Today is Tết, Lunar New Year, and for me and my family, it has always been more than a date on the calendar. It’s a feeling—a rhythm, a pause before a fresh beginning. These traditions have stayed with me, and as I get older, I feel more connected to them than ever.

Growing up Vietnamese American in California, Tết marked the most intentional reset of the year in our home. It was never casual. Never rushed. It unfolded over days of careful preparation before the new year arrived.

Even now, as an adult and founder of Little Moony, those traditions quietly shape how I think about family, childhood, and the way we build this brand.

The Day Before Tết: Preparing the Home and the Heart

In Vietnamese culture, the day before Lunar New Year is about clearing space—physically and emotionally.

In our home, my mom and dad cleaned late into the evening. Not surface cleaning—real cleaning. Every corner, every drawer. Once the new year arrived, cleaning stopped. You didn’t want to sweep away your luck.

Sharp objects were put away. No knives and scissors were left out. And absolutely no quarreling. Words mattered. Tone mattered. The belief was simple but serious: how you entered the new year set the tone for everything that followed.

Clothes were washed and pressed in advance, haircuts carefully timed days before, and on New Year’s Day itself—no washing hair, so that nothing symbolizing luck or fortune would be cut away or washed out with the old year.

Food was prepared in advance so no one had to cook once the new year began. But more than that, good dishes take time, thought, and love.

Aromatic ginger chicken with rice is one of my favorites. Certain dishes appeared only once a year—foods that required patience and care. Pork slow-cooked in bamboo until tender. Sweet sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves, prepared days ahead.

Food wasn’t just nourishment. It was memory. A way of telling us this day was different.

As a child, I remember the calm after the cleaning—the house quieter, lighter, ready.

At Little Moony, I think of this as setting intention. We tidy our shelves. We reset displays. We slow down before what’s next. It’s the same instinct: create space so something new can arrive. At Little Moony, we design children’s clothing with the same care and intention that shaped these traditions.

New Year’s Day: Beginning Gently

Tết Day itself is meant to be peaceful.

Before anything else, we quietly honored our ancestors. Incense was lit. Food placed with care. A moment of gratitude for those who came before us. The new year never began alone—it was carried forward. Today, we carry that same ritual with us. We stepped into the Little Moony boutique and paused in gratitude—for Little Moony itself, for our customers, and for our team. For everyone who supports us and believes in this dream.

Families wore new clothes to symbolize renewal. Elders gave lì xì—red envelopes—to children for luck and blessings. Words were chosen carefully. You avoided conflict. You spoke kindly, because the first day set the tone for the year ahead.

This idea—that beginnings matter—is something I think about often when designing for children. The clothes we make at Little Moony are often worn for firsts: first holidays, first birthdays, first family gatherings. There’s meaning in that.

Carrying Tradition as Vietnamese Americans

Living between cultures means traditions evolve.

Our Tết doesn’t look exactly like it did in Vietnam, but the heart of it remains. We still gather. We still dress our children thoughtfully. We still believe that intention, care, and presence shape the year ahead.

That belief sits at the core of Little Moony.

The Year of the Horse

This year is the Year of the Horse—a symbol of strength, movement, independence, and endurance. Horses move forward with purpose. They carry weight and they don’t hesitate.

We designed a horse dress this season with that spirit in mind. Something made for movement and play. For children growing into themselves.

A New Year, A Quiet Wish

Tết has always reminded me that we move forward by remembering—who we come from, what we carry, and what we pass on.

As we welcome the Lunar New Year, my wish is simple:

More presence.
More softness.
More room for play.

From my family to yours, Chúc Mừng Năm Mới—Happy New Year.
May this year bring health, clarity, and steady forward movement.