How a pregnant designer, a tax wiz, and a library book kicked off nearly three decades of digital magic.

Let’s rewind the clock to 1996. Picture this: I was pregnant with my youngest, juggling a toddler, and running a one-woman graphic design business from my basement called Direct Design. I had a nanny in the mornings (a lifesaver), green tea in my hand, and life was good. I was designing CD covers for a record label (yes, actual CDs!), concert brochures, and event signage. It was all very rock-n-roll-meets-small-business-chic.

Then came the call.

It was my good friend Barb. She had a thriving tax business but was, in her words, “bored out of her mind.” Her pitch?
“Let’s go into business together. Something fun. Something where we can make some money.”  I mean, who says no to that?

Our first idea? Document archiving. (Yep. Filing. Scanning. More filing.)
I spent maybe two days researching that before realizing I’d rather alphabetize my spice rack daily for the rest of my life. Important work? Absolutely. But fun? Not even a little.

So I said, “What if… we expanded my creative business instead?” Next thing you know, we’re touring printing franchises, dreaming big. But the dream turned sour every time we walked out smelling like ink fumes. This was pre-soy-ink days, and we imagined migraines for life. Pass.

Then we stumbled across this curious thing: HTML. Websites were the new frontier, and we knew nothing about them. So I went to the place you went in 1996 when you needed answers: the library. I found the computer section, grabbed the first HTML book I saw, opened it, read one page… and promptly closed it.

I got in my car, drove to Barb’s house, and declared: “I’m in. But we are definitely hiring a web designer.”

Armed with nothing but a $3,000-limit credit card and a whole lot of optimism, we landed our first client. I brought over my Direct Design clients, and Avallo was born.

From day one, we knew we didn’t want to build websites that looked like a bad MySpace page. Remember those default blue and pink links? The bouncing mailboxes and “under construction” GIFs? Yeah, we said no to all that. We created websites that looked like stunning print brochures, sleek, custom, and thoughtful. And suddenly, our phones were ringing off the hook.

Then came 9/11.

 Agencies were closing, budgets were slashed, but we survived and grew because tech was the future, and we were already there.

And then, heartbreak.

In early 2005, Barb passed away from mesothelioma. Losing her was devastating. She was my friend and my business partner. But her passing reminded me how fragile life is. If you want to build something, build it now.

So Avallo evolved. We shifted from a design-heavy studio to a full custom web development company. I surrounded myself with intelligent, passionate, talented people. I’ve worked for bad bosses (and a few good ones), and I try every day to be the kind of leader who listens, empowers, and genuinely cares.

We’re small but mighty. We build beautiful, functional websites and marketing pieces that help our clients succeed—no templates, no shortcuts, just innovative solutions. If you can dream it, we can build it.

Looking back, I never imagined a library book I didn’t read would spark a decades-long business, or that two women (one pregnant, one bored) would build something that would last this long.

But here we are. Still laughing. Still growing.
Still having so much fun.

Julie