In 2019, I wrote in my diary: I want to start my own brand. I want to create content.

I didn’t.

In 2020, I wrote it again.

I didn’t.

2021. 2022. 2024. Each year, the same words, the same unfulfilled wish. And yet, everything else on my list somehow managed to happen (friends, family, career, etc)—except this.

 

 

It’s funny how we do that to ourselves.

For years, I built my career in finance. I climbed and checked off every milestone—but something always felt missing. The deeper I went, the more I felt like I was suppressing the creative part of myself, the part that had always been there. 

So, let me introduce myself properly this time:

I’m the designer, the founder, and the face behind Grei. Nice to meet you.

Why Nails? Why This?

I’ve always been into nails—not just as an accessory but as a statement. Maybe it’s my ADHD (I got diagnosed in 2023 but somehow managed to engineer a functional life around this), but I fidget with my hands constantly, my thumbs are wrecked from years of unconscious picking. Wearing press-ons, for me, is almost like armor. A second skin. A quiet declaration of power. The same way someone puts on earrings before walking out the door, my nails complete me. They say something before I even have to.

It started as a side hobby—just me, designing sets in my tiny Toronto apartment and sending them to my friends. But then, people started asking for them. More and more, until my little setup turned into something bigger than I had planned. 

That One Flight Changed Everything

At the end of 2024, I booked a one-way ticket to Shanghai. I didn’t tell anyone what I was up to.

I went straight to 东海 (Donghai)—a small city that produces nearly 70% of the world’s press-on nails. I visited over 30 manufacturers and factories in person (I went there cold, and have actually sourced a good amount of the suppliers by just talking to the street vendors. People are extremely friendly, surprisingly), walking through production lines, seeing firsthand how the industry operates. It didn’t take long for me to realize the truth:

Most suppliers—even those who claimed to be 100% artisanal—were just mass-producing nails on assembly lines. The “handmade” claim? It meant one worker assembling 60 sets per day in a factory with fluorescent lighting and conveyor belts (they're making CAD $40-50 per day). There was rarely any high-end suppliers that are capable of factoring my products.

I knew I couldn’t build Grei on this.

But after days of searching, I finally found it— the only one in the entire city that could create designer-level nails at scale.

Instead of factory workers, they hire trained artists, people who actually specialize in fine arts. The difference in quality was obvious the moment I saw it.

That was it. That was my manufacturer.

Grei Is More Than a Brand—It’s a Message

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: if you keep waiting for the right moment, it will never come. You have to create it.

Grei is an extension of me—another version of me that’s been craving to be seen. It’s not just a brand; it’s a message, a statement, a world I’ve built from every part of myself I once tried to suppress.

So welcome to my world.

You’re not just wearing press-ons—you’re wearing a piece of my story, a piece of our story. Because if there’s one thing I want Grei to stand for, it’s this:

You don’t need permission to be bold. You don’t need permission to take up space.

Because the only thing standing in your way is you.

And trust me, I know. I spent five years learning that lesson so you don’t have to.

Now, tell me—what’s something you’ve been waiting on?