I recently went one-on-one with Masiela Lusha. Masiela is an award-winning actress and is the founder of MAISON D’VUE.
Adam: Thanks again for taking the time to share your advice. First things first, though, I am sure readers would love to learn more about you. How did you get here? What experiences, failures, setbacks, or challenges have been most instrumental to your growth?
Masiela: It is a pleasure, Adam. I arrived in quite a roundabout way, actually. I was born in Tirana, Albania, and lived in Budapest, Vienna, then Macomb, Michigan, before finding Los Angeles. My mother and I shared one shadow through Europe, as she was a single mother searching for her ever-elusive American dream. Failure is a misnomer we hang on moments that are often discomfort, or learning, or simply being alive. Perhaps I grew up encased in a romantic dream world and I never grew out of it; perhaps I am missing that gene that encourages me to pause and reflect. Whatever it may be, I revel in discomfort, experiences, and sensations; to me, it reminds me that I am alive, and my world remains dynamic. I believe in that thrill in the gut that says, “Are you sure?” “Definitely not, but what a terrific feeling!”
But as it relates to setbacks or “failures,” I sincerely believe that if a person is breathing, they are experiencing, and if they are experiencing, they are succeeding in whatever chapter and whatever direction required at that time. They didn’t give up, and they are alive; and isn’t that glorious? What a feat. Because success is not linear, so our contentment shouldn’t be either. If it is, perhaps we aren’t doing it right, and are not pushing ourselves to our ultimate potential. With our own children, my husband and I call setbacks “happy accidents.” We revere their effort, and cheer along their ‘failure,’ as one more valuable opportunity for evolution. “Doesn’t growth hurt? Isn’t it absolutely divine to grow just a little bit more today, my love?”
Adam: In your experience, what are the common qualities among those who have been able to enjoy success in the entertainment industry? What advice do you have for those either trying to break in or advance?
Masiela: We hear the phrase “find your passion” loosely tossed into every inspirational word salad, but as a species, we are all innately passionate, aren’t we? And driven by a motor to advance in anything we do. That is why we’ve reached such incredible societal evolution. So, I’ve learned, it isn’t so much about the passion to pursue a craft; it is the resistless grit and hunger to sustain it. If someone is considering the entertainment industry, I would first ask, “Have you dreamt about your craft? No, not daydreamed while stopping at a stoplight, but in deep sleep. When your mind is free to wander anywhere, does it return to the craft? Then I would ask, “Do you have a Plan B? You do? Then drop this and pursue that.”
If you have a comfortable Plan B, I would suggest changing course, because to advance in a craft, especially within an industry so saturated with big dreamers and extraordinary talent, you would need more than ambition. You need to be perpetually activated in a fight mode of survival instinct, even if it is self-manufactured. You need to believe nothing else is possible but success, or your soul would cease to exist. You need to be so saturated in your dream that, in your mind, you’ve already succeeded, and the world simply has to wake up and see.
Casting directors feel that energy the moment an actor walks into the room. A dear friend of mine, a studio casting director, once told me that he can intuit within thirty seconds whether an actor is chasing the career, or whether they are so deeply committed to the craft that they disappear into the character before even stepping in. And that is the magic casting directors strive to bottle. They cast the rawness that takes them on the character’s journey. That rawness we all recognize in ourselves, in our own lives and varying ambitions. Though I find the most common quality among the greats in our industry is vulnerability married to humility. They understand their craft is bigger than themselves. They are building a legacy beyond their skin and form, and that is why I believe their characters transcend time and cultures; that is why we speak about their films a century later.
Adam: What is the most surprising thing about working on a major network television show?
Masiela: The most surprising lesson for me was understanding how many people it takes to create a thirty-minute television show. I mean humans. Dreamers, artists, craftspeople, entire set families united in one mission, breathing as one body. On George Lopez, we had a staff of writers, and every one of them, as I reflect on it, was consumed by our plots and characters. They lived, day in and day out, often until three o’clock in the morning in the writer’s room, shaping this gigantic, supple, malleable universe the show had created. One writer friend once confided in me that he would prolong arguments with his wife just to mine them for more comedic material. If that’s not living your craft, I honestly don’t know what is.
Adam: What are the best lessons you have learned through your career in entertainment that are applicable to those who will never earn a living in front of or behind the camera?
Masiela: The greatest lesson I learned is that those who make the rules can just as fluidly break the rules when the purpose demands it. So simple, yet so easy to forget. We are led to believe that what is written in ink is written in stone. And, frankly, even stone can crack open. I learned it isn’t enough to follow instructions or meet expectations. A creative needs to find their space in the world as fluid, always open to reinterpretation and possibility. No great mind with a worthwhile mission ever waited for permission to contribute an idea. They stormed into the room, perhaps broke into the room with a picklock, and decided the room will now listen. It’s also a conversation I have with my son when he says “I’m not allowed,” or repeats that familiar school refrain, “You get what you get and you don’t get upset.” I tell him, “Honey, sometimes you should get upset. Straighten your shoulders and stand as tall as God intended. Ask for that clarification; ask for reconsideration. And if you must, demand it.” But the grace is in the delivery and ease. Because the louder the voice, the smaller the power.
Biographies are my first stop in any bookstore, and one of my favorite anecdotes comes from Marie Curie. Stockholm, a bone-crushing, probably colorless, December in 1911. Marie Curie had just been awarded her second Nobel Prize. Three days before the ceremony, news of an affair surfaced in the French press. She was vilified as a homewrecker, and mobs gathered at her doorstep. The chairman of the Nobel committee wrote urging her to stay away. She went anyway. Her reply was gorgeously simple: the prize was awarded for the discovery of radium and polonium, and there was no connection between her scientific work and her private life. She rewrote the rules, defied the chairman, and reinterpreted convention, and she demanded her space be carved into the fabric of history.
Adam: Who are the best leaders you have been around and what have you learned from them? What do you believe makes an effective leader?
Masiela: Oh, Adam. This could be its own novella of anecdotes. I hardly know where to begin, so I will settle with the first two that come to mind. The creator and executive producer of George Lopez, Bruce Helford, and the dream boss any aspiring actress could hope for, Sandra Bullock.
Strangely, I knew about Bruce’s production company, Mohawk, long before I knew Hollywood. I was a bony little girl in Michigan, about 10, and my family loved sitcoms. We watched Bruce’s shows regularly, and I was always delighted by the little production slate at the end of one of his episodes. It featured a giggling fetus in an ultrasound. I think we’ve all seen it at some point. I loved that fetus; it was so unexpected and pure and delightful. It was the only production slate I remembered growing up. Years later, when I discovered it was Bruce’s production company, the first thing I blurted was, “I love, LOVE, your fetus, Bruce!”
Bruce wears his leadership casually, in the way he stands behind his words and vision and yet in the most unassuming, organic, easy, effortless way. He is clear-eyed and unapologetic. His delivery is clean. He lives his craft, yet possesses a reserve that inspires anyone to lean in closer and listen. Bruce quiets the room the moment he enters, and at the time he would enter in his black sweatshirt hoodie, black leather jacket, and jeans. I feel incredibly fortunate that twenty-five years later, he continues to be my mentor. That alone is a testament to his character. I simply adore his succinct delivery on what he expects from every person in his life on and off the set. In two decades, I cannot recall a moment when I wondered what he truly meant. His communication has always been that transparent.
Sandra Bullock is perhaps my first inspiration as an actress and woman. Naturally, I admired her before I met her. Though, in my opinion, she leads in an entirely different, perhaps more iridescent register, she is equally clear in who she is, and what she stands for, and what she believes in. Her core is solid, like a ball of gravity, and people naturally gravitate into it. On set, she moved through our set culture with warmth and humor, especially when it was needed during tense rehearsals. I found her to be one of the most socially perceptive and emotionally intelligent people I have ever met. Her ability to read the room and step into its rhythm effortlessly, and then gently change its atmosphere with nothing more than a well-timed comic relief has stayed with me ever since.
As I answer this, another thought comes to mind: fluency. The ability to communicate your vision with clarity, while reading the room with equal precision. Perhaps that is the defining characteristic of leadership, regardless of personality or profession. Fluency, inwardly and outwardly.
Adam: How did you come up with your business idea and know it was worth pursuing? What are the best lessons you have learned as an entrepreneur?
Masiela: I was thinking about this the other day. About all my passions, and how they are siloed into their distinctive industries, and yet to me, they all bleed into one coherent story and one body. I pursued acting because I couldn’t imagine another way of moving through the world. I dreamt about my characters, I listened to their music, I lived their thoughts over and over again until I wondered if they were my thoughts, and I tried to deliver their soul on set. I relished those days when I was the first one on set, and the last to leave.
Writing, a distinctly different field, carries the same blood and inheritance. I’ve been a writer for as long as I can remember, drafting poems since I was seven years old, writing from 4 am until 11 pm, only breaking for lunch. I love people and their dramas. I live in stories. I read people like short stories, or as heroes in their own Shakespearean comedies and tragedies. I find one micro-expression and it dissolves into a poem, a chapter in a book, or a character waiting to be written.
A dear friend of mine once asked me if I am clairvoyant because within moments of meeting her new friends, I felt fluent in their softest insecurities and world beliefs before they shared their name. And I told her, “Absolutely not. It is my training, my craft, my lifelong passion to read people. Those micro-expressions many will not pause to observe become entire monologues in my mind, before they utter their first word. I’ve already written their story as my next novel.” This drives my acting and my writing. I “live” people.
And now my passion as a founder and Creative Director of MAISON D’VUE is rooted in that same fluency. I want to give, and give, to our collective, and I aim to deliver it cleanly and purely. MDV is a beauty line dedicated to hero ingredients celebrated across cultures for centuries. I formulated the product the way the writer in me would craft a poem. As any poet will tell you, there is an economy to the craft. Every word has to earn its place. And if a word can be replaced, or removed entirely, then it absolutely should be removed, no exception. I formulated in the same way: if an ingredient can be removed, then why does it linger? It’s lovely, but it doesn’t drive the story forward. That became our philosophy: only ingredients that earn their place remain. The result is a formula that feels inherently pure, luxurious, and restorative.
Adam: What are your three best tips applicable to entrepreneurs, executives, and civic leaders?
Masiela: What allowed me the privilege of being understood was transparency, sincerity with a dollop of vulnerability, paired with an unapologetic essence in confidence that I hope holds the room without demanding it. And finally, a fluency in cultures and in oneself, above all. The number one advice my mother shared with me as we leapt from country to country with one suitcase was: “learn the language, learn ‘please,’ learn ‘thank you,’ first, and above all, learn the people.” That advice is carved into my DNA and carried through every single passion and decision I pursue.
Adam: What is the single best piece of advice you have ever received?
Masiela: I will share the most recent advice from a close friend of mine. As I was sharing with her and a few of our mutual friends an update on MDV, I apologized, suggesting I was perhaps too enthusiastic about this fun little company. She stopped me, looked me straight in the eye, and said: “Don’t you ever apologize for having a passion. Speak loudly, speak freely, and f*ck everyone else.”
Adam: What can anyone do to pay it forward?
Masiela: Refuse to add to the noise, and be honest about whether it heals or adds to the static. Most of what fills a day, the noise, the performance, the reels, the reaction, takes more than it gives. Pay it forward by building something that earns its place. It can be any inspiration: a product, a company, a sentence, a single hello to a stranger you sense needs it, a way of raising a child. If it does not elevate us as a species, remove it from your routine and vocabulary. That form of discipline is contagious. And it created some of the most memorable icons of our history.
I have now reached the age my mother was when she settled in her home in Michigan, and I often wonder whether we are the same or entirely different. I still don’t know. Though, I still think of us sharing one suitcase; every object had earned its weight. That is how I continue to live, and how I formulate, and how I recite my lines, and how I carve out every single word in a poem. Because this world frankly doesn’t need more of us; it needs better of us. And I try to be better.
Adam: Is there anything else would you like to share?
Masiela: Only this. I built MAISON D’VUE because there is a strange emptiness in luxury beauty right now. Glittering packaging. Influencer shock-value invitations. Endless fast-paced reels designed to hook and snare us within 3.2 seconds. And yet, there is very little that could survive health and safety. Or even legacy. Very little that deserves to be carried like an heirloom through generations. This is the discipline that opened the house. If a hair formula cannot be dabbed on the lips, it does not belong in our bottle. If a bottle cannot sit like a jewel on a granddaughter’s vanity fifty years from now, we will not ship it.
The same instinct runs through my acting and my writing. I have never been interested in the genres that flicker and fade. They have to matter. I strive to build roles that feel recognizable to women decades later, and poems they tuck into their purses because they describe an inner landscape more intimately than any inner monologue could. Three crafts, one drive, Adam. Make what lasts. Make what heals. And trust that the world, eventually, catches up to what was made honestly and with intention.
