The Queen of Cupcakes

A vivacious people-person, Tripp, was also a high-energy businesswoman who was used to problem-solving her way out of predicaments.  But opening a new business in a major downturn was a challenge she hadn’t signed on for. To recession-proof her company, Tripp knew she had to stay lean, seize every opportunity to grow, and work her, well, buns off. She was determined to “barrel through,” because she was hungry for a change. For awhile, flipping houses had seemed the answer. She scored big on her first few sales, but when the real estate market crashed, she needed to find some other way to make a living—and a life. Around the same time, her son, then a high school junior, shocked her by saying he didn’t want to go to college. “What can I do to help him along?” Tripp wondered.

That’s when she saw a small shop’s  “For Rent” sign on the charming little square in downtown Mill Valley.   Although she says she “can’t boil water or cook to save my life,” baking was a longtime hobby, and she had a valuable stash of dessert recipes from her grandmother, like favorite family flavors coconut, lemon, and banana.  She added a rich vanilla from a friend, tweaked a Red Velvet she found on the Internet, and borrowed a carrot cake with an orange twist from a cupcake blogger.

She transformed the space, a former music store, with Will and Juliana's help. Together, they layed the laminate floor and painted the walls using locally popular, eco-friendly products.  Juliana created the shop’s website, www.frostingbakeshop.com.  Their do-it-yourself approach halved the start-up costs, Tripp estimates. “I had just built a 4000 square foot house from the ground up so this was a piece of cake,” she jokes.

With the recession nipping at her heels and constant worry about her balance-sheet, she “focused on every dime.”   She kept her overhead as low as possible: no stockpiled supplies, whether business cards or imported chocolate. She substitutes plain white boxes (fifteen cents), with the Frosting Bakeshop stamp on them (Juliana's job) instead of fancy pink, glacine-windowed ones ($1 each). She uses “cupcake currency” and trades her baked goods for local pizza and movie tickets for her kids.  Since her two year rental lease forbids baking on the premises, she shares an off-site kitchen with a tamale-maker for an extra $500 a month. Sometimes it’s  inconvenient, but the savings are huge.