The Sweetest Comeback

Sucré Shack musings from our founder.

It’s no secret that the brand navigated and weathered an interesting season. Transparently, a whole year. Everything slowed down—rollout delays, then the burglary. And to keep it real, I’d just given birth in January to the sweetest 5lb heiress. My attention was scattered and stretched thin in multiple directions.

So when Sucré’s studio was hit, the Sagittarian optimist in me took it as a sign. Like, girl…chill out. Shut down the site. Get your rest and reflect on all you’ve birthed this year. Allow space for your joy and pleasure. Nordstrom had just picked up Sucré, and I hadn’t even allowed myself to celebrate. I hadn’t had the room to conjure up new Sucré experiences from a deep, intentional place.

So I did the only thing that felt true: I shut everything down and went silent. And it felt amazing. In the quietness, things finally started to flow easily. My creative brain could breathe again.

I began stitching together concepts I’d been sitting on for a couple of years, and that’s when The Sucré Shack came to life—a visual love letter to juke joints and deep pleasure.

And yes, juke-joint-inspired visuals have had a moment these past few years, but the essence has gripped me long before its rise in popularity.

Back in 2018, I paid a visit to my Auntie Ann in Uniontown, Alabama—a historically Black town with a population of approximately two thousand people. Next to her crimson red home sat a vacant-looking grey brick shack. ‘You wanna go to the club tonight?” she asked. Of course, I replied “yes” and asked where? She pointed toward the shack and cracked a cute smile, showing a peek of her gold tooth. At around 9 pm, we made the 20-foot walk to Miss Geneva’s. Immediately, upon entrance, I was greeted with an overflow of drinks (gin per my polite request) and a warmth that already knew me as ‘Les’s daughter.’

The freedom and comfort I felt there have been unmatched. And historically, juke joints were refuge—our refuge. A place to exhale from the weight of the world.

We’ve seen its essence echoed in art and culture: The Sugar Shack by Ernie Barnes, Shug Avery and Celie in The Color Purple, Sinners, Queen & Slim, and those dimly lit spoken word jazz clubs—think Darius Lovehall spilling his heart to Nina in Love Jones. Time after time, these spaces remind us that joy and pleasure are sacred and ours to keep.

Creating this campaign became that same kind of refuge for me. And it arrived right on time.

Hips swinging to bluesy, sultry croons over heavy bass. Glasses clinking over full-bellied laughter in a smoked-out red room. Whiskey and gin concoctions poured by the baddest bartender.

The Sucré Shack represents healing, rest, and refuge through creativity. It’s raw passion and warm, pleasurable heat captured on digital and film by my sister and friend, Victoria Louisa Sanders.

So take these visuals as my love offering to you. At the Sucré Shack, your joy and pleasure take center stage.