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Most founders pick marketing channels the way they pick lunch: whatever's familiar, not what the strategy actually requires. The real work starts earlier, with a brand audit, competitive intelligence, and clear customer profiles. Once that foundation exists, channel selection becomes obvious, because every channel has one job it does exceptionally well. Drawing on a case from her time leading marketing at a cannabis retailer, Jessica Grace shows why treating channels as complementary, not interchangeable, is what turns scattered marketing activity into an actual system.
Every physical environment communicates something — warmth or coldness, confidence or uncertainty, welcome or indifference. Most founders do not design that communication intentionally. They choose furniture, paint colors, and layouts for practical or aesthetic reasons, and end up with a space that sends a mixed or generic signal. At Treehouse, every design decision in 9,000 square feet was a deliberate brand statement. This article walks through what that looked like and why it mattered — and then makes the argument that the same principle applies to every touchpoint a brand controls, physical or digital.
Brand misalignment is not a design problem. It is a leadership problem. When a team does not share a coherent understanding of what the business is for and who it is for, that misalignment shows up everywhere: in how they talk to customers, in the decisions they make without asking, in the gap between what the founder intends and what the customer actually experiences. At Treehouse, building a staff education program was not an HR initiative — it was a brand initiative. This article makes the case that internal brand clarity is a prerequisite for external brand consistency, and walks through what it looks like to build it.
On the day California legalized adult-use cannabis sales, Treehouse opened its doors on a busy corner in Santa Cruz with 9,000 square feet of retail space, no brand, and almost no legal way to tell anyone about either.
That is not a metaphor. State law prohibited cannabis imagery and promotional selling material in any public space where children or minors might see it. It was legal to market directly to adults twenty-one and over, but because nearly any public or outdoor placement carried some chance a minor could see it, the restriction effectively closed off almost every physical and outdoor placement available to a retail brand. Every major social platform banned cannabis promotion and selling language outright, regardless of location or age-gating. On top of that, the regulatory environment was rapidly shifting making communication permitted one week, prohibited the next. Building brands in emerging categories wasn’t new to me. Building one where two of the most important marketing channels were effectively unavailable was.
Most founders in this position would describe their problem as "we need a brand and marketing plan." Treehouse's founders described it that way too, at first. What became clear to me pretty quickly was that the actual challenge sat one level deeper on a structural level. The law blocked two specific things: images of the product, and language selling it. Everything else remained open. You could not show the product. You could not sell on social media. But you could show up in public as a business that had nothing to do with cannabis at all: an art gallery, an artisan marketplace, an event venue, an active and contributing member of the local business community, a source of wellness content. And once someone chose to opt in, by walking in the door and joining the email list, or signing up for the loyalty program, an entirely different, permission-based set of rules applied. Inside that gate, we could talk about the actual product.
When I articulated the situation in my mind, the strategy became clear. That distinction, brand-safe channels for public reach and gated channels for commerce, became the whole architecture of the growth strategy. It's also why a generic "build a strong brand and let it carry you" story undersells what actually happened. This company was going to have to lead with brand alone at all top of funnel channels. Every public touchpoint would have to create interest without ever talking about the product itself. The brand didn't just need to be strong. It needed to be magnetic. The brand had to do a specific job in public, a different job in private, and never confuse the two.
When I came in, I found a founding team with a real vision, an openness to do something new and bold in the space, and a hard launch date. There was no brand, no marketing team, no retail concept, in a highly complex shifting regulatory environment, that also had some real barriers to entry and fear in the marketplace.
In an ordinary retail launch, brand identity, in-store experience, and digital marketing are three workstreams that reinforce each other but can each survive on their own. Take away paid acquisition and social selling, and the workstreams stop being separate pillars. Each needed to feed into the next seamlessly. The physical space had to become the primary marketing surface. The only way the company could express itself consistently everywhere was through the brand.
I made the decision to lead with brand values. The brand values became the actual criteria for every operational decision. And the small number of channels where cannabis could legally be discussed, in-store, email, loyalty, had to carry the entire commercial load that social media and paid search would carry for almost any other retail business.
That reframing changed what “building a brand” meant here and led to ideas that genuinely differentiated the company.
Three decisions did the real work.
The first was building the public-facing brand entirely out of things that were true about Treehouse but had nothing to do with cannabis directly. Most of this work was about community building. We built an in-store art gallery and a rotating artisan marketplace that gave local artists shelf space inside a high-volume retail location, and gave visitors something to take home that captured the vibe of true Santa Cruz. We ran a full calendar of in-store events, speaking, music, wellness, arts and culture, that positioned the space as an activity hub rather than a retail location. We showed up physically at events that already had public trust: charity 5Ks, the Chamber of Commerce, Earth Day, downtown music festivals. We produced written and video wellness content that could travel freely on social media because none of it touched the regulated product, and daily short-form video promoted the in-store and community events themselves. None of these activities were marketing around the brand. They were the brand. We needed to assure a seamless transition between our brand out in the world and our day to day operations inside the shop.
The second strategic decision I made was operationalizing the brand at every level. It spawned a whole new set of ideas and initiatives. One program that came out of that effort was Treehouse Selects. Essentially, Treehouse Selects was a brand partnership program built to do double duty. Partner brands ran educational sessions with the Treehouse team, and staff could choose to wear partner merchandise at work, and I designed custom, visually distinct product displays for each partner inside the store. Partner brands were featured at in-store events and promotions. This deepened product knowledge for staff and customers, gave partner brands a genuine in-store presence, and reinforced Treehouse's position as a place to learn and hang out rather than a place to be sold to. Customers could come to our regular monthly event, Sunday Sessions, listen to a local dj or band while interacting with Selects brands, who often had giveaways and daily promos. The program strengthened staff expertise, deepened partner relationships, and gave customers a reason to return regularly without relying on product promotion.
The third strategic decision I made, and the one that most directly explains the revenue numbers, was treating the private, permission-based channels as the actual point of commercial contact. We created the Loyaltree Program and the Treehouse newsletter. This is where cannabis products and in-store promotions could legally be discussed, so this is where the retention strategy lived. Customers earned points toward free product and discounts. The loyalty program converted first-time visitors into repeat customers and drove the increase in customer lifetime value. The program had to be generous and sticky to capture folks that walked into the shop for another event. The public brand built the reason to walk in the door once. The private channel built the reason to come back.

None of this ran on a large team. I built and led the marketing department from a standing start, content creators, designers, event staff, community managers, while managing four to eight external contractors at any given time, artists, web developers, media buyers, through a compliance-constrained buildout on a fixed launch date. Staff training went beyond product knowledge into brand literacy: what Treehouse was for, who it served, and why every customer interaction either reinforced or undercut what the founders had built. With almost no public advertising, staff were often a customer's first and most memorable brand touchpoint.
The holiday artisan markets doubled as fundraising events for local nonprofits, another channel that generated goodwill and press without touching the regulated product directly. That programming, alongside the broader events calendar, raised more than $10,000 annually for local causes.
Treehouse wasn't just another dispensary, they were an active member of the local community. Every community investment strengthened the public trust system. It wasn’t separate from marketing. It was the marketing.
Over 27 months, Treehouse beat its Year 1 revenue goal by 50% and grew total revenue to 3x the original goal. Customer lifetime value grew 4x, driven by the loyalty program. Average spend per visit rose 50%, driven by the artisan marketplace giving customers a reason to find something new on every visit instead of buying a single product category. Treehouse earned a Newsweek cover story along with national, local, and industry press, entirely through earned coverage of the public-facing brand: the gallery, the events, the community partnerships. Advertising spend promoting cannabis across the full 27-month engagement: zero.
Those numbers matter less as a scoreboard than as confirmation that the two-channel structure worked as designed. The public brand generated attention and trust without touching the regulated product. The private channel converted that trust into revenue. Each headline number traces back to a specific system built to solve one half of that equation.
"Jessica is a keen visionary with an impeccable ability to strategize and execute a vision from beginning to final stages. ...Her assistance helped establish a solid foundation that has allowed us to grow and succeed as a top business in our region."
— Bryce Berryessa, Co-Founder and President, Treehouse
The instinct when a channel gets restricted is to dismiss it entirely and lean hard into other areas. Sometimes that works out just fine. Sometimes that limitation stifles the growth as a whole and an organization just can't seem to ever break out. In this case, I chose to get creative and look for a workaround.
Every business, especially those just starting out or establishing a new category, operates under real constraints. Seeing those constraints as limitations and narrowing the scope of communications and outreach is the easy path to mediocre results. Oftentimes, if done well, the workaround can be a true differentiator in the market and really help a brand stand out.
My work at Treehouse serves as an excellent example of the true strength and power of brand done right. Treehouse also challenged another assumption I see founders make all the time. They expect every marketing channel to perform every marketing job.
In reality, every channel has a primary function. Instagram creates familiarity. Email nurtures existing relationships. Events create trust. SEO captures existing demand. When you ask one channel to do another’s job, strategy becomes noisy.
California law forced us to separate those functions. Public channels earned attention and trust. Private channels converted that trust into revenue. Once those jobs were clear, every strategic decision became obvious.
Want to understand the framework behind this strategy?
Read my article Which Marketing Channel Should You Invest In? Wrong Question.
A brand strategy is only as useful as the form it takes. These pages are from the Treehouse brand book — the foundational document that gave the team, the contractors, and every new hire a shared understanding of what the business was for and how to represent it. This is what it looks like when the clarity that lives in a founder's head finally has a form that holds.