“Forty-eight dollars,” Naomi said.
Ethan looked up. “We agreed on thirty-seven.”
“We agreed before the packaging redesign.”
Brightwell Skin occupied two floors of a converted warehouse in Brooklyn and had spent eighteen months developing its first premium moisturizer. If the launch worked, retailers would take the company seriously. If it failed, the founders would have difficulty financing another product.
Naomi Chen, head of marketing, wanted the moisturizer priced at $48. Competitors charged more, and customer research suggested premium packaging increased perceived quality.
Ethan Cole, operations director and Naomi’s friend since their first year at the company, hated the idea.
“It costs us under twelve dollars landed,” he said.
“That isn’t how pricing works.”
“I know how pricing works. I also know who buys from us.”
Their customers had originally discovered Brightwell through affordable cleansers and simple formulations. Naomi believed the company had earned the right to move upscale. Ethan thought it was abandoning the people who built it.
The CEO sided with Naomi.
Launch week looked spectacular. Influencers posted polished bathroom photographs. Two magazines mentioned the moisturizer. The first production run sold faster than expected.
Then repeat purchases disappointed.
Customer comments became uncomfortable: Love it, but not for $48. Guess Brightwell isn’t for me anymore.
Naomi initially blamed economic conditions. Then sales of the company’s cheaper products began weakening too.
Three months later, she proposed a smaller package at $32 while keeping the premium version.
Ethan studied the presentation.
“So now we have two prices?”
“Now,” Naomi said, “we admit there are two customers.”
The compromise worked imperfectly. Margins fell. Some retailers complained. Growth remained slower than investors wanted.
But customers began returning.
Naomi kept a $48 jar on her desk afterward—not as proof she had been wrong, exactly. As proof that customers could buy a product once for curiosity and refuse to buy it twice on principle.
Price of Pride
