The rose that grew from adversity.

Alex was arrested with a two-month-old daughter at home. Getting back on his feet meant odd jobs and nights behind the bar. He sent a letter and talked his way into the best advertising school in the country.

He went on to become an art director at a few of the world's greatest advertising agencies. Monica had earned a psychology degree before studying creative advertising, graduating with honours and building her career at Leo Burnett and Zulu Alpha Kilo.

They spent years working on drinks and consumer packaged goods. Eventually, they wanted to put that work into something of their own. The tequila collection in Monica's family home helped them decide what it would be.

Monica grew up between Canada and Mexico, spending months with her grandparents each year. Her grandmother was a businesswoman and mezcal maker. Her grandfather was an entrepreneur and fruit farmer who went from selling gravestones to building a family legacy on the land.

For her family, Mexico was home and agave was in the blood — long before there was a brand.

The first label sketches had skulls. Monica's mother and grandmother wanted something different. Then, while clearing dead roses from the family altar, Alex was stopped by her mother: they were still beautiful.

That became the label: roses alive and dead, with beauty in both. The rose on the chain carries the same meaning beyond the bottle.

The agave is cooked slowly in brick ovens. Cooking prepares its sugars for fermentation, when yeast turns them into alcohol. At the distillery, classical music plays during that stage, a practice known as the Mozart Method.

For our core tequila, we settled on 46% at distillation after tasting trials at lower strengths. That is not the number on the bottle: deep well water brings it down to 40% alcohol, or 80 proof. Distillation and bottling strength are two different decisions.