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Story & Lesson Highlights with Latonya Smith

We’re looking forward to introducing you to Latonya Smith. Check out our conversation below.

Good morning Latonya , we’re so happy to have you here with us and we’d love to explore your story and how you think about life and legacy and so much more. So let’s start with a question we often ask: What do the first 90 minutes of your day look like?
Each morning begins not with noise, but with stillness. As the world stretches into wakefulness, I step into a quiet space of my own—sacred, simple, and steady. I start with a prayer. It’s not just words, but a conversation, a pause, a breath. A way to tune my heart before the world begins to speak. In that moment, time softens. The edges of the day blur. I reconnect—with purpose, with peace, with something greater than myself.

Then, I move to the piano. Fingers find keys the way raindrops find windows—gently, naturally. But always, there’s a rhythm. A release. The music becomes my second prayer—spoken not in words, but in notes and silence.

In those first 90 minutes, I don’t just prepare for the day—I create it. From stillness to sound, from inward to outward, I begin with intention.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Hello, I’m Latonya Smith — CEO, Founder of Lovely Candle Co., a brand born at the crossroads of creativity, intention, and quiet power.

By day, I lead as an engineering professional — shaping systems, solving problems, building futures. By night, I step into my own rhythm: candle maker, dream builder, and creative soul.

Lovely Candle Co. is my love letter to calm, clarity, and confidence. I’m currently working on what I call the scent of success — fragrances that inspire, empower, and elevate. Every candle is crafted with purpose and poured with care, from our signature Classic Collection, to the indulgent Luxury Collection, to the bold and affirming Power Collection — where powerful scent meets powerful statements.

But my creativity doesn’t end there.

I’m also an extreme LEGO builder — sculpting intricate worlds brick by brick. It’s another form of meditation for me — a space where structure meets imagination, and the smallest pieces become something grand. Like candle making, it’s about vision, patience, and the joy of creating something from nothing.

And when the world is still, I return to the keys. The piano is where I reconnect, continuing to develop my skill and letting music shape me the way I shape wax or snap together bricks — deliberately, passionately, with both discipline and wonder.

Lovely Candle Co. isn’t just about scent — it’s about presence. About honoring both the hustle and the hush. And about building a life that smells, sounds, and shines like you.

Okay, so here’s a deep one: What was your earliest memory of feeling powerful?
I found myself fighting for what was right at a young age. Before titles, before job descriptions, before I knew the language of leadership — I already understood fairness. I already knew how to speak up.

In high school, I was in AP Physics. I worked hard. I understood the material. I earned my grade.
But when my test came back — an F, instead of the A I had earned — the reason wasn’t my answers, it was a claim that I had been “talking in class.” It wasn’t just unfair. It was untrue. So I stood up. First to the teacher. Then, when that door closed, I opened another. I walked straight into the principal’s office and made my case — calmly, clearly, confidently. I didn’t back down. I used my voice. And I was heard. My grade changed to the “A” that I earned.

That day, something shifted. I saw what happens when power meets principle.And I realized: my voice could change things. That was one of the earliest moments I remember feeling powerful — not because someone gave me power,
but because I claimed it.

Was there ever a time you almost gave up?
There was a time I almost let go.

Life had shifted beneath me — my marriage ended, and with it, the map I’d been following disappeared. I forgot my purpose. My dreams felt like they belonged to someone else.
I wasn’t thinking about the next level anymore. I wasn’t chasing achievement.
I was simply trying to survive — one foot in front of the other, one breath at a time, one day at a time.
I fell on my face. I felt lost. Not angry. Not bitter. Just… lost.
But somewhere deep inside, a small voice remained.
It whispered, you deserve more, you will have an incredible life, just move forward.
It was quiet but steady. And even in my hardest moment, it kept me moving.
I had to find myself again.
I had to redefine life, not as it had been, but as it could be.
It was one of the hardest seasons of my life, but it was also a breaking open — a space where I could rebuild, stronger, truer, clearer.
That season didn’t destroy me.
It reshaped me.

Next, maybe we can discuss some of your foundational philosophies and views? What truths are so foundational in your life that you rarely articulate them?
Some truths run so deep in me, they don’t need to be spoken.
They shape how I move, how I lead, how I create — not because I say them out loud, but because they live in my choices.
Moral character is one of them.
Doing what’s right, even when it’s hard.
Choosing integrity, especially when no one’s watching.
Telling the truth — not just in words, but in action.
I don’t believe in shortcuts that cost your soul.
I believe in earning trust. Keeping your word. Protecting people, even when it’s inconvenient.
I believe your character is your legacy — and that reputation may open doors, but it’s your integrity that allows you to stay in the room.
These truths don’t need to be declared every day.
They show up in the silence, in the decisions, in the way I treat people — even when I’m hurting, even when no one sees.
They are the foundation I build everything on —
my work, my brand, my relationships, and most of all, myself.

Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: If you laid down your name, role, and possessions—what would remain?
If I laid down my name, my title, my roles, my possessions — what would remain?

My character.
The quiet force behind every choice I’ve made. The steady core that doesn’t shift with status or circumstance. The way I treat people when no one is watching. The way I show up when there’s nothing left to prove. What remains is the part of me that can’t be taken — only revealed.

The part that stands when everything else falls. Rooted in truth. Resilient through change. Shaped by faith, not fame.

Take the titles. Strip the labels. Silence the applause. You’ll still find me whole.

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