We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Nina Ganci. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Nina below.

Nina, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Can you talk to us about how you learned to do what you do?

I grew up in an era where a stack of printer paper and a pen was entertainment for a long car ride. I didn’t know at the time, but there was a unique combination of coming from creative, open, and loving parents, and them not having a ton of extra money that helped to begin the development of much of what I still love to do today. I used to pretend to be Bob Ross, narrating my rudimentary paintings at the kitchen table with my twin sister. I made clothes for my inclusive community of troll dolls and hand me down Barbies. I made up blue’s songs about wanting pizza for dinner when my parents’ said no. The first haircut I gave myself was bangs that were accidentally micro the day before 7th grade picture day. My first experience with hair color involved a pharmacy purchase of boxed dye, and a chemical haircut.

I guess my point is, there is no rushing the process. Experiencing the mixed results of looking curiousity in the face, and scratching the itch without knowing the outcome is the pathway to knowing. True confidence and ability, in my experience was marching steadily forward at a turtle’s pace. I learned to see failure as a nudging opportunity. Accepting that there is always more to learn opened up doors for me to have amazing mentors and creative connections. It’s about being open and trusting who I am. Always. About talking about what I’m passionate about and listening to other people’s stories and passions. A pulsing force of sustainable inspiration. The only true obstacles at any given moment on the path were my self-limiting beliefs. And choosing to give up instead of asking myself ” what else is there?”.

Nina, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I’m a multi-faceted creative — an artist, a musician, a salon owner and hair stylist, a clothing designer, and a lifelong maker of things. My work lives in a lot of different forms, but the heart of it is the same: I create experiences, spaces, and pieces that help people feel more like themselves.

I grew up in a house that valued creativity. I am an identical twin as well- and there was a lot of cross-inspiration and an emphasis to me on identity- driven expression. My early creative education came from things like wearable lego crafting, turning poems into songs, and giving my sisters’ haircuts from their movie idols. We didn’t have a lot of extra money, but we had imagination, encouragement, and permission to be weird — and I think that became the foundation for everything I do now.

Hair was my first official “discipline” — a place where creativity and care intersect. It was an economy safe way that I could self-fund all my other endeavors. I eventually built my own salon space, where clients don’t just come for a cut or color, but to feel seen, safe, and inspired. At the same time, music became a way to give voice to the things I couldn’t always say — soft truths, deep questions, emotional textures. And fashion? For me, it’s wearable storytelling. My designs are often rooted in memory, mood, or meaning.

I think what sets me apart is that I don’t see these things as separate. They all inform one another. A new clothing collection might start with a lyric. A haircut might feel like a ritual. Everything I make or share is an extension of the same driving force: curiosity, community, and the courage to create without needing it to be perfect.

What I’m most proud of isn’t a specific project — it’s that I never stopped following the thread. I’ve stayed true to my creative instincts, even when the path felt unclear or slow. And I’ve built spaces — physical and emotional — where others can feel that too.

If you’re just finding me, what I want you to know is this: my work is for people who are figuring it out in their own way, too. People who feel deeply, dress differently, cry at songs, cut their own hair sometimes, and want to live lives that feel handmade — on purpose.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.

Absolutely. I think one thing non-creatives might struggle to understand is that being creative isn’t something I do — it’s something I am. It’s not a job title or a weekend project; it’s the way I see, feel, and move through the world. Whether I’m painting, styling, singing, or designing, it all comes from the same deep place — a current that’s always flowing.

I’m not someone who has to wait for inspiration to arrive. If anything, I’m constantly catching ideas midair — like the world is whispering to me all the time. It’s not overwhelming in a stressful way; it’s alive, electric, and generous. I’ve learned to trust that rhythm — to let it guide me instead of trying to tame it.

So if you know a creative person, or love one, or are one… be patient. Be open. Ask what they’re dreaming about. Understand that making something from nothing is sacred work — and it doesn’t always look like structure or logic. Sometimes it looks like stillness, or laughter, or messy desks and color-stained hands. But always, it’s a form of love.

Creativity is deeply, deeply human. And when it’s nurtured — in ourselves or in others — it can shift everything. How we connect. How we express. How we heal. So if you feel that spark inside you? Follow it. Even if you don’t know where it’s going. That’s where the magic lives.

Let’s talk about resilience next – do you have a story you can share with us?

In March of 2020, I was furloughed from my 11-year job at an award-winning hair salon in Boston. My best friend was my boss, and he had just heard that my father was rushed to the hospital with COVID-19. My dad — my lifelong hero — had pre-existing health conditions that I knew made him especially vulnerable to this unpredictable illness. Within days, the rest of the world started staying home.

On March 21, after only a few days in the hospital, my father passed away. I said goodbye to his coma-induced body through his doctor’s phone, which was placed in a zip-lock bag for safety.

I was utterly distraught, housebound in my grief. To cope, I pulled out my sewing machine and started making masks. I taught myself how to quilt. The hum of the sewing machine became a calming rhythm that helped me process emotions I couldn’t yet put into words. I learned my father’s favorite song, “Somewhere over the Rainbow” and shared it on instagram with my twin sister to honor him.

When I returned to work in June, along with other “essential worker” hairdressers, I felt like my peers didn’t quite know how to be around me anymore. I was wearing fisherman’s overalls and Clorox — cleaning myself between clients. I had a different sense of what felt safe because I had lost someone. That isolation was hard, but I realized the connection to my clients was helping me heal. So, I decided to rent a private room and create the safe space I needed to carry on while I was healing.

My father’s attitude — “If it is to be, it is up to me” — felt like a guiding light during that time. I knew his spirit was with me, leading me toward safety and growth. A year later, I moved to Providence, where I found a big, beautiful studio to expand my work. I filled it with my paintings and started selling them off the walls.

Then, another year later, my mother unexpectedly passed away as well. Owning my own space allowed me to step back and learn to let the women I hired help carry the weight life handed me.

Looking back, I sometimes wonder how I carried on. But I’ve come to understand that the human condition is to keep going. And today, I have more confidence than I’ve ever had in my life.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://ninaganci.com
• Instagram: @ninagancihair, @american_echoes, @sissy.made.it