Raised to Break the Rules

The Story Behind Junkyard Goddess

Defy the Ordinary. Unleash Your Inner Artist

I think I was raised to be a Junkyard Goddess long before I knew what one was.

I grew up in Oklahoma in the 1970s with a mother named Donelda, who wasn't particularly interested in following the rules. Especially the ones about what women were supposed to do. She rode a motorcycle. She managed a motorcycle parts department. And she knew more about motorcycles than most of the men who walked through the door. That didn't always go over so well.

Some customers would take one look at the woman behind the counter and laugh at the idea of her telling them what parts they needed. My mother had other ideas. She hadn't finished high school because she became pregnant with me, but that never stopped her from learning. She was a voracious reader who studied everything she could get her hands on. And when a man underestimated her knowledge, she'd happily talk circles around him. Eventually, those same men became loyal customers who wouldn't trust anyone else with their motorcycles.

She was sarcastic, outspoken, funny, and usually the life of the party. She had an enormous heart, sometimes to her own detriment, and she spent a lifetime learning how to stand up for herself. She was my first lesson in creative rebellion. 

And she taught me that you didn't need anyone's permission to be extraordinary.

The Kitchen Table That Started It All

We didn't have much money growing up. But we had imagination and my mother was very artistic and knew how to make the most of what we had. One day, we spotted an enormous wooden cable spool on the side of the road. Somehow, we managed to get that thing back to our apartment. We painted it all kinds of wild colors and turned it into our kitchen table. It was funky. It was outrageous. It was completely hippie. And I loved it. This was the 1970s, long before turning industrial castoffs into furniture became a decorating trend. We weren't trying to be fashionable. We needed a kitchen table, and we had an imagination.

We didn't have much money, but nobody could tell us we couldn't have something fabulous.

That philosophy stayed with me. Use what you have. Find beauty where others don't see it. Make something wonderful. And don't waste your life worrying about whether someone else approves.

From Somebody Else's Junk to Something Extraordinary

Years later, at a garage sale, I spotted an old trunk that had been set aside for the trash. It wasn't even for sale. When I asked about it, the owner laughed and joked that she'd pay me to take it away. I took it home and spent days transforming it. I painted, distressed, experimented, and poured my heart into every inch. When I finished, it was gloriously chippy, imperfect, and full of personality. Some people still thought it looked like junk. I thought it was magnificent.

I still have that trunk today. It's one of my most cherished possessions. And in many ways, it represents everything Junkyard Goddess would eventually become. Because I wasn't interested in making old furniture look new. I wanted to make it look like art.

A Mother, a Paintbrush, and a Whole Lot of Determination

About ten years ago, I was painting and selling furniture on Etsy while caring for my child. I loved taking forgotten pieces and giving them new personalities. But getting the finishes I imagined wasn't easy.

At the time, I was using enamel paint and spending endless hours trying to distress it into the beautiful, worn, old-world finishes I loved. It was hard work. Really hard work. And because I worried about paint fumes, I worked outside whenever I could. If you've ever tried painting furniture outdoors in Indiana, you know that's not exactly an ideal business plan. There had to be a better way.

So I started researching different types of paint and discovered chalk paint and milk paint. I'd never even heard of milk paint before. But something about it immediately captured my imagination. It came as a powder. You mixed it with water. You could experiment with the consistency, play with the finish, and embrace the unpredictability. There wasn't just one way to use it. I loved that. Milk paint felt less like following instructions and more like creating art.

I started Junkyard Goddess by purchasing milk paint from an established manufacturer and developing my own colors. But I wanted more. The traditional earth-toned pigments were beautiful, but they didn't give me the freedom to create all the wild, expressive colors I imagined. I wanted unexpected blues, rebellious pinks, seductive purples, and colors that made people feel something. So, I did what my mother would have done.

I decided to figure it out for myself.

The Kitchen Counter Became My Laboratory

I knew the basic ingredients in milk paint, but knowing what goes into something and knowing how to make it work are two very different things. I started experimenting at my kitchen counter. Different ingredients. Different pigments. Different proportions. One crazy recipe after another. Some worked. Plenty didn't. There were countless hours of trial and error, frustration, discovery, and starting over. Eventually, I developed my own milk paint formula and began manufacturing it myself. But I wasn't completely satisfied.

The paint was pretty good. I wanted it to be exceptional. So, about a year ago, I went back to experimenting. I challenged everything I thought I knew about my formula, explored new pigments, and worked to create the kind of milk paint I'd always wanted to use.

Today, I'm preparing to relaunch Junkyard Goddess with a completely reformulated, small-batch milk paint that I genuinely believe is the best I've ever used. And I'm excited about what it makes possible. Because I didn't spend all those years trying to create a paint that would make everyone's furniture look the same. I created it to help people discover what happens when they stop worrying about the rules.

So, What Exactly Is a Junkyard Goddess?

To me, it's someone who sees possibility where other people see junk. It's the woman who drags a discarded dresser home because she can already imagine what it might become. It's the person who chooses the wild pink instead of the safe beige. It's someone who paints an old table turquoise just because turquoise makes them happy. It's the artist who experiments, makes mistakes, changes direction, and creates something nobody else would have thought of. And you don't need to know the first thing about painting furniture to become one. You just have to be willing to try.

Today, Junkyard Goddess makes small-batch milk paints, hemp waxes, oils, and creative finishes designed to encourage that freedom. I believe in thoughtful ingredients, giving old things new lives, and making products that are kinder to our homes and environment. But those aren't the only reasons Junkyard Goddess exists. 

Because I'm not just selling paint. I'm selling freedom.

Freedom to experiment. Freedom to make mistakes. Freedom to break the rules, trust your instincts, and create something that makes you ridiculously happy. I'm celebrating women who make their own rules, women who are just beginning to discover their creative confidence, and the men who encourage and create alongside them. I'm selling the idea that your home should tell your story, not look like a furniture showroom. And I'm celebrating the beautifully imperfect things that make us who we are.

For My Mother

If you've looked at the new names of my paint colors, you might have wondered where they come from. They're not random. They're little celebrations of attitude, personality, independence, and all the wonderful contradictions that make us human. And so many of them remind me of my mother. She could be sweet and rebellious, fearless and vulnerable, funny and infuriating, generous to a fault, and determined to have the last word. She was never just one thing. And neither are we.

There's one color in particular that means the world to me. It's called Bad Bitch.

My mother spent much of her life trying to become the kind of woman nobody would dare mess with. She had the knowledge, the courage, the wit, and the attitude. But her enormous heart sometimes made it difficult to put herself first. She worked hard at becoming that woman. And she was so proud of the progress she'd made. So Bad Bitch is for her. I have a feeling she's smiling about that one.

A Little Paint. A Little Courage. A Whole Lot of Freedom.

When I think about the life my mother gave me, I don't think about what we couldn't afford. I think about that wildly painted cable spool sitting in our kitchen. I think about the woman behind the motorcycle parts counter who refused to be intimidated. I think about a discarded trunk that became a treasure. I think about all the beautiful things that can happen when someone gives themselves permission to be creative.

That's the spirit behind every batch of Junkyard Goddess paint. Because you don't need a lot of money to have a beautiful home. You don't need an art degree to be an artist. And you certainly don't need anyone else's permission to create something that makes you happy.

That's what freedom looks like to me.

Defy the Ordinary. Unleash Your Inner Artist.

— Michelle Dolon
Founder, Junkyard Goddess