On a Whim: The Entrepreneur Who Turned Lab Skills into Art

If you’ve ever watched someone switch from “I’m trying to get through the day,” to “I’m building something,” then it’s known to not have happened in a straight line. Sometimes, it starts with a technical skill you never intended to commercialize. Sometimes it starts with a kiln you rent, a booth you rethink, and a first customer who shows up at exactly the moment you needed proof that you had something of value.

That’s the concept behind Camille McKay’s Myrtle Beach-based dichroic glass jewelry business, On A Whim Italian Style. She is an entrepreneur whose career began under microscopes and is living in vivid, dichroic light. 

Long before she designed oceanic collections, she was a health care professional — working for decades in pathology, including leadership across multiple locations at a major cancer center. She described her work in a way that’s both precise and personal. She managed the reality behind what she saw “under a microscope.” When retirement arrived, she didn’t stop. Not completely.

McKay explained that she published a textbook — yet still carried an emotional weight of knowing she had one life chapter that felt too complete. She moved to South Carolina, retired with her husband, and tried to replace the momentum with a smaller version of work: “I’m currently a professor at SUNY Empire State University … but I only work six hours a week, and that wasn’t cutting it,” she said, explaining that she craved something more to keep her brain and body busy. 

She returned to what she loved the most: taking art classes. Not just casual hobby hours, but real training guided by the same mentor who first taught her how to fuse glass into complex, high-sheen pieces. McKay credits that shift to more than creativity and more rooted in survival. Glass wasn’t a distraction — it was a way to reset her mind and explore a different path. 

Her business didn’t launch with a grand plan and a capital stack. It launched with persistence followed by practical decisions. She talked about how competitive art supply culture can be, and how even her mentor — who depends on her own studio income  — couldn’t simply “give away” access. So McKay made a deal: she would rent the kiln. Over time, she built a rhythm. 

In the beginning, she recalls feeling invisible. She recalls investing much money into materials and going to fairs until one buyer proved that what she created was worth it. 

Her first customer, and not someone just perusing, but someone who took a deep interest in her jewelry pieces led to her making a profit that she didn’t expect in a matter of a couple days. 

Her biggest lessons were altering her display to attract customers and understanding that her pieces will look drastically different indoors than outdoors. A vendor next to her, who had “mastered” the display art, told her to change how her display looked, and after taking that advice, she discovered how much table setup affected attention. Even her online strategy had to be altered — instead of listing generic pieces, she curated “little collections” that made browsing transform into exploring. 

If one thread that could tie her entrepreneurial arc together, it would be community relationships and partnerships. She described watching the art community as a place where people share access, trade resources, and more importantly — don’t compete in the cheapest way. She even framed it as a barter, where she’d buy in return for access to other resources. She also emphasized how her sourcing process reflects her standards and commitment to giving her customers the best. Her willingness to learn the technical constraints became part of her product identity because her glass doesn’t behave like generic craft materials. 

Her transparency with customers followed the same ethic. When someone asks if it’s real gold, she doesn’t pretend. “Not for 20 bucks,” she said jokingly. It’s the kind of honesty that builds trust and encourages repeat business.

She hosted neighbors and made it easy for people to see the pieces firsthand because the pieces change with light and angles. McKay is also learning to expand without abandoning the original reason she started: to keep her mind balanced, her creativity fed, and her life even more fulfilling. 

Her husband also helped when she hit earlier low points, suggesting that she find a way to sell fairy-wings-style work, given that she used to make them for their daughters. The early attempts didn’t immediately convert into revenue, but they kept her on her toes. Her motivation now is to build something she can sustain without forcing it into someone else’s definition of success. 

When she says she started her business, “on a whim,” she means with spontaneity. Her intentions are in the details of each piece. “If you could touch one person with it … you know you have something good.” Not luck. No noise. Only persistence backed by craft, community, and the willingness to adjust until people find the pieces. 

To connect with Camille McKay with On a Whim Italian Style, reach out to her via email at onawhimitalianstyle@gmail.com