There are moments in life that don’t need to be explained—only felt. That’s exactly how I experienced Sweet Tea’s Beauty Supply for the first time, through a video that wasn’t selling anything but instead offering something deeper: a moment, a feeling, a reminder.

The scene is familiar yet sacred—a Black woman washing a Black man’s hair. There’s care in her touch, trust in the way he leans back into her hands. The kind of trust that isn’t loud or performative but understood. When the scene shifts, he’s sitting between her legs, head tilted slightly forward as she retwists his locs, the rhythm of their banter as natural as the coils in his hair.

“So you saying next time I can just walk up on you?” he asks, his tone teasing but searching.
“Yes,” she says without hesitation. “You can just walk up on me. Like, I want you to walk up on me.”

And that’s when you feel it—that warmth, that safety, that ease that only exists in spaces where we see and understand each other. Where no translation is needed.

He grins, looking ahead. “You know what’s crazy? I can tell you smiling even when I’m not looking at you.”

And just like that, I was hooked.

This wasn’t just a beautifully shot moment—it was us, at our most real, our most intimate, our most authentic. It was Black love, not in the grand, cinematic gestures, but in the small things. The way we flirt. The way we care. The way our hair, our hands, our words carry generations of understanding without ever needing to say too much.

And that’s what makes Sweet Tea’s Beauty Supply special. It’s not just about hair products—it’s about culture. It’s about the hands that braid, the aunties who oil scalps, the kitchen-sink wash days, and the moments of tenderness that remind us that our beauty, our rituals, and our connection to one another are sacred.

The beauty supply store has always been more than just a place to pick up hair grease and a fresh pack of braiding hair. It’s a cultural watering hole. A space where conversations stretch longer than the checkout line, where advice is given freely—whether you asked for it or not. It’s where we learned how to press, twist, and lay edges before we ever did it ourselves.

For those of us who grew up in the neighborhoods across the world, walking into a beauty supply has always been like stepping into a second home. The smell of oils and pomades lingering in the air, the soft hum of R&B playing just low enough to catch bits of conversation between aunties and young girls picking out beads. It was community. It was tradition. It was us.

That’s the heartbeat of Sweet Tea’s Beauty Supply—not just a store, but a space that feels like it’s been sitting on the corner for decades, a staple in the neighborhood. It carries more than just products; it carries stories. The traditions of self-care passed down through hands and time, the intimate moments of washing, detangling, and styling that make up our history.

Bridget Botchway, the visionary behind this amazing work of art and Sweet Tea’s, is building something deeper than retail. This future brick-and-mortar space will be infused with culture and care, designed not just for transaction but for connection. A beauty supply, yes, but also a custom concept space where hair education, storytelling, and community live side by side.

And that name? Sweet Tea’s—a nod to her mother, Theresa, and a reminder that all things worth having should be poured into with love.

Because at the end of the day, the best beauty supply stores aren’t just about what’s on the shelves. They’re about who walks through the doors, what they leave with, and how they carry that care back into the world.

This piece of art? It did something for me. It reminded me just how beautiful we, the culture, really are.

Click Here to Watch The Video

Project Credits:

Writer / CD: @botchwavy

Video Director/Editor: @josshflores

Gaffer: @carson_d4

Sound: @sound_guy_ethan

Production Assist: @dorcasthete

Male Lead: @city.james

Photographer: @lefilmmm