imagine having 30 models rehearsing, 250 seats to fill, tickets already being sold, and an entire production in motion, only to realize that you might not even have a venue. I was already in over my head, and now the foundation of the entire event felt like it could disappear at any moment.
Then, models started dropping out at the last minute. One model even showed up to rehearsal ready to fight over her model fee. Yes, you read that correctly. Lol.
The DMV modeling scene was extremely competitive, and at the time, it was common for models to pay participation fees. Even during my own experience modeling in college, we paid fees to be involved. However, one model compared me to Kim Kardashian and argued that Kim would never make models pay.
I remember thinking, Ma’am, I am not Kim K. Not yet, anyway.
As funny and chaotic as those moments were, they taught me one of my earliest and most important lessons in entrepreneurship. If you want to be the boss, you have to pay the cost.
Nobody is obligated to give you anything. People have to be compensated, bills have to be paid, and whether the event wins or loses, the responsibility ultimately falls on you. When your name is attached to the vision, you are the one who has to carry it through.
Despite all the chaos, the audition turnout completely blew me away. That audition eventually became a full fashion show featuring 30 models and 250 seats. Somehow, we sold out the entire show.
I was in way over my head, but I did it.
Do I regret taking such a huge risk? Not at all.
That moment cemented both me and the brand. People realized I was serious. ALUJ wasn’t just another clothing line created by an influencer. It was a real fashion brand with a vision, a community, and something meaningful to say.
Most importantly, the experience didn’t discourage me. Somehow, every dropped model, unexpected expense, disagreement, last minute crisis, and moment of uncertainty lit an even bigger fire under me.
After that show, people weren’t just watching anymore. They were waiting to see what ALUJ would do next.
