It started with a woman across the room. A total stranger, name unknown, who somehow changed everything.
We've all had that moment: when someone catches your eye. Their aesthetic is intentional, like it's their uniform. You feel a kind of admiration, like, respect—you are a total vibe. I've seen it happen with sneaker heads. With watch guys. When someone spots a detail that says, "You get it." It's subtle, but it lands. Craftsman recognizes craftsmanship.
For me, it was a woman in perfectly worn, tattered jeans, a simple white shirt, and layers of jewelry that looked like souvenirs from a well-lived life. Killer shoes and a genuine smile. She was effortless. Elegant. There was an aura. Every detail told a story and you wanted to know more.
I didn't know her résumé. I didn't need to. In that moment, I knew: I'd trust her to run a business, lead a team, build a brand. Whatever she did, I got the sense she was good at it and people in her circle trusted her. Not because of what she says, but because of how she shows up. It was clear she lived with purpose, and it showed in the smallest choices.
That one glimpse stuck with me. It reminded me why I trust people and places that are designed with intention. It's not just about what things look like. It's about how they feel. Purpose is magnetic.
Chateau Chloe is my version of that.
The Vision Before the Blueprints
Long before the foundation was poured, I had a BIG vision: to build a home that would become the anchor of my real estate and lifestyle brand, a canvas for content and creativity, and a place where good people could gather, tell stories and make memories.
By the time I committed to building Chateau Chloe, I'd been in real estate for 14 years. I knew the market, the deals, the pressure. I'd guided clients through hundreds of transactions, negotiated through chaos, and watched people bet big on their lives. I was respected, busy, and "successful" by any normal metric.
But there was a quiet restlessness I couldn't shake.
I didn't just want to sell homes. I wanted to understand them—from the inside out. How zoning really plays out when it's your name on the permit. How construction loans feel when the risk is yours. What actually happens between architects, builders, designers, and city inspectors when things are messy, not theoretical.
So I made the decision to build a custom home from the ground up. Not as a developer, not as a flip, but as the person making every decision, leading my vision into reality and signing off on every bill. I walked away from my first builder right before we broke ground. It was expensive, uncomfortable, and it set me back months. It was one of hundreds of moments I had to trust my gut when I had no idea what I was doing.
When My Career Became A Personal Bet
I went all in. I literally said "f*** it. I'm going for it."
I interviewed more than twenty architects and more than twenty builders and so on. I talked to designers, engineers, anyone who could help me understand how homes really live. I ran informal focus groups with clients, friends and Realtors, listening to what worked and what didn't in their houses—from the layouts that made mornings easier to the kitchens that quietly drove them crazy. Fun fact, every guy said they wanted an outdoor kitchen and every woman said yes to a mudroom.
I collected details obsessively: from adding a dog door and outlets in drawers to where two people could cook and dance around each other without colliding. I even taped out my future floor plan in a parking lot just to feel what it would be like to walk through rooms that only existed in my imagination.
On paper, you could say this was my self-appointed MBA in design and construction. It was my way of deepening my expertise so I could guide my real estate clients with lived experience instead of just good advice.
But it was more than that.
As this house was coming to life, so was a more intentional version of me. I invested in image and media coaching and partnered with a branding and marketing team so that my life, my work, and my home all told one honest story. That's when I reintroduced myself as Chloe Chiang Lifestyle and Real Estate.
I told myself, "you won't regret betting on yourself." And I bet big! I am and will always be my best investment.
Building In The Middle Of A Storm
What most people didn't see was all the chaos behind the scenes.
I was selling real estate full time during the wildest market of my career—through the pandemic, at the height of demand, while running a brokerage of 100 agents. Then the market shifted almost overnight. I went from making more money than I ever had to making half of that while spending ten times more on the house. Money was flying out. Not much was coming in. Every decision carried financial, emotional, and existential weight.
There were electric moments—like sitting in a dirt hole of my future pool, standing alone on the empty lot after the foundation was poured, walking the site at sunset as the frame went up, trying to imagine what it would look like when it's done.
And there were 2am moments: staring at changing budgets, second-guessing permanent decisions, wondering if I'd taken on too much, feeling the pressure of having no one to hide behind. I felt very alone digging in the trenches and the only way out was through.
By the time the house was finished, I didn't get the neat movie ending where the credits roll and everything feels resolved. I didn't even feel proud or accomplished. Honestly, I felt depressed. The decision fatigue fried my brain.
As the kids say these days. I crashed out.
I couldn't send an email without crying. I couldn't listen to music or podcasts. Getting out of bed required physically rolling myself onto the floor. So I walked. Sometimes for hours. It was the only thing that felt like progress. I stopped creating content because there was no performance left in me. The stress lived in my nervous system, and my body was done pretending otherwise.
They Saw Me Before I Did
The whole time I was building, I had been sharing the process on Instagram—the decisions, the progress, the mistakes, the breakdowns.
People showed up for me without even knowing how badly I needed them.
Friends, clients, acquaintances, and strangers who only knew me through a screen cheered for me. They didn't know what I was going through and yet they sent supportive messages, encouragement, and genuine praise. They wanted me to win. That was powerful.
Then the coolest thing started happening. I noticed the way people introduced me started to shift:
"This is Chloe—she's a Realtor, but she also built this beautiful house."
"She hosts incredible parties."
"She's a connector."
They saw the throughline before I fully did: real estate, design, connection, community.
When The House Started Giving Back
Even before the house felt "done," I started inviting people in.
I'd host these casual hangs called French Leave Fridays. The intention was simple: leave work early, come to the Chateau, ditch your phone, and just be present. It was an open-door kind of night, low-key, no pressure. My workaholic friends who never unplug finally had a reason to slow down. It was calm, cozy, and somehow electric at the same time.
I'll never forget this one night when time slowed, and everything felt like a movie scene. People were laughing. Connecting. Vibing. I remember standing back, just watching it unfold, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude and thinking: These moments are what life's all about.
The creatives came next.
Photographers, filmmakers, stylists, and brands—from local creators to names like James Avery—began asking to shoot at Chateau Chloe. My dream was happening in real time: their vision, inside my creation. Lights, cameras, racks of clothes, mood boards spread out on the counters. They were building their stories inside the one I had built.
It's moments like these where I think, damn, I actually did it. I saw it in my head and now it's real. My inspiration from New Orleans is rooted in resilience. It's the hardest thing I've ever done and as I write this I have a hard time remembering the struggle. It's like once you are out of the darkness you want to run as far away from it and just enjoy the light. These moments I manifested give me confidence to continue to dream big. And what comes next may be the biggest vision I've had yet!
To learn more about the design philosophy behind the house, read How New Orleans Inspired Chateau Chloe.
The Birth Of No Bad Company
Isn't it funny how your entire life experiences have led you to something profound? I look back and I think ohhh this is why I went through that. These are the lessons I had to learn so I can do this. Eighteen years in real estate, building my own home from the ground up, and slowly shaping a lifestyle brand have all led me to No Bad Company—the clearest expression of what I'm here to do.
I didn't grow up with money or a roadmap. I taught myself by putting myself in rooms with people smarter than me, finding the ones who would advocate for me, and building a business on relationships instead of transactions. Somewhere along the way I realized my real superpower: I attract good people, and I know how to build a team around a vision. That became very real while building my house. It took a small village of talented, trusted people to turn an idea into a home. It showed me how essential the right community is to getting things done and living a beautiful, meaningful life.
No Bad Company is my way of sharing that ecosystem with others. It's a lifestyle brand and a community that brings good people together in beautiful, safe spaces where they can tell their stories, find their people, and feel that spark of "I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be." I love helping people build their own worlds—from finding a home that fits their lifestyle, to shaping their personal brand, to connecting them with the people and resources that move their dreams forward.
Gratitude
My proudest accomplishment in this whole process is the team I built who made this home more beautiful than I imagined. They showed me grace in my weak moments, they valued me not only as a client but as a person putting everything on the line. Thank you to Doug and Lillie Cameron, Alexis Barry, Becky Jeans, Kerry Cole, Rebekka Glass, Edgar Galindo and every single person who has touched this project.
If You're In Your Own "Tunnel"
If you're in the middle of your own big build—a house, a business, a new version of yourself—and it feels like a tunnel right now, I see you.
The tunnel doesn't mean you're lost. It means you're focused!
It means you're building something.
Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is keep going long enough to let other people walk beside you.
Have a question? Email me!
