Before the Doors Opened

How sobriety, faith, and conviction shaped the foundation of Mic's

There’s something about this season of featured letters that feels intentional, not because of reach or visibility, but because of how I’ve come to know the people behind the work. This is the third feature I’ve shared, and none of them began with a pitch. They all began with a relationship.

Michaela entered my world the same way. Leanne Ford was the one who first connected us. A simple text that said, “You should know her.” I’ve learned to pay close attention when I’m introduced to someone new because the right introductions don’t need overexplaining. They carry their own weight. This was one of those moments.

The second I walked into Mic’s, I understood it. It has that Nancy Meyers feel — light pouring in, people lingering, and well-curated shelves that make you want to buy everything. From the grab-and-go to the specialty menu items, everything feels considered but approachable. Clean food that’s both savory and satisfying.

What struck me about Michaela wasn’t just the shop. It was that Mic’s started long before the doors opened, rooted in sobriety, strengthened by faith, and shaped by a woman rebuilding her life from the inside out.

The Seed

ART: Take us back to the beginning. What was the moment or season that planted the seed for Mic’s?

MB: This is a very simple answer to a much longer lead-up. I was with two very close friends, married and very successful entrepreneurs. I was visiting them for Thanksgiving in their new town after they relocated during the pandemic for a simpler, purpose-driven life for their family. Days prior, they had told me I should open a restaurant in their town. I’m a passionate cook, but that idea was met with a HARD NO.

While watching It’s Complicated, the Nancy Meyers film starring Meryl Streep, the main character owned a beautiful bakery-café. As I watched it, something came over me, and I said, “I wouldn’t open a restaurant. However, I would open something like that, but healthy, like Erewhon.” The rest is history.

Rebuilding From the Inside

ART: Before there was a storefront, there was a feeling. What were you craving more of in your own life when this idea started to form?

MB: I had recently changed my whole life. I was fully committed to sobriety and started building a relationship with my higher power. I was exhausted from the rat race, chasing and keeping up with the Joneses. My soul was craving more purpose and less distraction. Sobriety removed the lenses and facades I had been hiding behind for years. Once they fell away, deep-seated dreams became more attainable.

Mic Check: Where in your life have you removed the lenses you were hiding behind?

A Name That Feels Like a Friend

ART: Your brand feels joyful, approachable, and intentional all at once. What inspired the name Mic’s, and what do you hope people feel when they hear it?

MB: On my wellness journey, especially living in LA, wellness felt intimidating. Like you had to be perfect, and there was no room for the in-between. I was always looking for people or brands that felt relatable on the journey. I wanted to lead in wellness that way.

My name is Michaela. My closest friends call me Mikey, and my CLOSEST friends call me Mike. I wanted a name that was quick, short, and had life. My friend Leanne was sitting in church one day and messaged me, “You should call it Mic’s, like a mic.” That was it for me. I want Mic’s to feel like your friend, not someone who is better than you.

Raised This Way

ART: Healthy eating means something different to everyone. When did nourishment become personal for you?

MB: When I look back, my mom raised us to eat like this our whole lives. She was buying organic and cutting out refined sugar before it was even a thing. She worked full-time and made all our meals. At the time, it felt like punishment. Now I see it as the greatest gift she gave me.

There’s a lot of illness in my family, and I didn’t want to get sick. Counterintuitively, I also liked to drink. I was a party girl, so wellness became a counterbalance. Once I stopped drinking and focused on my health, I finally knew what it felt like to actually wake up and FEEL GOOD. We aren’t meant to feel bad in our bodies. That realization changed everything for me.

Fuel, Not Fantasy

ART: Was there a turning point where food shifted from something you eat to something that supports how you show up in the world?

MB: As I said above, we aren’t meant to wake up feeling bad, or inflamed, or sore. I noticed immediate changes in my mental and physical health. It wasn’t exciting, or fun, or even pleasurable, but it’s not supposed to be. We’ve come to believe that every single thing we eat needs to be this joyful, pleasure-filled moment, but that’s actually not the case.

Food is to fuel our bodies. It’s a tool, just like gas in your car. Someone who drives an expensive car would never dare to put cheap gas or diesel in it. So why do we put cheap, wrong fuel in our bodies every day? You can buy a new car, but you can’t buy a new body. I feel so lucky to make healthy choices to support my well-being every day. What a privilege.

Where Faith Met the Work

ART: Opening a shop is as much an emotional leap as it is a business one. What did you have to trust yourself through?

MB: I tried to quit several times, and it didn’t work. That’s when I knew it was purpose-driven for me and not just a hobby. It wasn’t easy. It’s where I truly met God and faith. I look back and see God’s hand everywhere. The stress, the uncertainty, having no job, and the depression in the process — I had to practice what I preach and STAY HEALTHY. There was a moment where it slipped, and it was a lesson. People see a pretty store. I see the breakdowns, the prayers, and the perseverance.

Mic Check: Where are you being asked to trust the next step instead of seeing the whole staircase?

Inside Mic’s

ART: Mic’s feels less like a store and more like a meeting place. How important was community in shaping the way you built the brand?

MB: I spend most days behind in the kitchen because I’m socializing out front. I joke that I need a little window in the kitchen so I can talk to everyone. I genuinely love people and try to talk to everyone. If I’m not, my staff is, and the customers are talking to each other.

All the wellness girlies and healthy mamas of Pittsburgh come together at Mic’s. It feels like a gift. It’s this shiny corner that I’m proud of. And anyone is welcome, as long as they are kind.

Between the Kitchen and the Front Door

ART: What does community look like on an everyday level inside the shop?

MB: Sometimes people just want someone to listen. I try to do that. I try to make people laugh and feel joy. Some days are hard. I’m crying in the kitchen, wiping my tears, and hugging a stranger. I try to show up.

I think people forget there’s a human behind it all — imperfect, flawed, figuring it out. Even when I’m rushing food into the deli case and yell, “I love your coat!” as you leave the shop, it’s genuine.

Joy as a Discipline

ART: You’ve created something that makes healthy choices feel exciting, not intimidating. Why is joy such an important ingredient in wellness?

MB: They took a plant and gave it light, water, and food, but they told it mean things and never loved it. They gave another plant the same sunlight, water, and food, but told it it was loved, gorgeous, and important. It thrived, bloomed, and grew. The other one died.

It isn’t just what’s on your plate. It’s how you live your life and the environment you’re in. Joy doesn’t mean I don’t have bad days. Most days, I feel like I’m climbing out of something. But I try to laugh, count my blessings, be of service, walk outside, squeeze my dog, or pray. Joy is a choice.

Investing in Yourself

ART: For someone walking through your doors for the first time, what do you hope they walk away feeling?

MB: That it’s delicious. I want someone to walk into Mic’s and just FEEL GOOD. I want them to eat our food and realize healthy is TASTY. I hear a lot that it’s expensive, but I want them to feel the value in investing in themselves. Last night, for fun, I built a bowl at Chipotle with a Mexican Coke, and it was $31.95. There is no intention in that food.

We use the best ingredients we can find, local when possible, organic every chance we get, and high-quality, hard-to-find ingredients while still staying profitable. We are a business at the end of the day. I eat exclusively what we sell. If I wouldn’t eat it, I won’t sell it. Period.

The Staircase You Can’t See

ART: Looking back at the version of you before Mic’s existed, what do you wish she knew then?

MB: I meditate on this a lot. If I knew what it took then, I probably wouldn’t have done it. There’s a reason God only reveals the next step, because if I had seen the whole staircase, I would never have walked up.

I know it sounds annoyingly clichè, but trust the process. Never force your will. Anything forced will be harder and not peaceful. It’s been really hard, and being in public makes it harder. I have to deal with a lot of judgments, opinions, and unsolicited thoughts. It’s a lot for one human. It can feel lonely. But it’s my purpose, so I persevere.

Polished, But Not Precious

ART: And to close, how would you filter yourself through the TBOYchic lens?

MB: A few years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to answer this. Now I would say I’m pretty polished. I put flowers on our food as often as I can. I have details everywhere that make it feel elevated, even down to my ‘kitchen cashmeres’ I wear while I cook. I want to live a beautiful life.

There are fresh flowers all over the shop, much like my home. There is never a piece of dust on the shelves, and my staff are all happy and put together. However, it’s somehow still pretty funny and relaxed. I don’t take myself too seriously. I’m learning to relax a bit more these days.

Mic Check: What does polished but not precious look like in your own life?

Closing Reflection

You can build a beautiful store. You can curate shelves. You can create a vibe. But you can’t manufacture the why. Michaela’s began long before Mic’s existed. That’s what you feel when you step inside. And that’s the difference.

Stories like hers remind me why I care about who I choose to feature here. Not because it looks good on paper, but because I’m drawn to the story — the tough decisions that shaped the venture long before anyone saw it.

The work that lasts usually begins before there’s proof. Before there’s applause. Before anyone understands it but you. It begins with a decision. To change. To rebuild. To trust the next step without seeing the whole staircase. Those decisions shape everything that comes after. And those are the stories I’ll continue to make room for.