Khulan Davaadorj

The Question Every Founder Dreads #

Every entrepreneur reaches the moment when they ask themselves: “Am I building something that matters, or am I delusional?”

These people truly had Lhamour in their hearts. I realized it's not just about me anymore.

For Khulan Davaadorj (Хулан Даваадорж), that question got answered in knee-deep floodwater.

May 2016. Production facility in Ulaanbaatar (Улан-Батор). Water rising. Products floating. Equipment at risk. In desperation, she posted on Facebook: “We have flooding, can anybody help us?”

Within five minutes, ten people arrived. Not employees—she only had a handful. Customers. Young women she’d mentored through her NGO work. Attendees from her Women’s Entrepreneurship Day events. They waded through water in business suits, ruining clothes to rescue skincare products.

That’s when she understood: “It was always our customers or young people that I had mentored who rushed to help… These people truly had Lhamour in their hearts. I realized that what I had started had touched people’s lives. It’s not just about me anymore.”

The shift from “me” to “we” changed everything.

The Stranger in Her Own Country #

The path to that flooding moment began with displacement—the kind that shapes identity before you’re old enough to understand what’s being formed.

Born in Ulaanbaatar, raised primarily in Germany from age three when her father worked at the Mongolian Embassy in Berlin. Swiss boarding school where classmates came from diplomatic families and royal households. Working extra years as teacher to pay off education debts her parents couldn’t afford—the humbling reality behind prestigious credentials.

Third-culture kid displacement: too German for Mongolia (couldn’t read Cyrillic until university), too Mongolian for Germany (accent never quite disappeared). Perpetual outsider status that would later become entrepreneurial advantage—seeing market gaps that locals couldn’t perceive.

Then Columbia happened. 100% scholarship covering tuition for dual master’s degrees—International Public Policy from Hertie School Berlin, International Energy Management from Columbia SIPA. The education that should have guaranteed partnership track at McKinsey or policy advisor positions at international institutions.

Instead, she chose Mongolia. 2012: accepted position leading the country’s first wind farm project at NewCom Group. Made the decision in three days, moved with one suitcase, left family in Germany. The rapid decision-making that would later define her entrepreneurial style—when conviction forms, act immediately before doubt creeps in.

From Wind Farms to Kitchen Experiments #

The pollution-induced eczema wasn’t just a health problem—it was visible professional failure. Ministerial meetings with visible skin rashes. Client presentations where people stared at her inflamed face instead of listening to wind energy proposals. Having skin rashes compromised her life in ways she couldn’t explain to people who’d never experienced chronic skin conditions.

Mongolia offered exactly two solutions: imported chemical products from Russia and China (which made conditions worse), or nothing. Natural alternatives? Completely nonexistent.

The founding insight crystallized through personal desperation, not market research. If she—Columbia graduate with UN/World Bank experience and financial resources—couldn’t find natural skincare in Mongolia, what were millions of other women doing?

In January 2014, she enrolled in Formula Botanica UK—the world’s first organic skincare formulation school. For eight months, her kitchen became a laboratory: “I was not eating in the kitchen anymore, it was just like a bombarded test place.” Creating products while still working full-time on renewable energy policy.

August 2014: three products launched from her kitchen. Bath bomb. Soap. Lip balm. People told her she was “just going through a phase” because Mongolia’s whole economy was based on mining. They hadn’t seen a lip balm before.

September 1, 2014: opened Lhamour’s first office. The professional launch of Mongolia’s first organic skincare brand.

The Early Tests #

The first two years tested whether personal conviction could survive market reality.

Early setbacks forced rebuilding—personal investment, her mother quitting her job to join as General Manager, working day and night to create infrastructure from nothing in a market that didn’t know organic cosmetics existed as a category.

Bloomberg Television’s “Made in Mongolia” segment in June 2015 provided validation when she needed it most—international press attention that proved outsiders saw value in what locals dismissed.

But everything remained personal achievement. Khulan as hero. Khulan as sole driver. Khulan as irreplaceable center.

Then May 2016 arrived.

When Community Claims the Vision #

The flooding wasn’t just property damage. It was existential test: Would anyone besides her care if this ended?

The Facebook post was desperation: “We have flooding, can anybody help us?” She expected nothing. She got everything.

Ten people in five minutes. Business suits through knee-deep water. Customers she’d served. Young women she’d mentored through Mongolia Blossom, the NGO she’d founded in 2013 to advocate volunteerism and women’s empowerment. Attendees from Women’s Entrepreneurship Day events she’d organized—300-450 businesswomen gathering annually in a country where business networking meant drinking vodka with mining executives.

These weren’t employees following orders. These were people who’d absorbed the vision as their own.

“These people truly had Lhamour in their hearts. I realized that what I had started had touched people’s lives. It’s not just about me anymore.”

The psychological shift from founder-as-hero to founder-as-catalyst for collective movement. From personal achievement to shared mission. From “me” to “we.”

The Network That Proved Transcendence #

The flooding moment revealed patterns that had been invisible during daily operations.

Her Thailand distributor quit her corporate job to focus entirely on Lhamour. Not because the economics were better—because she believed in the mission enough to stake her career on it.

Her India distributor wanted to use Lhamour revenue to send girls to school. Not profit extraction—social mission extension.

These weren’t transactional relationships. These were people who’d claimed the vision as vehicles for their own aspirations. Khulan had accidentally built something that functioned as platform for others’ dreams.

“OK, I can’t stop. This is forever.”

The Maternity Leave Test #

The ultimate proof came in 2019. Khulan gave birth to daughter Anona and took extended maternity leave—the first prolonged absence since founding. Every entrepreneur fears this moment: Will the company collapse without constant supervision?

The opposite happened. The company not only survived—it thrived. Hit revenue targets. Maintained quality standards. Expanded distribution. Reached 70+ product lines without her micromanagement.

When she returned, the realization was profound and humbling: the vision had outgrown her personal control.

The psychological shift from founder-as-hero to founder-as-architect takes years to internalize. Most entrepreneurs cling to operational control long after delegating becomes necessary. Khulan recognized the transition: she was no longer running errands and filling orders. She was building institutional infrastructure—systems that worked regardless of who operated them.

Building Beyond Herself #

The shift from “me” to “we” extended beyond Lhamour.

Mongolia Blossom NGO (2013): volunteerism and women’s empowerment advocacy when civil society infrastructure barely existed in Mongolia.

SheMeansBusiness platform: creating spaces for female entrepreneurs in economy dominated by mining and livestock. Women’s Entrepreneurship Day events drawing hundreds of businesswomen annually—unprecedented gatherings.

Volunteer platform connecting 10,000+ registered NGOs in Mongolia—infrastructure-building that benefits ecosystem beyond her direct interests.

The pattern: see systemic gap, build solution, make it available to others. Character revealed through what founders do when cameras aren’t watching.

Today, 70+ supplier families earn income from traditions Lhamour commercialized ethically—nomadic herders maintaining traditional lifestyles while participating in global markets. The supply chain isn’t extractive; it’s symbiotic.

The 30-person workforce (100% women from marginalized communities: single mothers, women from Ger district, youth without formal opportunities) represents employment infrastructure that didn’t exist before Lhamour created it. The 10-woman production team has remained together for over a decade—institutional knowledge that can’t be poached by competitors.

The Recognition That Validated Community #

2025: EY Entrepreneurial Winning Women Asia-Pacific Class of 2025. Keynote speaker at World Chambers Congress in Australia. Shopify Masters podcast feature sharing lessons with global entrepreneurial audience.

But these recognitions validated what the flooding moment had already proved: people believed in the mission enough to sacrifice business clothes and professional appearances to wade through knee-deep water rescuing skincare products.

That’s not customer loyalty—that’s community ownership of shared vision.

The trajectory from Columbia-educated stranger to Mongolia’s organic beauty pioneer to global thought leader proves counterintuitive truth: founders who shift from personal achievement to collective mission create movements that outlast them.

Awards come after communities form. Press coverage follows institutional building. EY recognition validates what ten people in business suits already demonstrated in May 2016.

The Leader Who Built What Outlasts Her #

The question that haunted Khulan—“Am I building something that matters?"—got answered by people wading through floodwater.

The answer wasn’t in revenue figures or export numbers or award ceremonies. It was in the five-minute response time. In business suits ruined for mission. In distributors quitting corporate jobs. In daughters named after the movement. In systems that thrived during maternity leave.

What distinguishes Khulan isn’t credentials (though Columbia dual master’s degrees help) or awards (though EY recognition validates). It’s the consistent pattern of building for others: NGOs that serve women’s empowerment beyond her direct interests. Platforms that connect 10,000+ organizations she’ll never meet. Supply chains that preserve traditions she didn’t invent. Employment infrastructure for communities she wasn’t born into.

The ultimate test of founder character: Will the company thrive when you’re not looking? Maternity leave answered definitively. The vision had outgrown her control—exactly as movements should.

Today, 90% of Mongolia’s natural skincare exports flow through infrastructure she created. Thousands of businesswomen attend events she organized. Supplier families earn income from relationships she built. Young women she mentored rush through floodwater to protect the dream.

The question for other founders isn’t whether they can survive crisis—most entrepreneurial journeys include hard moments. The question is whether they can transform personal mission into collective movement. Whether “Am I delusional?” can become “It’s not just about me anymore.”

Khulan’s answer: post desperately on Facebook during flooding. Watch ten people arrive in five minutes. Understand that the shift from “me” to “we” is what transforms startups into movements, founders into leaders, and companies into institutions that outlast individual careers.

The real validation isn’t in awards or press coverage. It’s in how quickly community arrives when the founder asks for help—and whether they wade through water in business suits to protect something they’ve claimed as their own.

Last updated: January 15, 2026