Then came the glory years, those heady days of being the darling of the cycling industry.  Every September for nine years I descended on Las Vegas, the crotchal region of the United States, with 49,000 other cycling fanatics for a week of bikes, booze, debauchery, schmoozing, sales, and fame! I was propositioned by numerous large bicycle businesses. I twice raced the Wheelers and Dealers Cyclo-cross race, until I realized that these industry folks were out for blood, not for fun. I schmoozed with my heroes: Miguel Indurain, Barry Bonds, Bill Walton, Freddy Rodriguez, Lance Armstrong, Gary Fisher, George Hincapie…

Of course, I had been working up to the big show for a number of years. Each of my two seasons was split into three parts: design and development of the collection; sales and marketing of said collection (including photo shoots, brochure and postcard design, and traversing the states to do in-person sales calls); and finally collating all the orders, projecting additional sales, production, and shipping. Early on, most weekends would find me at cycling events small and large, hawking my wares. Thrown into that mix were blow-out warehouse sales and increasingly larger events such as the Portland Handmade Bike Show, SF Bike Expo, PedalFest at Jack London Square, Ladie’s Nights at Adams Avenue Bicycles in San Diego, Folsom Bicycles, Wheatridge Cyclery in Denver, Turin Bicycle in Chicago… It was exhausting for sure, but I loved getting out, meeting my customers, and receiving welcome feedback.

Five consecutive Februarys found me in exotic American destinations – Portland, Indianapolis, Richmond, Austin, and Sacramento to exhibit at the North American Handmade Bicycle Show.  At this show I was the precious little sister of the brilliant yet curmudgeonly old-school frame-builders.  For the women who had dutifully attended the show with their men, or on their own, I was a welcome distraction from the sea of bike porn. 

Thanks to Murphy Mack and his boundless energy and organizing skills I had a 40+ member bike racing team, Sheila Moon and Her Boyfriends, populated with women, and men, who happily raced in floral print skinsuits and jerseys. Our crowning achievement was the right to be the title sponsor, host, and organizer of the Single Speed Cyclo-Cross World Championship 2011, a mud-infused bacchanal of rain, bikes, whiskey, cowbells, and truck nutz. The team presence at races, mostly Cyclo-Cross, was both epic and legendary for the booth, BBQ, and next-level heckling.

The SF Bay Guardian awarded me a Best of the Bay Award, Best Bicycle Clothing for Babes.  The San Francisco Renaissance Entrepreneurship Center was key to my humble beginnings as an entrepreneur. After completing their business planning class they invited me back to be an advisor for new students; then they asked me to teach a special marketing course, next they asked me to be the keynote speaker for the latest graduation, finally they honored me as their Established Entrepreneur of the Year! I was the featured designer for two years running at the Tour of California Banquet & Fashion Show.  The second year I witnessed Robin Williams, decked head to toe in Sheila Moon Cycling Apparel, strut his stuff on the runway to James Brown’s Sex Machine. I felt like I was getting recognition for both my business acumen and my quirky design sense.

I had grown my business from me, myself, and Luna to an amazing crew of seven outside sales representatives and an inside staff of up to five full and part-timers. I was never a gifted manager, to say the least, but I did have some incredible staff, freelancers, and models by my side who I am still honored to call my friends. Some of my amazing “inside staff” were Liza Hartlaub, Jodi Cox, and Sam Bell; My favorite outside sales reps included Ron Lauber, Sharon Slemons, Irene Arnolis, and Noelle Wansbrough; amazing team of photographers and models included Wil Matthews, Pamela Palma, Melody Metzger, Mel Schultz, Sarah Harling, nieces Emily and Willow Moon, Jason Ferrier, and Joe Taylor; my cousin Eric Kilkenny created my memorable and off the wall postcards. The incredible and talented Barb Howe was my right hand for many years, together we created the sassy and sexy aura of the Sheila Moon brand. Of course, I doubt I would have survived this long without my bestie Sara Brown who has stood by my side since our early bike-racing days and was the most amazing cheerleader, shoulder to cry on, and religious/spiritual/mental advisor. Sara was my co-conspirator for that very first Interbike. We created the entire booth from scratch and were relegated to the back corner of the hall. Thanks to the incredible postcard featuring three nekkid women on a bike we were slammed the entire show. Our motto? “Good from far but far from good.” I was proud to have her as my #1 during my entire career.

On the home front, I was kicked out of my “work only” 1,000 square foot warehouse at 8^th and Brannan in 2008 and relocated to a 1,900 square foot proper live work space in a ghetto of Oakland. A true ghetto. The alley behind the warehouse was dubbed Blow Job Alley, with a hand made sign declaring, “No Humping, No Car Sex! No Dumping, No Trash!!!” My new proper live/work space had an upstairs living quarter with a full kitchen and bathroom – complete with bathtub! I’m pretty sure everyone brought me bubble bath or bath bombs and I’m pretty sure I took a bath every night until every bubble ran out. I’d been doing the sponge for far too many years. A couple years later the business was going so well I was finally able to separate my business from my home, renting the cutest little one-bedroom duplex in Upper Fruitvale, the perfect showcase for my beautiful antique furniture. Shortly thereafter I upgraded to a 3,500 square foot space in Emeryville (E’ville to you and me) that had three offices, two bathrooms, a kitchenette, an inventory room and my very own sacrosanct workspace! In truth, I wasn’t happy about the move, but I was less happy that the warehouse complex was becoming a grow space with middle of the night trimming sessions, overflowing water, the pervasive aroma of weed, and the inevitable violence and break-ins.

Those were heady days indeed.  I was living my dream of being The Sheila Moon, and it was “all that,” until it wasn’t.

You can check out the beginnings of Sheila Moon the fashion designer here.