Monopops didn’t start with a dream and business plan. It started with a diagnosis.

Two herniated discs. Severe spinal stenosis. Advanced arthrosis. My cervical spine—according to the doctors—looked like it belonged to someone 85 years old. I am 45.

Then came the fall hand.

The radial nerve—almost completely paralyzed. My dominant hand, once my tool for writing, making, holding—suddenly lifeless. Useless.

What do you do when something you’ve relied on your whole life stops working?

You break down—or you break through.

I chose the second.

I chose color. I chose shapes. I chose to turn my frustration into something that could speak, shine, and move—when my own hand no longer could. That’s how Monopops was born: not from perfection, but from the pure need to create.

But my story doesn’t begin with pain. It begins with play.

I grew up in a family where creativity was a natural instinct. We made things with our hands before we could even explain why. That foundation is what carried me through when everything else seemed to fall apart.

When I discovered resin, it felt like meeting a material that understood me—light, bright, bold, and imperfect. Like me. I began creating earrings that felt sculptural, joyful, and wearable—even on bad days.

And I wasn’t alone on this journey.

Fernanda, my wonderful neighbor, introduced me to Argentinian designers—especially Ivana Mendoza. Their work in featherlight leather, their clarity, their soul—it lit something in me.

So did the art of Kandinsky, Picasso, and Kobra, the Bauhaus Style. Artists who weren’t afraid to go loud, to go deep, to go colorful and emotional at once.

Monopops earrings don’t need anything else. No necklace. No sparkle overload. They’re enough. They say enough.

This brand was shaped by pain—but built with joy, resilience, and support.

To my family: thank you for raising me in a world where creativity flowed as naturally as breathing.

To my stepmother: you were the first to truly see the beauty in what I made. Your words gave me the feeling that maybe—just maybe—I was creating something worth holding onto.

To Fernanda: thank you for opening the door to a new world, and for always cheering me on from the very beginning.

To my husband: thank you for believing in this “hobby” long before it had a name. For staying by my side through surgeries, self-doubt, and all the late-night experiments that left glitter on the kitchen table.

To my friends who wear my earrings like tiny rebellions: you are my energy, my encouragement, and my favorite kind of proof that boldness belongs in everyday life.

Monopops is not just jewelry.

It’s proof that something beautiful can still come from something broken.

That even when your hand gives up—your spirit doesn’t have to.