A Alphabet, controladora do Google, concordou em criar um negócio de computação em nuvem voltado à inteligência artificial em parceria com a Blackstone, em uma tentativa de competir com empresas como a CoreWeave em um mercado em rápida expansão.
O projeto contará com um aporte inicial de US$ 5 bilhões em capital próprio da Blackstone, que será a acionista majoritária da nova empresa, segundo comunicado divulgado nesta segunda-feira. Considerando alavancagem financeira, o investimento total chegará a US$ 25 bilhões, de acordo com uma pessoa familiarizada com o assunto.
A meta é alcançar, até 2027, uma capacidade computacional equivalente a 500 megawatts. Os data centers utilizarão os chips de inteligência artificial desenvolvidos pelo próprio Google, chamados tensor processing units (TPUs), projetados para treinar e operar modelos de IA. O veterano executivo do Google Benjamin Treynor Sloss assumirá como CEO da nova companhia.
O movimento reforça o boom global de investimentos em infraestrutura computacional, base dos modelos e serviços de inteligência artificial. O Google vem expandindo sua linha de chips de IA e buscando capacidade adicional de data centers para acomodá-los, em resposta ao aumento da demanda tanto de usuários internos quanto de clientes externos.
A nova empresa competirá com as chamadas “neoclouds”, como CoreWeave e Nebius, que oferecem poder computacional para provedores de serviços de IA. Muitas delas têm apoio da Nvidia e utilizam as GPUs da fabricante, unidades de processamento gráfico voltadas a inteligência artificial.
No início deste mês, a Blackstone realizou a oferta pública inicial da Blackstone Digital Infrastructure Trust, veículo de aquisição de data centers criado para comprar propriedades já construídas e alugadas que se beneficiam do boom da inteligência artificial.
A Blackstone, que administra mais de US$ 1,3 trilhão em ativos, se apresenta como a maior fornecedora global de data centers. A gestora adquiriu a operadora de data centers QTS em 2021 e comprou a empresa australiana de computação AirTrunk em 2024.
O Google já desponta como um dos maiores beneficiados pela onda de investimentos em inteligência artificial. As receitas de sua divisão de computação em nuvem aceleram fortemente, enquanto seus próprios serviços de IA ganham adesão entre consumidores.
Meta previously announced it will cut 10% of its staff next month.
Meta's HR chief told staff in a meeting that she can't promise further layoffs won't happen.
She added that the business is strong and acknowledged that morale has been affected at Meta.
Meta plans to lay off around 10% of its staff next month, and it told staff it's not ruling out deeper cuts.
That's what Janelle Gale, Meta's chief people officer, told employees in an internal meeting on Thursday, according to three sources on the call.
"Will there be more layoffs? The question always comes up. I'd love to say that there are no more layoffs, but I can't say something we can't deliver," Gale said during the meeting. "While the business is strong, priorities change, competition is fierce, and we will continue to manage our costs responsibly."
She said this means that Meta will "continue to evolve teams as needed" and "try to redeploy talent." She pointed to how Meta is investing in its Applied AI organization.
Gale added that some organizations would be more affected by layoffs than others, though she did not specify which.
Meta leaders also said during the meeting that AI token usage would not be considered as a factor for the layoffs.
Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg also addressed the layoffs at the meeting, saying that AI automation is not the driving factor behind them. He said that AI has made small teams far more efficient.
During the call, Zuckerberg also addressed Meta's plan to monitor employees' keystrokes and mouse movements to improve its AI models. He said humans are not actually watching what the staff are doing and that this data is abstracted and used to improve AI.
Meta AI Chief Alexandr Wang also appeared at the meeting, sporting a camouflage-pattern T-shirt featuring multiple deer, according to a photo seen by Business Insider. During the Q&A, he praised Meta's latest AI prowess, notably the recent release of its Spark model.
Meta declined to comment for this article.
Reuters reported in March that Meta plans to cut about 20% of its total staff this year.
Given the looming layoffs, Gale said at the meeting that they hit morale at Meta, and the company tries to make tough situations like that "the best version possible." She added that Meta has tripled COBRA healthcare coverage to 18 months.
Meta CFO Susan Li previously said during its first quarter earnings call on Wednesday that she "doesn't really know" the ideal size of the company's head count, which runs at above 77,000. Meta announced that its infrastructure spend, largely for AI, is doubling this year, to a range of $125 billion to $145 billion.
The Cheesecake Factory has one of the largest menus in American dining, with over 250 items as varied as pasta, tacos, sushi, and of course, dozens of cheesecakes. And it makes nearly everything fresh daily. It's a big undertaking during a time when many restaurant chains are cutting dishes from their menus as ingredient prices soar. But the Cheesecake Factory makes it work. It cashes in more money per restaurant than most of its casual chain competitors like Chili's and Applebee's. We went behind the scenes to see how the Cheesecake Factory consistently executes such a massive menu and makes it profitable.
Sen. Joni Ernst, entertainer Chris Brown, and Sen. Ed Markey.
Anna Moneymaker/Getty; Prince Williams/WireImage; Anna Moneymaker/Getty
Senators advanced a bill that would give prosecutors more time to bring pandemic fraud cases.
They cited Business Insider's reporting on potential misuse of Shuttered Venue Operators Grant funds.
The Small Business Administration says 69% of the $14.6 billion SVOG program may have been misspent.
Lawmakers just came closer to giving US prosecutors more time to pursue billions of dollars in suspected pandemic-aid fraud tied to restaurants and live entertainment — and cited Business Insider's investigation into how those funds were used by celebrities.
Senators passed a long-delayed bill on Wednesday night that would extend the statute of limitations for fraud tied to two relief programs: the $28.6 billion Restaurant Revitalization Fund and the $14.6 billion Shuttered Venue Operators Grant.
The bill would put the programs on the same legal footing as bigger, better-known pandemic aid packages that lost as much as $200 billion to fraud, like the Paycheck Protection Program. If it becomes law, prosecutors will have 10 years to bring charges of defrauding the programs, instead of the usual five.
Earlier this week, the Government Accountability Office reported that as much as $10 billion from SVOG funds may have been improperly paid out, which is more than 200 times larger than a fraud estimate the Small Business Administration published three years ago.
Business Insider previously reported that hundreds of millions of dollars were paid out to successful artists like Lil Wayne, Post Malone, metal legends Alice in Chains, and DJs including Steve Aoki and Marshmello. They used the money on private jets, luxury clothes, and payments to themselves, according to the investigation.
Sen. Joni Ernst, an Iowa Republican who has been the bill's main advocate, invoked that reporting in remarks on the Senate floor on Wednesday.
"For fraudsters, time flies when you're having fun," she said. "Look no further than rapper Chris Brown, who exploited the SVOG program to pay for his lavish $80,000 birthday party and paid himself $5 million in the process."
Lawyers and representatives for Brown didn't respond to requests for comment. Previously, in response to Business Insider's late 2024 investigation, an attorney for the accounting and wealth management firm that helped Brown's company get a federal grant, NKSFB, called Business Insider's questions "uninformed" and didn't answer them.
COVID fraud cases get more time
The bill passed with an amendment that would require enforcement to be "carried out in a nonpartisan manner," said Sen. Ed Markey, the top Democrat on the small-business committee that Ernst chairs.
The SBA has said that 70% of the restaurant support funds paid out by the RRF program were proper, but that it's "unknown" whether the remaining $8.7 billion was legally paid to eligible recipients. The agency's inspector general previously said more than $6 billion was paid out without doing enough to verify that recipients qualified for the money.
The agency has previously defended cutting checks under the shuttered venues program to "loan-out companies" used by big-name artists to ink performance deals.
Recipients included Broadway shows, arts companies, and cultural institutions that asked Congress for help paying bills they'd run up during the year-plus when public gatherings were limited because of the COVID-19 pandemic. The law also allowed payments to lesser-known groups, like talent agents.
There was no requirement that recipients be on the brink of bankruptcy. One Texas concert promoter received a $10 million grant in July 2021. About four months later, he bought a home for $2.1 million in cash.
The law creating SVOG allowed grant recipients to use the money for a broad range of purposes, including expenses deemed "ordinary and necessary" as well as compensation to the owners of for-profit businesses that received the money.
The new estimate of $10 billion in payment errors amounts to about two-thirds of the program's entire budget. SBA officials said that $4.5 billion of that was overpayments to businesses that "did not align with the established statutory guidelines" for payment. They also found errors with the monitoring of recipients' spending.
In 2023, the Biden administration said that one-third of 1% of the entertainment grants were "likely fraudulent." Government watchdogs say only some "improper payments" amount to fraud, so the new number isn't an apples-to-apples comparison with the 2023 figure.
More than 2,000 people have been sentenced for defrauding pandemic aid programs. The SBA inspector general has said many more cases are pending.
Mais de 500 funcionários do Google assinaram nesta segunda-feira, 27, uma carta aberta ao CEO, Sundar Pichai, pedindo que ele se recuse a permitir que o governo dos Estados Unidos use a tecnologia de inteligência artificial (IA) da empresa em operações militares sigilosas.
“Queremos ver a IA beneficiar a humanidade, e não ser usada de maneiras desumanas ou extremamente prejudiciais”, diz a carta, enviada a Pichai. “Isso inclui armas autônomas letais e vigilância em massa, mas vai além.”
“A única forma de garantir que o Google não seja associado a esse tipo de dano é rejeitar qualquer trabalho classificado”, prossegue o texto. “Caso contrário, esses usos podem ocorrer sem o nosso conhecimento ou sem que tenhamos poder para impedi-los.”
Após um conflito entre o Pentágono e a Anthropic, grandes empresas de tecnologia estão sob pressão para definir uma posição sobre o uso militar e de seus produtos de IA.
A corrida por ações da Anthropic está tão frenética nas últimas semanas que o banqueiro Storm Duncan, fundador do banco de investimentos focado em tecnologia Ignatious, resolveu adotar uma tática inusitada.
Duncan decidiu oferecer sua mansão em Marin County, na Califórnia, avaliada em quase R$ 25 milhões, em troca de ações da companhia, segundo o Business Insider.
A oferta vem após o valuation da Anthropic chegar a US$ 1 trilhão, motivada por investidores que ficaram impressionados com o crescimento de receita após o lançamento do assistente de IA Claude.
A propriedade, que tem mais de 50 mil metros quadrados, tem uma piscina de borda infinita com vista para São Francisco e um spa completo. Além disso, segundo Duncan, está a “20 minutos dos escritórios da Anthropic na cidade.”
Com a oferta de troca, o empresário espera chamar a atenção de funcionários da empresa que têm ações para vender. Ele afirma que já teve diversas propostas e insiste que a proposta é real.
Questionado sobre o motivo de ele não simplesmente comprar ações, ele explica que, como um investidor pequeno, ele jamais seria capaz de conseguir os papéis diretamente.
Duncan já têm ações da Anthropic que ele adquiriu em 2024, quando era muito mais fácil de consegui-las. Ele reforça que agora gostaria de reforçar seu portfólio depois de ficar impressionado com os resultados da ferramenta de IA Claude.
Quando os dois filhos de Justin Finn, que estão no ensino fundamental, chegam em casa, eles não ligam a TV nem pegam um iPad. Em vez disso, vão direto para o telefone — não um smartphone, mas um telefone fixo. As chamadas chegam em um aparelho cor creme chamado Tin Can, um dispositivo inspirado em telefones fixos, com conexão Wi-Fi, que custa US$ 100 e viralizou nos últimos doze meses.
“Não é incomum o telefone começar a tocar poucos minutos depois”, conta Finn. “Existe um entusiasmo real em torno dele que não vimos com muitas outras novidades dentro de casa.”
Desde o lançamento, em abril de 2025, o aparelho de estilo retrô se tornou um sucesso, com centenas de milhares de unidades vendidas, principalmente graças à recomendação boca a boca, segundo a empresa.
Isso apesar de um marketing limitado e de um volume relativamente pequeno de captação, incluindo US$ 3,5 milhões durante o verão e uma rodada seed de US$ 12 milhões em dezembro, liderada pela Greylock Partners.
Aposta no básico
O Tin Can é conectado à tomada e inclui viva-voz, botões de discagem rápida e secretária eletrônica. O telefone, que também é vendido em várias cores vibrantes, permite fazer chamadas gratuitas entre aparelhos Tin Can e para serviços de emergência.
Os usuários também podem pagar US$ 10 por mês para ligar e receber chamadas de números externos aprovados pelos pais. O dispositivo está disponível nos Estados Unidos e no Canadá.
O Tin Can encontrou boa receptividade em um momento em que pais, educadores e legisladores buscam alternativas ao uso constante de telas. Países ao redor do mundo estudam restringir redes sociais para jovens após a Austrália aprovar uma proibição para menores de 16 anos.
Nos EUA, por sua vez, Meta e o Google, da Alphabet, perderam no mês passado um caso judicial emblemático em Los Angeles, movido por uma jovem de 20 anos que afirmou que o vício nessas plataformas alimentou problemas de saúde mental.
A família Finn recebeu o Tin Can gratuitamente como parte de uma iniciativa liderada por pais na Nativity Parish School, nos arredores de Kansas City — uma entre um número crescente de escolas que estão distribuindo o dispositivo a alunos na tentativa de conter a dependência de redes sociais desde cedo.
Escolas e pais entram na onda
Pedidos de escolas estão entre os segmentos de mercado que mais crescem para o Tin Can, segundo a empresa sediada em Seattle. A startup afirmou à Bloomberg News que tem visto uma “demanda avassaladora” por parte de instituições de ensino, com milhares de administradores nos EUA considerando compras em massa e coordenando como integrar suas comunidades à rede.
Na Nativity Parish School, cerca de 95% das famílias do jardim de infância ao quinto ano aderiram. Os alunos sabem para quem ligar anotando números em um diretório de papel — uma referência a como as pessoas faziam no século passado quando queriam telefonar para alguém.
Tracy Foster, mãe de dois alunos da escola, liderou a iniciativa.
“Para muitas pessoas, é difícil manter as crianças longe dos smartphones na prática, mas programas como esse dão mais ferramentas para que sintam que conseguem fazer isso”, afirmou. Tracy acrescentou que é mais fácil adiar o uso de smartphones para um grupo inteiro do que apenas para uma ou outra criança.
Foster afirmou que desde então recebeu mais de cem pedidos de pais interessados em replicar o programa em suas próprias escolas.
Em todo o país, a St. James’ Episcopal School, em Los Angeles, planeja distribuir um Tin Can para cada uma de suas 220 famílias na saída das aulas. A expectativa é que os alunos usem os aparelhos durante as longas férias de verão.
“Queremos que nossos alunos continuem conectados entre si e usem essa opção em vez de mensagens em grupo ou outras formas de contato que podem, às vezes, gerar sentimentos ruins ou fazer alguém se sentir excluído”, disse Jules Leyser, diretor de desenvolvimento e comunicação da escola.
O CEO Chet Kittleson, de 38 anos, fundou a Tin Can há cerca de um ano e meio em resposta à ansiedade que sentia ao organizar encontros pós-escola para seus filhos. Crescendo nos anos 1990, ele percebeu, o telefone fixo era sua rede social.
Ele acredita que a forma como as crianças se comunicam hoje — por mensagens de texto ou chamadas de vídeo — prejudica o desenvolvimento de habilidades de comunicação. Todos deveriam saber “lidar com o silêncio de uma maneira significativamente diferente”, disse, referindo-se às pausas naturais em conversas por voz.
Finn afirmou que percebeu rapidamente avanços significativos no comportamento dos filhos. “Eles são mais cuidadosos ao falar, melhores ouvintes e, no geral, mais confiantes”, disse. No entanto, seu filho do jardim de infância aprendeu da forma difícil que o número de emergência 911 funciona no Tin Can, o que resultou em uma visita surpresa à porta da família.
Kittleson atribui o sucesso inicial do Tin Can ao boca a boca e a uma crescente desconfiança em relação aos smartphones, combinada com a nostalgia de pais da geração X e dos millennials.
“Poderíamos ter criado um dispositivo moderno com aparência infantilizada”, disse Kittleson. “Mas eu queria algo imediatamente reconhecível para o comprador — o pai ou a mãe —, algo intuitivo que lembrasse uma infância mais simples, porque é isso que todos estamos buscando. Isso ajudou muito no nosso crescimento rápido.”
Segundo ele, o maior desafio agora é acompanhar o crescimento acelerado, contratar rapidamente, investir em infraestrutura e manter um serviço confiável que consiga escalar. Após um pico de instalações no dia de Natal, a empresa enfrentou falhas nos servidores e pediu desculpas pela instabilidade.
“Nosso trabalho é entregar um produto e um serviço realmente bons e confiáveis”, disse. “Acho que vamos conseguir – e chegar lá de forma sustentável”.
Assista ao episódio completo no nosso canal do Youtube
O mercado de meios de pagamento vive uma transformação acelerada no Brasil. Pix, Open Finance, novas regras do Banco Central e a digitalização do varejo mudaram o jogo. Em meio a esse cenário competitivo, a Ceopag avança em ritmo próprio. Segundo seu fundador, Kawel Lotti, a companhia cresce acima de 5% ao mês e prepara uma nova ofensiva focada em regiões menos atendidas pelo sistema bancário tradicional.
A estratégia da empresa mira um espaço deixado pelo fechamento de agências físicas em cidades menores e áreas afastadas dos grandes centros. A proposta é transformar maquininhas em hubs de serviços financeiros e utilidades.
“Nós queremos e vamos lançar uma aplicação que oferece mais de 80% de uma agência bancária numa máquina para um lojista”, afirmou Kawel Lotti, CEO da empresa.
Hoje, a operação reúne 97 colaboradores, mais de 700 unidades franqueadas e 420 operações white label, modelo em que outras marcas utilizam a infraestrutura tecnológica da companhia para oferecer soluções próprias ao mercado.
Lotti participou do programa Do Zero ao Topo. Neste episódio, que tem apoio de XP Empresas, o executivo fala como transformou crise em oportunidade, os bastidores do mercado de maquininhas, franquias e os próximos passos da empresa.
A expansão da Ceopag passa por ampliar a rentabilidade dos lojistas parceiros. Em vez de vender apenas captura de pagamentos, a empresa quer embarcar novos produtos na base instalada.
“Já lançamos a telemedicina e o televeterinário direto na máquina. É uma forma de oferecer esse lojista uma solução de meios de pagamento”, disse o executivo.
Segundo ele, a lógica é simples. O comerciante deixa de ganhar apenas com vendas tradicionais e passa a participar de receitas recorrentes geradas dentro do ecossistema da plataforma.
“Se ele vende um plano de telemedicina no interior do Maranhão, a pessoa compra, paga, recebe um login no WhatsApp e pode consultar na hora, 24 horas por dia, 7 dias por semana, consultas ilimitadas, com apenas um custo pequeno, como se fosse o Netflix da saúde”, revela.
Na prática, a maquininha deixa de ser apenas um hardware transacional e passa a operar como marketplace de serviços financeiros e digitais. A tese ganha relevância principalmente em cidades onde a presença bancária diminuiu e o varejo local segue como ponto central da economia.
Além da frente comercial, a empresa também reforça a estrutura regulatória e de governança. “A gente tá hoje numa fase constante de crescimento comercial, mas também de adaptação a tudo aquilo que se espera de uma fintech, de uma empresa séria, que tem boa governança corporativa”, afirmou Kawel.
O executivo destaca que o momento exige velocidade sem abrir mão de controles internos e segurança operacional. “Somos mais ágeis, porque é cultura do dono, senso de urgência, atender bem, atender correto e fazer bem feito”, conclui.
O podcast Do Zero ao Topo é uma produção do InfoMoney e traz, a cada semana, a história de mulheres e homens de destaque no mercado brasileiro para contar a sua história, compartilhando os maiores desafios enfrentados ao longo do caminho e as principais estratégias usadas na construção do negócio.
Em muitos negócios, o erro custa caro. Em alguns casos, além de pesar no bolso pode vir acompanhado de um risco real de quebra. Foi esse o cenário enfrentado pela Cheirin Bão antes de sua virada.
“Crescemos muito rápido. No início, houve uma rampagem muito grande. E consumimos muito caixa para finalidades extra empresa. Gastamos milhões até aprender”, diz Wilton Bezerra, sócio-fundador e CEO da rede.
A fala resume um período de decisões equivocadas e crescimento desordenado –segundo ele, um erro clássico e muito comum entre empreendedores em expansão.
A Cheirin Bão é hoje uma das maiores redes de cafeterias do Brasil, com mais de 800 lojas e um faturamento, que em 2026, deve superar os R$ 500 mil. A empresa renasceu há dez anos com a liderança de Eduardo Schroeder e Wilton Bezerra, espalhando o gostinho mineiro pelo país e mirando, agora, em uma expansão internacional.
Em entrevista para Mariana Amaro, em mais um episódio Do Zero ao Topo, Wilton Bezerra falou sobre como quase quebrou, a decisão radical durante a pandemia e como transformou uma marca problemática em um negócio de sucesso.
O principal erro, segundo Wilton, foi clássico e comum entre empreendedores em fase de expansão: “Quando estava tudo bem, estávamos usando o dinheiro para outras finalidades. E quando ficava mal, tínhamos que recorrer a crédito — e crédito, no Brasil, custa caro. Uma coisa é você tomar crédito para desenvolver o negócio. Outra coisa é fazer isso para cobrir rombo de caixa”, diz Bezerra.
Em 2019, a empresa já estava altamente alavancada. Quando a pandemia chegou, o cenário se agravou rapidamente. Foi nesse contexto que veio a decisão que mudaria o rumo da empresa.
Wilton e seu sócio decidiram operar de forma radical. Eles cortaram os próprios salários e passaram a depender exclusivamente de novos resultados. “Decidimos: a partir de hoje, mudamos todo o nosso jeito de fazer negócio. Agora, vamos ter que viver de dinheiro novo. Só vamos ganhar dinheiro na empresa, mesmo sendo dono dela, se criarmos negócios e produtos que deem mais dinheiro do que atualmente”, lembra o CEO.
A mudança de postura e pensamento não era tão comum, mas, para a época da pandemia fazia sentido e foi, inclusive, decisiva para saúde da empresa.
“Situações extremas pedem medidas extremas. Isso nos deu uma força de vender mais, de criar mais produtos, de homologar mais fornecedores, de vender mais produto e de motivar o franqueado a vender mais. E o fizemos também nos educou e fez com que olhássemos para o negócio de uma maneira diferente”, revela.
Esse movimento marcou o início de uma nova fase para Cheirin Bão: enquanto todo mundo pisava no freio, a empresa investiu e lançou novos produtos, reforçou o apoio aos franqueados e fez uma aposta ousada em marketing, incluindo uma parceria com Michel Teló.
“Quando vem uma crise, alguém tem que ter coragem de fazer as pessoas tirarem o olho da crise e olhar para a luz. Quando isso passar, nós já vamos estar do outro lado do rio e as pessoas vão estar pensando em pular. E foi exatamente o que acabou acontecendo. Aquele ato de coragem ali foi muito importante. Acho até que essa é uma característica que o empreendedor tem que ter”, afirma o CEO.
O podcast Do Zero ao Topo é uma produção do InfoMoney e traz, a cada semana, a história de mulheres e homens de destaque no mercado brasileiro para contar a sua história, compartilhando os maiores desafios enfrentados ao longo do caminho e as principais estratégias usadas na construção do negócio.
A Multiplan tem ganhado participação nas vendas totais do setor de shoppings no Brasil. A companhia divulgou nesta terça-feira – durante reunião pública com investidores e analistas – que sua fatia de mercado evoluiu de 8,5% em 2019 para 12,9% em 2025.
“O ganho de market share é reflexo do fortalecimento do nosso portfólio, de uma gestão ativa do mix e da busca do consumidor por ativos de maior qualidade”, afirmou o presidente da Multiplan, Eduardo Peres.
Segundo a empresa, há uma mudança no comportamento dos consumidores e dos lojistas, que vêm priorizado os shoppings dominantes. Esse movimento, chamado pelo jargão de ‘flight to quality’ (migração para ativos de maior qualidade), reflete a preferência por empreendimentos de maior porte, em localizações centrais e um mix diversificado de lojas e serviços.
O movimento se intensificou desde a eclosão da pandemia. De 2020 (ano em que o comércio foi fechado) a 2025 (plena normalidade das operações), as vendas do setor como um todo tiveram um crescimento nominal de 56% (passando de R$ 128,8 bilhões para R$ 200,9 bilhões). Por sua vez, as vendas dos lojistas da rede da Multiplan avançaram 151% (de R$ 10,3 bilhões para R$ 25,9 bilhões)
“A companhia se descolou. Ela cresceu em vendas mais fortemente, muito acima da média do setor”, complementou o vice-presidente financeiro e de relações com investidores, Armando D’Almeida.
Durante a apresentação pública, a Multiplan reiterou a estratégia de priorizar a melhoria dos shoppings do grupo por meio de investimento na revitalização dos empreendimentos – troca de acabamento, paisagismo, climatização, mobiliário, sistemas de elétrica e hidráulica etc – e ampliação da sua área comercial. Nos últimos anos, foram aportados cerca de R$ 3,0 bilhões nessas iniciativas.
Esse investimento têm gerado um retorno concreto para a empresa, apontou o vice-Presidente de Operações da Multiplan, Marcelo Martins. Durante a apresentação, ele deu exemplo do retorno obtido com uma leva recente de revitalizações que abrangeu os shoppings New York City Center, Barra Shopping, Park Barigui, Diamond Mall e Pátio Savassi.
Juntos, eles receberam investimentos de R$ 248,6 milhões entre 2023 e 2025 para revitalizações diversas. Como resposta, o aluguel obtido nesses empreendimentos aumentou R$ 23,8 milhões (sem contar inflação) no último ano, o que representou um yield real do aluguel de 9,6%. “Além de termos espaço mais atrativos e modernos para os consumidores, tivemos crescimento de vendas e da receita de aluguel”, destacou Martins.
Crescimento no longo prazo
Peres voltou a dizer que uma aceleração no volume de investimentos depende de maior clareza sobre os rumos do País após as eleições. Segundo ele, é preciso haver um equilíbrio nas contas públicas e redução dos juros básicos da economia.
“Precisamos entender se quem vai assumir vai ter responsabilidade com corte de despesas”, disse Peres. Se não houver uma melhora do cenário, Peres citou que um eventual incremento na remuneração aos acionistas (payout) é uma opção que poderia ser considerada.
Na sua visão, quem acelerar os investimentos agora pode até mesmo ter dificuldades caso o Brasil atravesse um período de corte de despesas públicas, o que pode gerar eventuais impactos nos níveis de consumo.
O vice-presidente financeiro e de relações com investidores, Armando D’Almeida, defendeu a visão de que o Brasil ainda tem potencial para ganhar novos shoppings. Ele citou que o País tem apenas 3,2 shoppings a cada um milhão de habitantes – essa média é apenas a décima entre os países da América Latina, ficando muito atrás do topo da lista, que tem Colômbia (5,1), México (7,6) e Porto Rico (20,6). “O Brasil ainda tem uma baixa penetração de shopping”, declarou.
A empresa também abriu o potencial de crescimento do seu conjunto de empreendimentos imobiliários ao longo do tempo, envolvendo shoppings, escritórios e terrenos. Ao todo, há espaço para 157,3 mil m² de expansões; 864 mil m² de projetos multiuso; e 1,48 milhão de m² de área computável.
Próximos projetos
Neste momento, a Multiplan tem mais três shoppings com obras de expansão já sendo executadas e com as entregas das novas áreas programadas para 2026. São eles: BH Shopping (primeiro semestre), Barra Shopping e Park Shopping Brasília (ambos no segundo semestre). Juntos, eles terão mais 13 mil m², o equivalente a cerca de 70 novas lojas.
Além disso, a companhia estuda o lançamento dos projetos de expansão de mais três shoppings: São Caetano, Jundiaí e BH, totalizando mais 30 mil m².
Na parte de incorporação imobiliária, a Multiplan prepara o lançamento, em junho, do residencial Lake Baikal, condomínio com duas torres e um valor geral de vendas (VGV) de R$ 400 milhões. O residencial faz parte do bairro privativo chamado Golden Lake, em Porto Alegre.
The company says it is now focusing on the luxury sector.
Saks Global, the bankrupt company behind Saks Fifth Avenue, Neiman Marcus, and Bergdorf Goodman, is continuing to close stores.
In March, the company said it would close 10 Saks Fifth Avenue and two Neiman Marcus locations. The news came after a February announcement that it would close eight Saks Fifth Avenue stores and one Neiman Marcus, as well as nearly all of its Saks Off Fifth and Neiman Marcus Last Call locations.
Following the closures, only 15 Saks Fifth Avenue locations will remain open, according to an updated press release. Thirty-three Neiman Marcus stores will continue operating, the company said.
"Our go-forward store portfolio will comprise the best performing and most desirable locations in markets with the highest concentration of luxury customers," Geoffroy van Raemdonck, Saks Global's new CEO, said in a statement announcing the closures.
Word of the latest wave of closures came with some good news for the company: More than 500 brands have resumed shipping to Saks' retailers after the company had struggled with inventory for months.
"The Company has reached or nearly reached agreements with more than 175 brands across all categories," the statement said.
In January, Saks Global filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection following a year marked by missed payments and restructuring. The company owes hundreds of millions of dollars to brands like Chanel and LVMH.
As part of its turnaround plan, Saks said in January that it was "sharpening its focus on luxury" and would close the majority of its discount stores.
Saks Off 5th's website, a separate legal entity from Saks Global, hosted a liquidation sale and is shutting down.
Earlier in January, Saks shut down a facility in Florida and said it would lay off at least 74 positions.
Here is the full list of Saks Fifth Avenue, Saks Off 5th, Neiman Marcus, and Last Call locations closing:
Saks Fifth Avenue locations closing:
1. The Summit (Birmingham, AL)
2. Polaris Fashion Place (Columbus, OH)
3. American Dream (East Rutherford, NJ)
4. Shops at Canal Place (New Orleans, LA)
5. Bala Plaza (Philadelphia, PA)
6. Biltmore Fashion Park (Phoenix, AZ)
7. Stony Point Fashion Park (Richmond, VA)
8. Utica Square (Tulsa, OK)
9. Beachwood Place (Beachwood, OH)
10. Wisconsin Avenue (Chevy Chase, MD)
11. Michigan Avenue (Chicago, IL)
12. South Coast Plaza (Costa Mesa, CA)
13. Las Vegas Boulevard (Las Vegas, NV)
14. Long Island (Huntington Station, NY)
15. Triangle Town Center (Raleigh, NC)
16. North Star Mall (San Antonio, TX)
17. Plaza Frontenac (St. Louis, MO)
18. Tysons Galleria (Tysons, VA)
Neiman Marcus locations closing:
1. Copley Place (Boston, MA)
2. Ala Moana (Honolulu, HI)
3. Topanga (Canyon Park, CA)
Saks Off 5th locations closing
1. Mebane (Mebane, NC)
2. Charleston (Charleston, SC)
3. Grand Prairie (Grand Prairie, TX)
4. Ala Moana (Honolulu, HI)
5. Petaluma (Petaluma, CA)
6. Glendale (Glendale, AZ)
7. Tucson (Tucson, AZ)
8. Merrimack (Merrimack, NH)
9. Riverhead (Riverhead, NY)
10. Clinton (Clinton, CT)
11. North Atlanta (Woodstock, GA)
12. Aurora Chicago (Aurora, IL)
13. Dallas Park (Dallas, TX)
14. Northbrook (Northbrook, IL)
15. Eagan (Eagan, MN)
16. Columbus (Columbus, OH)
17. San Diego (San Diego, CA)
18. Camarillo (Camarillo, CA)
19. Ontario (Ontario, CA)
20. Milpitas (Milpitas, CA) 21. State Street (Chicago, IL)
22. Stamford High Ridge (Stamford, CT)
23. Greenburgh (Greenburgh, NY)
24. Arundel (Hanover, MD)
25. Hawaii (Honolulu, HI)
26. Palm Desert (Palm Desert, CA)
27. Scottsdale (Scottsdale, AZ)
28. Phoenix (Chandler, AZ)
29. Eastchester (Eastchester, NY)
30. Bridgewater (Bridgewater, NJ)
31. Clarksburg (Clarksburg, MD)
32. Deer Park (Deer Park, NY)
33. Shrewsbury (Shrewsbury, NJ)
34. Elizabeth (Elizabeth, NJ)
35. Boston (Somerville, MA)
36. Wrentham (Wrentham, MA)
37. Orlando Vineland (Vineland, FL)
38. Naples Park Shore (Naples, FL)
39. Orlando (Orlando, FL)
40. Tampa (Lutz, FL)
41. Ellenton (Ellenton (Tampa), FL)
42. Destin (Destin, FL)
43. Charlotte (Charlotte, NC)
44. Atlanta (Woodstock, GA)
45. Hilton Head (Bluffton, SC)
46. Rosemont (Rosemont, IL)
47. Cypress (Cypress, TX)
48. Sugarland (Sugarland, TX)
49. Katy (Katy, TX)
50. Costa Mesa (Costa Mesa, CA)
51. Beverly Connection (Los Angeles, CA)
52. Woodland Hills (Woodland Hills, CA)
53. Las Vegas N (Las Vegas, NV)
54. Livermore (Livermore, CA)
55. San Antonio (San Antonio, TX)
56. Cabazon (Cabazon, CA)
57. Las Vegas S (Las Vegas, NV)
Last Call locations closing:
1. Sawgrass Mills (Sunrise, FL)
2. Desert Hills Premium Outlets (Cabazon, CA)
3. Grapevine Mills (Grapevine, TX)
4. San Marcos Premium Outlets (San Marcos, TX)
5. The Outlets at Orange (Orange, CA)
Update: April 7, 2026 — This story has been updated to include the latest number of Saks Fifth Avenue locations that will remain open.
Jatee Kearsley's bakery, Je T'aime Patisserie, gained fame after a viral feature on Righteous Eats.
Going viral changed the trajectory of her business but took a toll on her mental health.
Kearsley says she wouldn't want to go viral again, even though that may sound ungrateful.
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Jatee Kearsley, the owner and pastry chef of Je T'aime Patisserie, which offers a "Black girl twist" on French pastries in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. It has been edited for length and clarity.
In April 2024, I sat in my bakery with my Bible study group and told them I had $2,000 in my bank account and no idea how I was going to pay my employees the next day.
When I opened my bakery a year prior, I knew it would be hard. I had taken out loans. I had put in my own savings. I understood that small businesses require money for everything: rent, ingredients, payroll, insurance, and taxes.
Still, nothing prepares you for sitting in your own store and realizing you might not be able to cover payroll. Then, the day after meeting with my Bible study group, everything changed.
We were featured on Righteous Eats, a social media feed run by Jaeki Cho and Brian Lee that features New York City restaurants. The video went viral, and by the following weekend, my bank account looked completely different.
Going viral was a blessing. I will never pretend it wasn't. It changed the trajectory of my business. However, I don't think people talk enough about what going viral does to your mental health.
For me mentally, I don't want to go viral again. That might sound ungrateful, but it's honest.
Going viral didn't make the work easier
Kearsley makes every croissant from scratch.
Business Insider
On a normal day before going viral, my team and I of about four, were making, on average, 200 croissants a week. After we went viral, demand shot up to about 200 croissants every other day.
I specifically remember selling four chocolate croissants the day before going viral and then 30 the day of. We make all types of croissants from scratch: chocolate, almond, ham and cheese, blueberry cheesecake, and more.
Croissants from Kearsley's bakery.
Business Insider
We laminate the dough, hand-roll each one, proof them, bake them, and fill them. Going viral didn't make our team any bigger, and I had to loop in friends, family, and volunteers to help fill orders and deliveries.
There were weekends when it was just me and one other person in the bakery at 6 a.m., trying to keep up.
Other days, I was filling 160 mini croissants for catering orders on top of regular production. I've even hand-rolled croissants on my day off because there was no one else to do it.
Going viral brought more customers, but it also brought higher expectations
Going viral helped Kearsley's business, but it took a toll on her mental health.
Business Insider
People would leave reviews saying they waited hours, only to find we were sold out. I didn't want to disappoint anyone. So I slept on a bench in the bakery for a week straight after going viral to make sure I was keeping up with the demand that was needed during that time.
There's also the emotional weight that comes with virality. When we went viral the first time, it was exciting. It also meant strangers had opinions about everything: my prices, my neighborhood, the fact that I accept Electronic Benefits Transfer.
I accept EBT because I know what underserved, overlooked communities of people are dealing with. And I never wanted there to be a moment where someone walked into Je T'aime Patisserie and wasn't able to afford it.
Kearsley with trays of dough in her bakery.
Business Insider
I specifically wanted Je T'aime Patisserie to be in a neighborhood where people don't have things. Historically, Bed-Stuy is an underserved, overlooked food desert.
So, it was super important for me to make sure that my food impacts the neighborhood by providing high-quality, fresh pastries. People thought that accepting EBT was going to ruin my business, but it actually helped.
Everything I have achieved with my shop is because I accept all types of people in my store, including EBT and SNAP holders.
It's not about the money or going viral
Kearsley taught herself how to bake.
Business Insider
I know this is Business Insider, and we're supposed to talk about numbers. But if I'm being honest, this has never been about the money for me.
If this were just about money, I would make different decisions. I would raise my prices more aggressively. I would stop worrying about whether a single mom can afford a croissant. I would probably choose a different neighborhood.
But I opened in Bed-Stuy on purpose. People told me my bakery "belonged" in Manhattan. I disagreed. I wanted someone who has never tried a fresh croissant or a quiche to walk into my shop and feel like they deserve it.
Financially, EBT makes up a small percentage of my revenue. But the support and gratitude from those customers mean more to me than the dollar amount ever could.
If I could run this business without making money, I would. Unfortunately, that's not realistic in New York City. You need money to survive. But my passion has always been about helping people and impacting my community.
Jatee Kearsley built Je T'aime Patisserie in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, with a mission to make high-quality French desserts accessible to everyone, including customers who pay with EBT.
A self-taught pastry chef who learned from YouTube and years of industry work, Kearsley went from losing money to tripling her sales after going viral. Despite the high ingredient costs, steep New York City rent, intense pressure, and emotional burnout, Kearsley has been dedicated to prioritizing community over profits.
In the early 1900s, while diners dominated the American northeast, the South had its own institutions: cafeterias. At their peak, there were thousands nationwide, with big chains like Morrison's and Luby's operating locations all over the South. They took off because they served affordable comfort food quickly. And they became community centers of sorts. On Sundays, families would slide their trays down the lines after church. There were entire sections of the phone book dedicated to them. But in the '90s, cafeteria lines started to dry up, and many chains shuttered. We went to Georgia to learn how one of the state's oldest and one of its newest cafeterias are fighting to keep their hot bars steaming and communities fed.
Michael Greene sitting inside Matthews Cafeteria, where he grew up learning the ins and outs of the food service industry.
Business Insider
Michael Greene reflects on his journey running Matthews Cafeteria in Tucker, Georgia.
Despite not enjoying the work as a kid, Greene now finds joy in operating the family cafeteria.
Greene's focus is on his kids' freedom, not pressuring them into the family business.
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Michael Greene, 53, third-generation owner and operator of the 70-year-old Matthews Cafeteria in Tucker, Georgia. It has been edited for length and clarity.
My family has run Matthews Cafeteria for three generations. A fourth would be rare and special, but I don't expect it.
I have four kids, ages 12, 10, 8, and 4. They're all boys, and people often assume that at least one of them will take over one day, but I'm not going to push them into this business if they don't want it.
I was one of four, and my parents didn't pressure my siblings or me to run the family business. They gave us the chance to be anything we wanted. So when I think about my sons, I want them to have that same freedom.
I don't expect they'll want this type of work. I was the only one in my generation who wanted anything to do with the business, and it's a tough job. It's also extremely rewarding.
I didn't enjoy the cafeteria when I was growing up
At age 12, my parents required me to start working in the cafeteria during the summer. I started out washing dishes. I only spent about three hours a day at the job, but it felt like 12.
Matthews Cafeteria was established in 1955.
Business Insider
Meanwhile, my friends, who didn't have jobs, were at the pool. So, the cafeteria was by no means my favorite place to be as a kid because it felt like I was missing out.
That said, I plan for each of my sons to work the same job I did as a kid. My eldest will start this summer.
I don't expect him to like it, but it's important to see what his Dad does, to see where the money comes from, and what it takes to make a dollar.
I eventually found my way back to the family business
Greene prepares food in Matthew's kitchen.
Business Insider
I can't remember exactly when I decided to go into the family business. Looking back, I think it was my destiny to end up here because cooking is my passion.
As a kid, I would watch chefs like Nathalie Dupree and Julia Childs on TV and try to recreate what they made. When I went to college, I majored in communications, but never found it rewarding.
Nothing else turned me on the way cooking did. Cooking was my only passion back then, and I'm lucky to say it still is today. Sometimes, when you have to make a living out of what you love, it takes the fun out of it. I'm grateful that the bottom line hasn't spoiled my joy.
I run the production side of things at Matthews, watching the food transform from raw products into what you see on your plate. That'll never get old.
The work is harder than it looks, though. You're on your feet all day — lifting, moving, cooking, solving problems. It's not a desk job.
Up until recently, I was here at 5 a.m. to open and stayed until about 3:30 in the afternoon. Now we open at 6 a.m., and I don't work quite as much as I used to because life is busy with four kids. I also have an incredible staff who, along with my wife, are really what keep this place running smoothly.
During COVID, my wife took on the business side — handling payroll, taxes, catering, everything — after our managers quit.
So, we really don't get to turn off ever — there's always something that needs to be done. That's why I don't take it lightly when people assume my kids will step into this business.
This business has given me a good life
Plaque commemorating the table at Matthews where Michael met and proposed to his wife.
Business Insider
If one of my boys wants to do this and has a passion for it, then I'll support that. But I don't want them to have it as a crutch. Instead, I want them to study hard, get an education, and forge their own path.
This business has given me a good life. It's supported my family and about 30 employees. It's where I met my wife. We got engaged at the same table where I first laid eyes on her. It means a lot to me now in a way it didn't when I was younger.
If one or more of my kids choose the same path, it will be because they want it — the same way I did.
Allison Sheehan quit Goldman to scale her business.
Allison Sheehan
Allison Sheehan ran a baking business while working in private wealth at Goldman Sachs.
She left Goldman after she said the firm told her she couldn't keep her online brand.
Now, she's using her Wall Street skills, like capital allocation, to scale her cake business.
This as-told-to is based on a conversation with Allison Sheehan, 26, a former analyst for private wealth at Goldman Sachs and student at Northwestern's Kellogg School of Management, where she's building her baking brand, Alleycat. Business Insider has verified her roles at Goldman and her current school enrollment. The interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Baking cakes started out as a college hobby — I'd make them for my sorority sisters and, once word got out, the broader Dallas community. When I landed a job in operations at Goldman Sachs in Utah, I stopped baking entirely, though I still longed to build up my cake empire. I had no family, no friends, no nothing in Utah, and was focused on getting transferred to New York.
I eventually got a job in the wealth management unit in New York. It was a part operational, since I was opening accounts and managing money, but also client-facing, which I loved.
As soon as I got to New York, I restarted my baking social media accounts, which had around 500 followers at the time, and announced that I was back in business. Orders picked up, but I didn't have time for all of them, so I capped it at three cakes a week, creating a scarcity model. I sold out weekly for about 6 months before expanding to up to 10 cakes.
Sheehan has documented her journey on social media.
Allison Sheehan
That's when I started struggling to fit everything in, but I was getting good traction, making cakes for companies and fashion houses, like Goop. A typical day meant waking up at 5 am to frost a cake, going to the gym, going to work, baking a cake, going to dinner with friends, and going to sleep. I spent all my spare moments invoicing clients or editing videos. In 2023, my friend's boyfriend said I should post under the handle "investment__baker," but I was careful not to mention anything about where I worked or my exact job.
I learned valuable skills at Goldman
Goldman's high-stakes hustle culture has helped me build the brand — I had to be responsive, communicative, and accurate, all skills I use now. I always quickly consolidate my notes and immediately flag any concerns to product developers or suppliers. On the communication front, I'm able to connect people across the supply chain, from technical food scientists to more creative-minded brand designers. And when it comes to accuracy, I'm precise about costs, even on volatile products like cocoa, and margins.
In wealth management, I learned a lot about capital allocation, helping clients balance their portfolios and plan for expenses. But I learned just as much from my own failures.
After I started taking on more orders, I rented a commercial kitchen on the Lower East Side to bake and teach workshops. It solved logistical problems but drained my bank account. Every penny I made from baking went toward rent, and I eventually had to return to my apartment. That was definitely not a good capital allocation strategy, since it almost left me broke.
Goldman gave me an ultimatum
At that point, I knew I needed to go all in on my business and decided to apply to business school. Studying for the GRE while working and running the business was unsustainable.
My health deteriorated, and I broke down at work, having a panic attack and sobbing to my very understanding VP. I went home to Wisconsin for two weeks, shut down all of my social media accounts, and brought my brand to an awful, screeching halt.
Six months later, I reopened the account, with 2,000 fewer followers and almost no DMs. The momentum came back quickly, though, until, boom: Goldman's compliance team called me in and asked me to delete all of my content or leave the firm. They said the word "investment" on my social handles alluded to my job, and I had to delete everything. After finishing my business school interviews a few months later, I un-archived all of the content, got called in again, and quit.
I couldn't waste the five years of time and energy I'd poured into this business.
Sheehan said her experience with capital allocation is helping her manage finances.
Allison Sheehan
Goldman is still helping me now
I've scaled back my custom cake business and am focused on building my consumer packaged goods products: dry cake mixes and frosting, like the kind you can scoop out of the jar. I've finished the formulation, secured suppliers, and gotten my nutritional label approved, but I'm still struggling to find a manufacturer.
Small brands have to convince manufacturers they're a worthwhile investment. From their perspective, why spend time onboarding a tiny Instagram baker who could easily fail?
That's where Goldman has come in. Beyond knowing how to build a nice deck and balance a budget, my background at such a prestigious firm lends me credibility. It comes up in conversations, and I'll include it in presentations, since I'm proud to have worked there. The firm is relevant to my online brand, too, since I still post as the investment baker and share investing advice.
I'm making a fraction of my Goldman salary, but I'm fundamentally a creative person. I couldn't spend my life behind a desk. When I started, my goal was to make a cake for a celebrity, which I've donemultiple times, including for Brooke Shields.Now, I want to bring home baking back — and revolutionize the grocery aisles.
Kim Vaccarella, CEO of Bogg, said dupes have cost her business tens of millions.
Social media has driven the Bogg bag's growth, but also boosted competition and copycats.
Bogg's unique offerings and customer service aim to outshine cheaper dupes.
Bogg's founder takes each dupe she sees personally.
Kim Vaccarella began making Bogg 15 years ago to be the ultimate beach bag for working moms. She saw an opportunity in the plastic material used for flip-flops — durable and waterproof.
Thus, the Bogg bag was born with its patented design featuring signature holes and a flat bottom, which Bogg says makes it tip-proof.
"My plan was to come up with the idea, patent it, and maybe sell it because I had a career," Vaccarella said. "Once I put my papers in for the patent and started reaching out to a few companies, I was getting a lot of nos."
There were those who said the Bogg bag was a one-time purchase that wouldn't attract repeat customers.
Vaccarella believed in her idea, however, and quit her job in 2018 to run the company full time. It wasn't long after that she realized she had a viral hit on her hands thanks to social media. The power of TikTok and beyond has been a game changer for Bogg. It led the business to $100 million in annual revenue by 2024, Vaccarella said.
However, being the new it-bag came with its hardships. Along with her success came Vaccarella's No. 1 enemy: dupes.
Dupes are products that are similar in appearance or functionality to a higher-end item but sold at a lower price. Bogg bags start at $55 for the smallest size and go up to $100 for the largest. Similar bags in the largest size sell online from retailers like Walmart for less than the small Bogg "bitty bag."
"Social media is kind of that double-edged sword where you're getting a lot of exposure, a lot of new customers, but also, that visibility is introducing new competitors and giving them ideas," Vaccarella told Business Insider.
The viral success and dupes that have come with it have cost Bogg tens of millions of dollars, Vaccarella said.
As dupes become more common, even larger brands like Lululemon have taken action to curb copycats, including suing retailers. To combat the copycats, Vaccarella said she keeps three principles in mind.
Know your audience
Gen Z may be the talk of the town among many retailers, but Vaccarella said that Bogg knows its customer base skews older. Its target shoppers are women ages 18 to 64, but moms over 35 are the brand's "sweet spot," she said.
"She's carrying all the things for a day at the ball field, for the pool, for the beach," Vaccarella said.
Knowing who is willing to pay the premium price for the real thing is a key part of its strategy.
Social media is also a powerful tool driving Bogg's growth. Vaccarella said that it has helped build its customer base to 78% new shoppers, with 22% being returners.
It's still not an ideal mix, Vaccarella said, as companies tend to want to see a higher percentage of return visits. However, she said the numbers are based on Bogg's direct-to-consumer business and don't include its retail partners that carry Bogg products, such as Dick's Sporting Goods, Nordstrom, or Bloomingdale's.
You won't find Bogg bags at your local Hobby Lobby, Five Below, or other discount stores, though.
"Unfortunately, with our pricing, we can't sell in a Walmart," Vaccarella said.
Stand up for your ideas
Vaccarella has taken legal action against retailers whose marketing and products she thinks could confuse consumers. It's not about making a profit, she said, but making up for the "significant" amount of revenue that may have been taken away from Bogg.
"I just want them to stop in most cases," Vaccarella said.
Bogg applied for trade dress, a form of intellectual property protection that protects a product's visual appearance. It's worth the time and money, she said.
It's helped Bogg when it sent out cease-and-desists, followed by further legal action.Suing copycats isn't a "money-making scheme," Vaccarella said.
"Even if it pays the legal fees that I have to pay, just to get somebody to stop, it's worth it," she said.
Offer something the dupes can't
The large Bogg bag starts at $90.
Bogg
While dupes make certain product types more accessible to those who can't afford to spend $100 on a bag, Vaccarella said some things can't be replicated.
That's how Bogg justifies its premium pricing. You may be able to pick up a similar bag for $20, but Vaccarella said it won't come with the service Bogg offers.
"I'm not going to say every single dupe is a throwaway product, but we see that they break," Vaccarella said. "If your bag breaks, if the button comes off, we'regoing to send you a new button."
It's not only the repairs that Vaccarella said keep customers loyal, but also the ability to accessorize your bag to make it both functional and stylish. Shoppers may hope to kit out their Bogg dupes with accessories from the real brand, but they don't fit.
It's an opportunity to get them to buy into the Bogg family and leave their dupes behind.
OpenAI has built one of the most popular products in the world. Now it has to figure out how to pay for it.
Enter Fidji Simo.
Simo, the 40-year-old former Instacart CEO and longtime Meta executive, became OpenAI's product boss in August under CEO Sam Altman. While Altman has long been the face of OpenAI, Simo is increasingly shaping how the company operates and makes money.
"Part of bringing me on, and giving me the responsibilities of a CEO, was to make sure that I could really run that part of the company with autonomy," Simo, whose title is CEO of applications, told Business Insider.
Altman defers to Simo when he doesn't feel strongly, she said, and they "debate it out" when he does.
As OpenAI races toward a possible IPO later this year, Simo, who oversees nearly two-thirds of the company, has a delicate balancing act. She must craft a strategy to make products profitable, while convincing staffers who joined a research-driven organization that commercialization won't change the mission.
The stakes are high. Deutsche Bank estimated that OpenAI is expected to amass the "largest startup losses in history," totaling a projected $143 billion between 2024 and 2029. (An OpenAI spokesperson said that figure is incorrect, and one person familiar with the numbers said OpenAI's internal projections are in line with other reports of $111 billion cash burn by 2030.)
Competitors like Anthropic and Google are starting to erode OpenAI's early and commanding lead and, in some cases, surging ahead. Anthropic's coding tool has outperformed OpenAI's even after the latter made dominance in coding its top priority, a person familiar with internal goals told Business Insider.
OpenAI and Simo now face pressure to create the most powerful models and turn them into accessible and marketable products that can sustain the enormous cost of training and deployment.
"This AI moment is so unique that there is really no blueprint for OpenAI to follow," UBS analyst Karl Keirstead told Business Insider. "This is uncharted territory."
In an interview, Simo was warm and charismatic — a charm paired with a reputation for intensity and follow-through. This month, she unveiled a strategy shift for the company: an increased focus on coding and enterprise users.
"We cannot miss this moment because we are distracted by side quests," Simo told employees at an all-hands meeting, according to a person familiar with her remarks. The company needs to nail productivity — primarily on the business side, and then on the consumer side, she said. "Everything else is going to have to take a backseat to those priorities."
Former colleagues said they were familiar with this laser focus.
One former Meta employee recalled a moment when, after a contentious meeting, Simo sent a one-line follow-up saying she was unlikely to change her mind, so the team shouldn't waste time trying to persuade her. She has little patience for internal debates that lose sight of the product, the former employee said, and she's skilled at "being super clear in her directive so teams don't scramble and waste time."
Priya Monga, who served as Simo's chief of staff at Facebook and Instacart and is now director of go-to-market strategy at Instacart, said Simo arrives at any new role having mapped out the full journey.
"She knows she's going from A to Z, and she sees that right at the beginning," Monga said. "In the back of her mind, she has already really thought a lot about the broader visionary 10-year road map."
Interviews with Simo, current and former OpenAI employees, and former colleagues reveal how she's approaching one of the company's most crucial years — and the mark she's already made on it.
Competing for resources
A few months after she joined OpenAI, Simo invited the company's researchers to a series of roundtable meetings.
She wanted to talk about advertising inside the AI giant's flagship product, ChatGPT: what it might look like, what guardrails should be in place, and what principles would make AI ads publicly defensible. Nearly 100 employees weighed in.
For years, OpenAI executives said the company wouldn't turn to ads for revenue. Altman referred to the idea as a "last resort." A year later, Altman hired Simo, a seasoned executive with a reputation for monetizing new products. In February, OpenAI began testing ads.
The drive to become more product-focused predated Simo, two people familiar with the company's internal strategy told Business Insider.
After ChatGPT took off in 2023, OpenAI leaders decided to put research teams in two buckets: one for improving products, and another centered on more forward-looking exploratory projects. In the years since, the company has faced more pressure to roll out products as competitors gained ground.
OpenAI had two broad goals in 2025, according to a former executive: reach a $12 billion revenue run rate, which it handily beat midway through the year, and "dominate in AI coding," which it did not. It was the first time the company had failed to meet a major internal objective, according to the person familiar with the goals.
Codex, OpenAI's coding tool, has since reached more than 2 million weekly active users, nearly four times as many as at the start of the year. Anthropic doesn't disclose active users; it said in February that Claude Code's run rate revenue is more than $2.5 billion, and its weekly active users had doubled since January 1.
OpenAI leadership realized it needed to start acting more like a Big Tech company, not a research lab. "There's definitely some stress happening to the company, and no company wants to be behind," one of the people familiar with the company's strategy said.
Since Simo joined, OpenAI has moved several executives into different roles, two people with knowledge of the shifts said.
Simo joined OpenAI after stints at Instacart and Meta.
David Buchan/Variety/Penske Media via Getty Images
A few months after she arrived, Kevin Weil moved from chief product officer to vice president of OpenAI for science, and VP of engineering Srinivas Narayanan became chief technical officer of B2B applications. In January, Chief Operating Officer Brad Lightcap shifted to overseeing commercial operations, while Barret Zoph began overseeing B2B after he rejoined the company. Weil and Narayanan underwent title changes in September, according to their LinkedIn profiles.
Simo has also personally recruited a number of high-level executives from across Big Tech, including former Facebook VP Vijaye Raji, Slack CEO Denise Dresser, OpenClaw founder Peter Steinberger, and several executives from Amazon, Shopify, and Instagram, according to a person familiar with the leadership changes.
Since Simo started, the company's post-training team, which fine-tunes AI models after initial training, has acted as a bridge between research and product teams. The team interfaces directly with Simo about research projects, a person with knowledge of the organizational strategy said.
Early on,Simo told Business Insider, she did a "listening tour." More than 200 people took up her offer to meet, she said. That helped her better understand the company and culture and build trust with her new colleagues.
"I think that really made the company feel like I wasn't jumping in with preconceived notions," she said. "I was really trying to understand what was right for this company at this specific moment in time."
Simo said she manages the company's product research team alongside Mark Chen, the company's chief research officer. One of her first priorities was to understand how the research side operated, something she worked closely with Chen on.
As ChatGPT grows — it has nearly a billion weekly users — and its valuation surges, resources like compute power — the GPU chips, energy, and data-center capacity required to train and run AI models — have become increasingly competitive.
The tension between research and product has become increasingly visible inside OpenAI, some insiders say. Some researchers told Business Insider that the focus on user optimization and product growth risks narrowing the lab's ability to chase more exploratory work.
Earlier this year, vice president of research Jerry Tworek resigned after seven years at OpenAI, saying in a post on X that he wanted to "explore types of research that are hard to do at OpenAI."
Others have voiced similar frustrations. Tom Cunningham, the company's chief economist, left in December over friction between OpenAI's work on the economic impact of AI and the marketing of its product, Wired reported at the time.
One former researcher told Business Insider that as ChatGPT has grown, they "started feeling a little bit of pushback" from the rest of the company and began to feel as if "ambitious research" didn't have a place at the company anymore. Another former employee said the pivot towards a more traditional tech culture at OpenAI was "inevitable," but it has led to a "changing of the guard."
"At the end of the day, it's about survival," they said.
Chen has pushed back against claims that the company is driving a product-focused agenda. "The majority of our compute is allocated to foundational research and exploration — and not product milestones," he wrote on X in February.
Are we going to turn into Big Tech?
Simo was hired by OpenAI after serving on the board for more than a year.
Some employees, Simo told Business Insider, worried that her arrival meant OpenAI would transform into a Big Tech clone. "Is the only way to build this big product company to hire tons of people and kind of do what Big Tech is doing?" she recalled employees asking.
She spent her first few months trying to convince them that the answer was no.
One of her early moves was a company-wide effort to eliminate the unnecessary bureaucracy that can bog down a large organization. She publishes a monthly update on the company's Slack detailing obstacles that have been removed — everything from small annoyances like how to get headphones to bigger structural bottlenecks like clunky code reviews. She created a dedicated inbox where employees could flag issues and says she reads every submission.
"I'm very focused on scaling the company without creating the excess process and friction that many of us have seen in big tech," read an excerpt of her first dispatch.
Her aim, she said, is to keep OpenAI small, focused, and process-light. To that end, Simo said, OpenAI has an advantage that most Big Tech companies don't: It started as a research lab.
"There is no product if there is no research," Simo said. It's easier to build products on top of a strong research base than to put a research lab on top of a product-driven company, she added.
Big Tech would "put products out into the world and then kind of react to what would happen," Simo said. "We started with a research lab that was very focused on safety, and really thought of safety as a leading research field and not as the thing you do right before the launch."
"I think we have a very big advantage in how we think about problems and anticipating where the technology is going and feeling a lot of responsibility for guiding that technology towards the right place," she added.
Vivek Sharma, who worked under Simo at Meta, said that's a natural part of the maturation process in tech.
"Tension is a good sign someone is advancing beyond the basics," he said. "If there's no tension, no division happening — real expertise, experience, past multi-domain decisions haven't been made."
'Founder mode'
Simo isn't a traditional Silicon Valley insider. Raised in Sète, a fishing town on France's Mediterranean coast, she was the first in her family to graduate from high school before earning a place at one of France's elite business schools.
From there, she worked her way into tech — first through an internship at eBay, then at Facebook, where she went on to help monetize the company's core app and eventually oversee some of its most ambitious product expansions. She also served as CEO at Instacart, where she helped steer the company through the pandemic boom and took it public in 2023 during a notoriously difficult market for tech IPOs.
Simo married her high school sweetheart, former software engineer turned chocolatier Remy Miralles, in 2011; they have a young daughter. Simo has spoken in the past about how navigating chronic health issues, including endometriosis and the nervous system disorderPOTS, has shaped some of her work. She cofounded a women's health venture called the Metrodora Institute and was largely responsible for the launch of ChatGPT Health.
Former colleagues describe Simo as intense, empathetic, and known to crack a joke during a high-stakes meeting.
They say that background shapes how she leads. Sharma described her as a "hard-charging" executive with a distinctly human lens — someone who thinks about what ordinary people would actually find useful, not just what's technologically impressive.
Nick Turley, the head of ChatGPT who reports to Simo, said she has a "customer orientation" that has reshaped how the company approaches products. During an interview, he said that she has driven a new focus on reliability and performance over "flashy" new tech.
She also has a relentless operating tempo. Turley described it as her propensity to go "founder-mode."
"She will read every single document — including the links," he said.
Daniel Danker, who worked with Simo on Facebook's video team and later at Instacart, said "she was causing all of Facebook to move faster."
Simo's track record of commercialization is not without controversy.
At Instacart, Simo inherited a fraught relationship with gig workers. On her first day as CEO in August 2021, she published an open letter pledging to be "a thoughtful and open partner" to the company's hundreds of thousands of gig workers, and invited them to email her directly.
The Gig Workers Collective, representing some 13,000 contract workers, called for a boycott and walkoff within weeks, telling Fortune that her responses were "basically canned answers."
OpenAI's next chapter
At OpenAI, Simo has helped push several high-profile initiatives, including a newsletter product called ChatGPT Pulse, OpenAI's Frontier enterprise agents, and advertising. This month, the company launched GPT-5.4, a model that incorporates coding capabilities into its core system, and announced a desktop "superapp," which Simo will oversee.
Simo said she approaches new product launches by involving employees throughout the process. She pitched those advertising roundtables by sharing her own ideas for what kind of ads the company could be proud of, and asking employees to share where they agreed and disagreed.
"The way I approached it was not to tell the company we're going to have ads. It's to actually start a dialogue," Simo told Business Insider. "That's not usually the way it goes. That's a big difference for this place."
As product chief, Simo has to prepare the company for battle inside a complex leadership structure, working closely with Altman.
Sam Altman, OpenAI's CEO.
Justin Sullivan/Getty Images
Simo has said the two are complementary and aligned on vision, with Altman focusing heavily on research and compute scaling while she drives product execution.
It's a dynamic familiar to Simo, who worked closely with Mark Zuckerberg. She had a special talent for knowing how to navigate the CEO, Sharma said.
OpenAI can be a cutthroat place to work for leaders. As one former executive put it, OpenAI is such a rocket ship that there's very little time or patience for those who don't hit the ground running. "What a leader needs to do is astounding," the person said.
"The speed at which OpenAI is growing, it's relatively easy for Sam to hire the best, most famous people, but it's hard to keep them. His mode is: Nobody is not sacrificeable," the person said. "'You have to magically grow to what I think you can do right now.'"
OpenAI no longer has the luxury of being a research lab dreaming about the future of AI. It has rapidly become a global consumer product under intense scrutiny. Now Simo's job is to help it grow up without losing what made it successful in the first place.
"I'm too lazy, selfish, socially minded," he told Business Insider on a February call about his unlikely leadership of two movements at once, both with Big Tech in the crosshairs. "I saw an opportunity for a new form of economic activism," he said, "but I'm a long way from being a Cesar Chavez or refusing to give up my bus seat."
Later in our call, he analogizes his "Resist and Unsubscribe" initiative — which urges Americans to unsubscribe from Big Tech to protest the Trump Administration's immigration crackdown — to the 1955-1956 Montgomery bus boycotts. At one point, he calls activists "more noble" than himself. Seconds later, he describes not wanting to "get on a call with a bunch of people in Birkenstocks."
I asked his cohost, Kara Swisher, the same question: Is Scott an activist? Not in a traditional sense, she texted me, or he would have formed a coalition. "I got a lot of pings from people who do organizing that this was a dumb way to do it," Swisher wrote. "It wasn't."
If you don't know Galloway's name, you've certainly seen his clips. The executive-turned-professor-turned-podcaster rakes in millions from his center-left media empire, including four podcasts, two newsletters, and six books, the latest about how young men are socially and economically disadvantaged, thanks in part to Big Tech. He's a sort of shock jock for the TikTok age — and his 400,000 followers there love it.
In recent months, his anti-Big Tech efforts have made him an even bigger lightning rod. He's been disinvited from two speaking gigs, he said, because the hosts didn't "want controversy." (He declined to share which gigs: "I'm hoping they invite me next year.") He's also heard from CEOs or chief marketing officers of 20% of the companies he's targeted, he said, who have mostly been kind. He says he's disappointed because he wishes they felt more threatened.
It's a surprising turn for the serial entrepreneur and business school professor. He's a provocateur, a testosterone-injecting multimillionaire who students call a "dick." Is this the man who can move the masses to quit Amazon Prime cold turkey?
Galloway is a businessman at heart. Even his activism is done through the market.
After federal agents killed Renee Good and Alex Pretti in Minneapolis, Galloway launched his Resist and Unsubscribe campaign. The best way to catch President Donald Trump's attention, he reasoned, was the market. Since, he said, corporations were providing the "data, infrastructure, and logistics" to assist with Trump's immigration crackdown, it was time for Americans to vote with their dollars.
Andrew Testa for BI
He wanted to walk the walk — and that meant cutting his own subscriptions. He quickly found that he'd been paying for some duplicates: four Apple TV Plus accounts, three ChatGPT subscriptions. He had four AT&T contracts, of which "three are for Blackberrys and iPads that have been in landfills for the last decade," he told me.
The Galloway family also found some workarounds. His son found a "probably illegal" way to watch the Premier League without Paramount+. He binge-watched "Heated Rivalry" before dumping HBO Max. The hardest app to give up was Uber, which he said on his podcast was costing him $34,000 a year.
On stock ownership, Galloway is more mixed. He's hesitant to sell his Amazon shares while the stock is down, but he said he did sell down almost all of his Apple shares.
"I'm especially offended, personally, by Tim Cook," he said. Galloway said that Cook paints himself as a "soft, gentle, nice guy" while sucking up to Trump at the "Melania" premiere. ("I'm not a political person on either side," Cook recently told Good Morning America.)
He plans to move his money out of Goldman Sachs and is debating whether to choose a regional US bank or the Royal Bank of Canada.
If you're worried that you can't fully unsubscribe, he gets it.
"I don't have entire moral clarity around this," Galloway said. "I still have an iPhone, and I'm not giving it up."
As February came to a close, Galloway felt contented. Resist and Unsubscribe had hit 23 million views on social media and 2 million unique site visits, he said. An estimate on his website shows how much market capitalization the movement would wipe out if 5% of visitors canceled two subscriptions. As of this story's publication date, it calculated just over $281 million in losses.
When Galloway first started talking about the plight facing America's young men five years ago, it produced a "gag reflex," he said. People compared him to manosphere influencer Andrew Tate and accused him of misogyny.
Galloway has said that young men are more economically and socially disadvantaged than young women. He points to the stats. Young men account for only 42% of students at four-year universities, and 63% of young men are single. "If you go into a morgue and there are five people who died by suicide, four are men," he said.
His book, "Notes on Being a Man," published in November, is a how-to guide for the disenfranchised young man in your life. Of course, young people are reading for pleasure less and less. His most encouraging feedback comes from mothers, Galloway said.
The book has also received plenty of criticism. In her review in The New Yorker, Jessica Winter writes that Galloway thinks "men should still rank above women in the social hierarchy, but just not as much as before."
Galloway seemed taken aback. "I think that's a total misinterpretation of what I've written about," he said. Those on the left — which he groups The New Yorker into — seemed to think that young men don't have problems, he said. "They are the problem."
"We have decided, in the social hierarchy, young men are less deserving of empathy than women," Galloway said.
Andrew Testa for BI
Galloway also faced misogyny accusations from women online after calling himself a "'50s dad" who wasn't sure if there should be mandatory paternity leave. He said that dads are a "waste of time" in the first few months of a child's life, and that their only jobs are to keep babies from drowning and "make sure moms don't lose it." In The New York Times, Jessica Grose called it "loud and wrong."
On this subject, Galloway was more remorseful. "The comments on paternity leave were meant to be funny," he said. "They weren't. It was stupid, and so far I've paid a fairly significant reputational price."
He was less sympathetic to the Times, which he said "made a cartoon out of my comments so that they could play guardians of gotcha."
Stirring up controversy has long been part of Galloway's brand. Why not double down?
"I try to be provocative, I try to be funny, I try to say what I'm thinking," he told me. "Against paternity leave? No, that's absolutely not the message I want to communicate."
It's easy to think that Galloway hates Big Tech to the bone.
Tech is the target of both of his movements. He accuses the industry of helping to push young men down; in his book, he analogizes Tim Cook and Mark Zuckerberg to heroin dealers standing outside a middle school. Then, for Resist and Unsubscribe, he asks you to stop paying these companies entirely.
Indeed, on our call, Galloway spared no barbs for the tech CEOs. "I don't think there's any way feasible that he could be described as a good person," he said of Zuckerberg.
But the tech industry is full of his friends, his former coworkers, and the people who made him rich. Galloway is an entrepreneur, after all; he made (some of) his millions on the sale of the business intelligence firm, L2. He wrote a book about Amazon, Apple, Facebook, and Google, which he called a "love letter."
Of the executives targeted by Resist and Unsubscribe, Galloway said that half are acquaintances, a quarter are "friendly" with him, and one or two are friends. "I find that they're, on the whole, good people," he said of tech executives.
That's what makes his shift to organizing so surprising. He's not raging against an industry from the outside; he could well be part of the in-crowd if he wanted to. He was a successful business executive with a vengeful spirit, then a snarky podcaster — and now a man trying to save the world.
Galloway said that humans are "net gainers" from Big Tech — but that we're also net gainers from pesticides and fossil fuels. What's Big Tech's emission? "Rage," he said.
Pesticides and fossil fuels are regulated by the government. For tech, we often rely on a benevolent CEO, Galloway said. He's not sure they exist anymore.
"If we're waiting on the better angels of Mark Zuckerberg to show up, don't hold your breath," he said.
Some shipping companies, including FedEx, are willing to help their customers obtain IEEPA tariff refunds.
Benoit Tessier/Reuters
If you made an overseas purchase in 2025, the government may owe you money.
The Customs and Border Protection could start rolling out IEEPA tariff refunds as soon as April.
Some shipping companies are willing to help you obtain IEEPA tariff refunds.
If you made an overseas purchase last year that required shipping, the federal government may owe you money.
After Trump ended the de minimis exemption last year, purchasing an item straight from an international vendor, regardless of the item's value, meant incurring International Emergency Economic Powers Act tariffs.
Now, thanks to a ruling by the Supreme Court that overturned Trump's IEEPA tariffs, and a ruling by the Court of International Trade ruled that all tariffs paid under IEEPA must be returned, buyers may be able to collect a refund.
The Customs and Border Protection said in a declaration on March 6 that it could start rolling out refunds as soon as April, after some technological updates to its system. The CIT estimates that the CBP owes $165 billion in duties that must be refunded with interest, with about $650 million accruing each month.
Even though Trump introduced a new 10% "global tariff" under Section 122, meaning that overseas purchases will continue to face an extra charge, some shipping companies told Business Insider they are willing to help consumers claw back what they paid under the IEEPA.
From FedEx to USPS, here is what different companies are saying about refunding tariffs paid by individual consumers.
Some companies are willing to help
FedEx was the first company to file a lawsuit with the CIT to secure "a full refund" after the Supreme Court decision.
A spokesperson for FedEx told Business Insider that the lawsuit was "on behalf of our customers" and that the company is committed to returning tariff costs.
"Our intent is straightforward: if refunds are issued to FedEx, we will issue refunds to the shippers and consumers who originally bore those charges," the spokesperson said.
"When that will happen, and the exact process for requesting and issuing refunds will depend in part on future guidance from the government and the court," the spokesperson added.
Similar to FedEx, UPS told Business Insider that the company will support customers in obtaining IEEPA tariff refunds after a process is established by relevant agencies.
"We remain focused on keeping shipments moving and helping ensure our customers can fully exercise their rights throughout this complex process," said a UPS spokesperson.
Morgan & Morgan alsofiled a proposed class action lawsuit in March against FedEx to recover the costs of import duties and fees associated with IEEPA in a legally binding manner.
"While FedEx has stated publicly that they plan to return those funds to their customers, the company did not make any legally binding statements to that effect in their complaint," said Morgan & Morgan in a statement to Business Insider, "Nor have they mentioned any plan to refund the significant ancillary fees they charged for processing those tariffs."
Other major companies
USPS is one of the most popular and affordable methods of shipping small goods, but it can be complicated as a government-owned entity.
USPS has been collecting tariffs for items via its prepaid "Delivered Duty Paid" service, mostly to avoid surprise fees and a buildup of abandoned small items at the border. Unlike FedEx or UPS, it is an independent agency that belongs to the executive branch of the federal government.
Though USPS pays for its own operations and is not funded by taxpayers, it is legally complicated for federal agencies to sue each other in court because they are part of the same legal entity, so it is unknown if USPS could obtain refunds for shippers or receivers through legal means. According to the Department of Justice website, a government agency can sue another only if it can prove a concrete adversity of interest.
A USPS spokesperson told Business Insider that the CBP is responsible for questions regarding the "disposition of tariff monies."
The CBP and shipping company DHL did not respond to requests for comment.
Clémence de Lutz is the owner of Petitgrain Boulangerie in Santa Monica.
Shelby Moore for BI
Clémence de Lutz owns Petitgrain Boulangerie, one of LA's most popular bakeries.
On opening day in 2024, she sold out of croissants in about an hour. Today, there's often a line out the door.
She credits her small business's success to social capital, intentional hiring, and radical hospitality.
When Clémence de Lutz answered my phone call at 1 p.m. on a Friday afternoon in late February, she'd already been awake — and working — for 12 hours.
De Lutz owns Petitgrain Boulangerie, a tiny bakery tucked between a delicatessen and a nail salon on Los Angeles' iconic Wilshire Boulevard. Five days a week, her alarm goes off at 12:48 a.m., giving her just enough time to get out of bed, walk the 10 blocks to the shop, and start shaping croissants by 1 a.m. She relieves her 23-year-old daughter, who works the 5 p.m. to 1 a.m. night shift.
Those early hours aren't for show. They're key to good business.
The most foot traffic happens between 8 a.m., when her bakery opens, and 10:30 a.m., she explained: "If we don't have enough things to sell because we shaped too late or they went into the proofer too late, then we lose money."
From 1 a.m. to 3 a.m., she works alone in the kitchen.
"It's my favorite time of day," said the mother of three, "because I just listen to true-crime podcasts."
At 3 a.m., a second baker arrives, followed by three more, staggered at 4 a.m., 5 a.m., and 6 a.m. Front of house clocks in at 7 a.m., and the doors open an hour later. Regulars often line up well before then to secure their favorite pastries, including the most popular item: the plain croissant.
On Fridays, she typically works a half-day and focuses on business development. The Friday we chat is different.
Petitgrain Boulangerie, situated on Wilshire Boulevard, opened in May 2024.
Shelby Moore for BI
"This week, I'm short-staffed," she told me, stepping out of the kitchen to take the call. "I have a nice, healthy 45 minutes ahead of me. I'm just waiting for things to rise in the proofer."
De Lutz was born in Paris and moved with her family to Washington, D.C., when she was eight. Summers were spent selling ice cream and washing dishes at the inn and restaurant her grandparents owned in the south of France. "My parents would just drop us off for the summer and be like, 'Work for tips,'" she recalled.
She studied film and anthropology at Syracuse University, then moved to Los Angeles with plans to make documentaries. She tried the corporate route first, taking an executive assistant job at Fox, but it didn't last. "I just couldn't find my footing until I went back into food in my early 20s and was like, 'Oh, this is what feels normal,'" she said. "Chaos feels normal."
De Lutz starts prepping croissants at 1 a.m. every morning the bakery is open.
Shelby Moore for BI
Turning a cubicle cookie side hustle into a career
While a desk job wasn't a great fit for de Lutz, it led to a side hustle that would change the course of her career. She'd collect cookie orders from coworkers throughout the week and deliver her handmade creations on Fridays. Her cubicle cookie business eventually landed a spot on KCRW's "Good Food," an appearance she says "changed my life." She quit her job, rented a commercial kitchen, and began working as a ghost pastry chef for restaurants. Baking evolved into teaching and consulting. For years, she helped other bakeries build menus and streamline systems, work that also served as real-time education on what it takes to succeed in the industry.
When the opportunity to run her own bakery fell into her lap — a friend she'd consulted for called her up and said, "Hey, I'm retiring, do you want my space?" — she jumped.
Taking over an existing kitchen space in LA typically comes with expensive delays and red tape. In Los Angeles County, she explained, commercial kitchens that sit empty for 90 days or more can trigger a permit reset. So, "when you find an owner who is willing to work with you and close the day before you want to open and just kind of negotiate key money for buying out the equipment, you can never pass that up."
She has lived lean, she said, with no credit card debt or loans, so the risk of opening felt manageable.
"The values I grew up with have very little to do with money. In France, it's not customary to value money or wealth. It's really valuing being a tradesperson, being an expert in your field," she said. "Taking risks was always easy because I had nothing to lose."
The bakers at Petitgrain shape hundreds of croissants by hand a day.
Shelby Moore for BI
Opening day: Selling 300 croissants in 1 hour
Petitgrain opened in May 2024. From the start, demand outpaced production.
Opening day, she made about 300 croissants. They didn't last more than an hour. On day two, she about doubled the number and sold out again.
Since opening, the bakery has drawn steady crowds from Wednesday through Sunday, the days it's open. Today, the operation is close to its ceiling.
"We're pretty maxed out," she said. Her 870-square-foot kitchen, equipped with one double-stack oven and one small proofer, produces 32 "books" of croissants a day. A book yields roughly 24 to 30 croissants, putting the daily volume at 700 to 900. Though the croissant is the top seller, she offers a variety of other pastries, including cinnamon, cardamom, and sausage rolls, as well as cookies, quiche, and scones.
The business worked from the get-go because she understood her baseline costs and built for sustainability. It helped that her landlord was committed to renting to small businesses at below-market rent, she added: "Rent is $4,100 a month, and we knew how much we needed to make to make rent."
Early on, she kept a second job teaching baking classes, but within a couple of months of opening, she sold her share of the cooking school to focus fully on Petitgrain.
De Lutz said Petitgrain's average monthly sales have climbed about 131% from 2024, when she first opened, as the team slowly increased production. Small upgrades, such as undercounter freezers, have helped drive another 20% in growth over the last few months, she added.
De Lutz sources nearly every ingredient from farms around LA.
Shelby Moore for BI
Her secret sauce: Social capital and 'radical hospitality'
Having ripped open one of her flaky masterpieces myself, it's hard to agree with de Lutz when she claims her croissants are "overhyped."
"I'm not kidding," she said when I chuckled. "I wake up every morning at 12:48 a.m., and my first thought is: 'How can I live up to this hype?' It's a lot of expectations, but it's sort of what drives you to be excellent."
A big part of her immediate success, she believes, was timing. When Petitgrain opened, interest in croissants surged across Los Angeles.
"Everybody all of a sudden wanted to write about croissants," she said. "It was just really lucky timing."
Less visible, and perhaps more impactful than trends, however, were the relationships she'd built from being in the food and hospitality community for so long. Social capital, she said, is "the most important part of my story." While it's hard to quantify, "I think that has the biggest return."
Her hiring model and teambuilding strategies are unique. At Petitgrain, she practices what she calls "both-of-house" training: everyone in back of house learns front of house, and everyone in front of house works at least one back-of-house shift weekly.
De Lutz has a team of 13 bakers and baristas.
Shelby Moore for BI
That way, "everyone understands the product better and has respect for their team members," she said. She also rejects a traditional hierarchy and instead aims for shared accountability, anchored in wages.
"My business model is based on generous hospitality," she said. "Everybody needs to earn a living wage, not like $20 an hour. Everyone here, with tips, is making at minimum $30 an hour. I don't want anyone to have to work a second job."
To make that work, she runs a tip pool, and she protects it. She refuses to hire ahead of revenue.
"Because the tip pool is such an important part of everybody's paycheck, I'm really cautious," she said. "I cannot bring in a new team member until we grow sales between 6 and 8% at a time because, if I add an extra person before revenue grows, everybody's tip pool gets diluted."
As of early 2026, she has a team of 13 bakers and baristas. When she does hire, credentials aren't her priority. She's looking for kindness, hustle, and curiosity.
"I don't care if you went to culinary school. I don't care if you worked at a Michelin-star restaurant," she said. "Honestly, it's not hard to make a croissant. It really isn't. But if you are curious, if you are humble, if you work hard, you'll figure it out. And 99% of the time, that yields a really great team."
Underneath all of it is what she calls her core belief system: radical generosity, expressed through radical hospitality.
"There's never a time when I have been radically generous and regretted it," she said.
Monica Nassif founded Caldrea and Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day.
Monica Nassif
Monica Nassif, founder of Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day, retired at 53.
Nassif said scaling struggles pushed her to sell her brands to SC Johnson in 2008.
"It deserves to be in the hands of people who can scale this much better than we can," Nassif said.
For some founders, selling their company to an internationally recognized corporation like SC Johnson is a cause for unbridled celebration. For Monica Nassif, it was more complicated.
"It's really bittersweet," Nassif, founder of Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day, told Business Insider. "I had to sell my mother."
Nassif's 93-year-old mother is the inspiration behind the household cleaning products. Thelma Meyers, an avid gardener, raised Nassif and her eight siblings as a homemaker in Iowa. The items she grew in the family's backyard — basil, lavender, lemon— were the basis for the Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day product scents.
"At one time, we had this trailer that was designed like her kitchen," Nassif said, referring to Thelma. "We used to take it to music events or places like the Embarcadero in San Francisco. People stood in line for that. They'd get samples, and she'd sign their bottles."
Nassif launched Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day and an upscale version, Caldrea, in 1999. By the mid-2000s, Nassif's brands were becoming part of people's daily lives. Caldrea, a premium essential oil-infused household cleaning brand, was sold at upscale grocery and specialty gift stores. Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day gained a foothold in mass-market retailers like Whole Foods, pushing the company to new heights.
So, when SC Johnson acquired the brands for an undisclosed amount in 2008, Nassif said the decision didn't come lightly. However, a phone call she had avoided for weeks changed everything.
Going international
In the early days, Nassif would often market her products at trade shows, where investors could be found searching for their next moneymaker. Among the curious crowd was SC Johnson, which owns popular brands like Windex, Drano, Ziploc, Scrubbing Bubbles, and Fantastik.
"A whole team from SC Johnson shows up during one of our first trade shows with Caldrea. We're probably maybe a year old, and our booth is so tiny," Nassif said. "I was trying to sell my product and needed to open wholesale accounts, so I asked them politely to leave, but I knew why they were interested. I'm sure we were very fascinating to them."
Nassif said she ignored "countless private equity and venture capital guys" for years as her brands grew.
"I always asked all these potential investors one question: "What can you do for us that we can't do for ourselves?" Nassif said. "We were great at marketing, and pretty good at sales."
Other areas, though, were less successful.
"Distribution and scaling rapidly, not so great," Nassif said. Still, Nassif kept her head down and pushed forward until she got a call from SC Johnson.
"I refused that call for weeks. I didn't even know who it was," Nassif said. "But it gets to a point where you go, 'I want this to be bigger. This is a great brand. It deserves to be in the hands of people who can scale this much better than we can.'"
She added: "We neither had that skillset nor the capital to figure it out."
Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day is now sold in major retailers across the United States, Canada, and Singapore. Both brands have products available through online retailers like Amazon.
Failed retirement
"I Bottle My Mother," by Monica Nassif
Monica Nassif
Nassif retired from the company in 2010. She was 53. Her days out of the office didn't stick, though.
"I failed retirement," Nassif said. "I liked working. I liked creative projects. I liked being involved in startups. They have incredible energy, and it really keeps you alert and aware of what's happening."
Most recently, Nassif wrote a part-memoir, part-business guide titled "I Bottled My Mother," which hits shelves on March 24.
"I speak to entrepreneurs and the questions are always the same," Nassif said. "'How do you do it? Where do you get your ideas? What should I do first?' I thought it'd be fun to do a startup manual. Hey, if you're thinking about starting a business, here's how to go about it."
She also wanted to honor her mother.
"It's really a childhood memoir about how the Mrs. Meyer's brand came into being," she said.
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