Diary of an Opera Singer: House of Roz

I woke up at 6:23am on the first day of my spring break thinking about the many things on my to-do list and how I don’t want to do any of them. I readjusted my shih tzu who somehow takes up nearly an entire king size bed despite weighing only fifteen pounds, his fluffy potato body having contorted mine into some kind of human pretzel. I tried to go back to sleep, but I’m a woman of a certain rage, and that's just impossible. The brain is on, the thoughts are brewing and percolating, and now I'm thinking about coffee.

I also woke up thinking about Martha Stewart. Not really an uncommon occurrence for me. I used to subscribe to her magazine and would marvel at her monthly calendars of plans that included pruning the peonies, cleaning her upholstery, private yoga classes, and pickling plans. Everything neatly laid out in order and in service of living the life she wants and continuously builds with purpose. A woman I have long admired and fan-girled over, whose influence on my newest venture—an online vintage/antique shop called "House of Roz"—is as strong as the black coffee I’m now chugging.

I am drawn to people who expand on their work in interesting ways. Yes, she is the queen of good things who started in modeling and finance and is now besties with Snoop. But first, she quietly planned and grew. She expanded. She uncaged herself...blah blah blah unneeded prison joke here...and now rules her own empire of all the things she worked tirelessly to build.

Piece by piece, idea by idea, Martha reveals one thing I know to be true: We are not one thing. We're whatever we want to be—complex, multi-faceted, limitless, and everything in between. Like tater tots holding more heat than seems physically possible, we contain multitudes. How did I jump to tater tots you may wonder? Don’t ask, because I have no idea but now I want to dip them in my coffee.

I do have an idea about how I got here. I love pretty things. I will spend more time decorating a festive table and floral arrangements than I do on the meal I will serve on that table. If you show me a giant pile of items, I will intuitively and almost instantaneously find the one worth picking out. It’s most likely hiding under a pile of absolute garbage, but I’m going to see it.

I will wander around my house and change up the decor and placement of furniture and furnishings, constantly. I will never just leave it and be satisfied. I’m always looking for ways to improve the function, beauty, and simplicity of the space I occupy. I don’t ever feel like my space is completely done or set in stone. Although, I do love stone. Alabaster and travertine, in particular.

As a teenager my bedroom was described by my mother as an absolute disaster. My response has always been the same: Teenager eye roll followed by, “It’s not messy, Mom. It’s artistically strewn.” Back then, my artistry was in its infancy and it wasn’t clean or tidy. It was grand, larger than life, and certainly could not be contained by the farm I grew up on in rural Canada. It was a time of artistic experimentation and abandon, and looking back, it was a total mess. Sorry, Mom.

House of Roz is emerging as my mid-forties renaissance, a creative sanctuary where I can celebrate beauty without compromise. It's built on the foundation of everything I've learned from the people who shaped me—my glamorous grandmother with her perfect color coordination and impeccable eye and my resourceful and detail oriented mother who insists on decorating shortbread cookies with tweezers.

It’s inspired by my teachers, mentors, and Martha who constantly demonstrate fierce determination and build institutions and artistic empires in spite of the roadblocks thrown in front of them. My friends and colleagues who constantly remind me that true artistry extends beyond performance to encompass how we live and what we create.

House of Roz channels this spirit of artistic rebellion. It's for people who understand that beauty isn't about conforming to some arbitrary standard but about expressing your authentic self. It's for those who appreciate craftsmanship and thoughtful design, who want their surroundings to reflect their unique personalities rather than passing trends.

I don’t really know why I didn’t put all of this together sooner. Probably too busy screaming…I mean singing. The opera world that I’ve inhabited for so long shares so many things with the antique and vintage community. Both require the same eye for beauty, patience for the perfect moment, and yes, occasionally some dramatic gasping.

Both worlds value the importance of history and how it intersects and reflects our current world. They both honor the beauty and unique element of style and how each person can and should bring their full and authentic selves to the stage…or their stores…in order to make an authentic connection with their audience.

Plus, there’s the obvious connection that these pieces that I am drawn to are often literally from times when my favorite operas were being written. All art is connected and intersectional and just so freaking cool.

This isn't just a shop—it's an extension of my artistic voice, another way to connect with people and create moments of beauty and meaning. It's for everyone who appreciates that life, like opera, is richer when we embrace its full emotional range, its contradictions and complexities.

Each collection is named for an opera that has shaped me, with pieces selected not just because they're beautiful (though they certainly are), but because they somehow capture that ineffable quality that makes both vintage items and opera so magical—they've survived time by being worth remembering.

So whether you’re an opera lover or vintage seeker, connoisseur or curious browser—House of Roz welcomes you to a stage where every piece tells a story, and beautiful things get their well-deserved encore. I’d like to think Martha would approve and yes, Mom, my room is now clean. Kinda.