We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Tina Hillstrom a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Tina, appreciate you joining us today. Alright, let’s jump into one of the most exciting parts of starting a new venture – how did you get your first client who was not a friend or family?

Selling my art has always come as naturally to me as breathing—mostly because I couldn’t stop creating it, no matter where I wandered. I kicked off my artistic adventures back in junior high, where I’d donate my masterpieces to school fundraisers instead of baking cookies. Let’s be real: I would’ve devoured those cookies before they ever hit the bake sale table, so art was the safer (and less caloric) choice.
My very first “sale” was hilariously accidental. I’d painted this epic, larger-than-life black-and-white rearing horse as a birthday gift for my dad—because why go small when you can go grand scale, right? Turns out, it was way too massive for our cozy house, like trying to fit a wild stallion into a studio apartment. So, Dad cleverly hauled it to his swanky furniture store, Camelot Furniture in Bloomington, Minnesota. Lo and behold, it galloped off the walls and sold in the first week! Sure, it was meant to be his present, but I was secretly thrilled he pocketed the cash—and even more charmed when he slipped me a groovy percentage. Who knew my doodles could turn into dollars? From school halls to high-end showrooms, my art’s been charming its way into hearts (and wallets) ever since.

Tina, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?

My launch into the wild world of interior design and creative entrepreneurship wasn’t just a gentle nudge—it was a full-throttle catapult, courtesy of my larger-than-life father. He was a legend in the biz, rubbing elbows with the mayor of Las Vegas in the swinging ‘60s (shoutout to Warren Gregson for keeping the neon lights buzzing). After we left Las vegas and my communion breakfast at the Riviera hotel and breaking up with my boyfriend guy Gustafson, whose father owned the Tropicana hotel, I moved back with my dad to Minneapolis Minnesota. After school, I was his apprentice by the time I graduated high school I was on the sales floor after I apprenticed under him as his trusty interior design sidekick, learning the ropes like a secret agent mastering espionage. My father had excellent taste. Mine was superior.
But I didn’t stop there; I stormed the gates of Dayton’s department walking a sales position in their furniture department only to become their top instore “master planner,” orchestrating home makeovers with the precision of a symphony conductor—for a couple of whirlwind years, at least.
All the while, I was juggling more balls than a circus performer: churning out artwork that could stop traffic, strutting my stuff as a model on runways from Minneapolis to Chicago and Dallas (because why not conquer the Midwest and beyond?), and even sneaking into the spotlight in Prince’s iconic films, Purple Rain and Graffiti Bridge. Okay, fine—I was cast purely for my killer wardrobe from fab designers like Theirry Muglar and Yves Saint Laurent, landing me in those smoky bar scenes with zero lines but maximum flair. Who needs dialogue when your outfit does the talking? It was a riot, and let’s just say I owned those cameos like a boss.
Amid the glamour, I crushed it at Dayton’s Roseville home store as their top salesperson—number one locally and a solid number three across the entire empire, year after year. But empires are for conquering, not settling, so I boldly launched my own venture: a quirky little furniture boutique dubbed “Le Baroness Furniture by Tina O,” which evolved into the sleek “Interiors by Tina O.” Think of it as my rebel yell in the design world—offering everything from bespoke furniture and custom interiors to art pieces that pop with personality. I solve the ultimate client conundrum: turning bland spaces into jaw-dropping sanctuaries that scream “you” (without the actual screaming, unless that’s your vibe). Whether it’s sourcing that perfect vintage chair or reimagining a room to fix flow disasters, I banish boring homes and usher in vibes that make life feel like a perpetual adventure. Still dabbling on canvas, but my Canvas at this time in my life was the home. And doing so I acquired a real estate license so that I could also promote the sale of the house or started staging the house that was before it became super popular and I would throw cocktail parties that everybody wanted to go to and the house would sell. I always Co-listed as I found a house sales a little too slow for
What sets me apart? Oh, darling, where do I start? Politically, I’m a card-carrying Young Republican with a conservative core, but I’m no wallflower—I’ve dashed through parties on both sides of the aisle like a social ninja, charming everyone from lakeside moguls to classic neighborhood folks in Minneapolis. My style? Commanding and thunderous, like a storm that rolls in and leaves everything refreshed. People crave my unfiltered opinions (free for friends, hourly for the rest), and I’m thrilled to deliver—then turn those visions into reality, building empires one couch at a time. I’ve sold it all: furniture, classic cars (I collected them like trophies), even automobiles during a post-husband-number-one glow-up, where I zoomed to the top salesperson spot at Key Cadillac. I collected everything from a 1962 coupe Deville Cadillac in 1962 Rolls-Royce 65 Mustang two of them as a matter of fact I couldn’t decide between a blue one or a red one I bought both of them. Until, plot twist, I got swept off my feet by a dashing gentleman, jet-setted around the globe like a glamorous spy thriller, and reopened my store with even more panache.
In a sea of cookie-cutter designers, I’m the witty wildcard—the one who blends artistry, sales savvy, and a dash of Hollywood hustle to create spaces that aren’t just lived in, but legendary. Who else can say they’ve gone from Prince’s bar scenes to brokering Bentleys, all while making your living room the envy of the block? It’s not just design; it’s a Tina O adventure, and honey, you’re invited. At the time I also was a movie Credit often on and gossip colonist. There wasn’t anything that somebody didn’t ask me to do sometimes I got paid sometimes I did it for the art of it. But I was on the scene and the music scene in Minneapolis was the hottest thing in the late 70s and early 80s and I had a blast. Nothing will ever be like that again and I was there bathing in the electricity of the Twin cities.

For you, what’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative?

What’s the most rewarding part of being an artist and creative whirlwind? Hands down, it’s my superpower to pivot on a dime—like a caffeinated chameleon, I can switch directions faster than you can say “plot twist.” Take my wild ride with Cinestar Magazine, for instance. I teamed up with the fabulous Cindy Redmond, and what started as a scrappy little newspaper ballooned into a full-blown cable network TV show. Before I knew it, she was lighting up the airwaves, while I snagged a spot on the Minneapolis Film Board, rubbing elbows with the city’s cinematic movers and shakers.
But hold onto your popcorn, because the adventure escalated when a plucky young filmmaker hit a funding wall. My husband swooped in as executive producer and chief distributor for the cheeky documentary Michael Moore Hates America—a film that didn’t just stir the pot; it flipped the whole kitchen upside down. That project catapulted us straight to Beverly Hills for a rendezvous with Hollywood legend Robert Evans (yes, the Robert Evans of Paramount fame). Why? Our star, the irrepressible Andrew Breitbart, was itching to meet him, dazzled by our political prowess. I’d been knee-deep in the game myself, serving on Senator Norm Coleman’s finance committee, and Andrew had his own personal reasons for wanting to connect with the senator and his wife.
Next thing you know—poof!—we sold our Minneapolis digs in 2005 and traded snowy winters for sunny guest-house living at Evans’s iconic estate. It was like upgrading from coach to first-class in life’s grand theater, all because creativity isn’t just about brushes and blueprints; it’s about leaping into the unknown with style, sass, and a killer network. Who knew doodling in junior high would lead to Tinseltown guest quarters? That’s the magic of the pivot, darling—endless reinvention, zero regrets.

Well, I wasn’t about to start my new career after the kids and my third and most loving husband, Dr. Brad Hillstrom, who is as adventurous as I was. I didn’t feel like I wanted to tackle the interior design world as I was more into the social scene. One day I was dropped dead board and decided to start my own clothing line called “Wannawear by Tina O.”

I took the classic silhouettes of the 60s and reinterpreted designers like a Rolland Morette or Victoria Beckham who I was actually in TV special with, and for four years I trust everyone that was in the local news to Lisa Vanderpump who was a real housewife of Beverly Hills. And the reason she was the housewife of Beverly Beverly Hills was because my husband did not want me to be a housewife of Beverly Beverly Hills on the television show so I introduced the producers of the real housewives of Beverly Beverly Hills to Lisa Vanderpump

Is there a particular goal or mission driving your creative journey?

Is there a particular goal or mission that drives me? Oh, absolutely—it’s the electric buzz of being utterly, unapologetically alive, soaking up the world’s chaos like a sponge in a monsoon, and anchoring myself firmly in the glorious mess of the present moment. I don’t just survive; I thrive on turning “what if” into “watch this,” excelling at life’s impromptu plot twists with the flair of a seasoned improv artist.
Case in point: during the COVID lockdown, when the globe collectively hit pause and retreated to couches for endless Netflix marathons, I flipped the script. I snatched up a guitar, wrestled it into submission through self-taught sessions (picture me strumming away like a rock goddess in pajamas), and unleashed a torrent of canvas creations that didn’t just capture eyes—they captured wallets, selling out as if they were front-row tickets to a comeback tour.
But let’s trot out the star of the show: my magnum opus, a life-size horse sculpture commissioned by my stellar equestrian pal, Lee Courtney, for the Rotary Club of Scottsdale’s charity extravaganza. Amid a stable of 15 painted steeds, mine pranced to victory as the top-seller and undisputed eccentricity champ. This wasn’t your average equine art; it was a riotous pop culture parade from the ’50s sock-hop era to the ’80s neon explosion—hand-painted icons, decoupaged legends like Bob Dylan and Pepsi logos, graffiti flair, and a rainbow cascade of colors, all gleaming under a polished sheen with hooves that glittered like silver stardust. Imagine a wild stallion galloping through decades of cultural confetti: comic bursts of “Pow!” and “Zap!”, rockstars mid-riff, Hollywood divas, and street-art swagger, all fused onto its form in a vibrant, chaotic symphony that raised funds and spirits alike.
Then, in a twist sharper than a villain’s monologue, fate dealt a heavy hand. I was blindsided by polycythemia vera, that insidious red blood cell cancer lurking undetected for years, culminating in a pulmonary embolism that ravaged my left lung and confined me to oxygen tanks for six interminable months. My husband, a former Mayo Clinic maestro, still marvels at my survival, calling it a medical miracle wrapped in sheer stubbornness. Recovery? It’s been a saga of open-heart surgery and ongoing battles, leaving me teetering on life’s tightrope in those proverbial high heels—graceful, determined, but ever so fragile.
Yet, what propels me forward now is the quiet triumph of dawn’s first light, the simple act of creation in stolen moments, and the daily gaze upon my own horses—majestic creatures I can’t yet ride but who remind me that vitality is a gift, not a given. My husband, my unwavering lifeline through the storm; my four extraordinary children and four cherubic grandchildren—they are the true artistry of my existence, a living tapestry far more profound than any canvas or sculpture. In their laughter and love, I find the heartbeat of it all, a poignant reminder that even in fragility, family is the masterpiece that endures, rendering every breath a victory etched in the soul. All in all my family is my biggest and best masterpiece.!

Contact Info:

• Instagram: Tona_Hillstrom
• Facebook: TINAO.KISSTHIS
• Twitter: TinaHillstrom1

Image Credits

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