From Art History to Real Estate: How Victoria Alexander Found Her Calling in Brooklyn

For Victoria Alexander, the plan was to become a gallerist. After studying art history at Pace University, that dream felt well within reach.

Then she discovered real estate, and everything clicked.

Victoria realized the industry offered something she hadn't expected: a way to build a career around everything she loved. History. Architecture. Community. And, above all, Brooklyn. Rather than spending her days admiring art on gallery walls, she'd be inside 19th century brownstones, helping people navigate some of the biggest decisions of their lives. It wasn't just a career pivot. It was alignment.

Inspired by that vision, Victoria founded Realty Collective in 2005 at just 24 years old. She brought an unconventional résumé to the venture, having worked as a carnival barker, club promoter, 'zine founder, and classic car restorer. While none of those roles pointed naturally toward a career in real estate, they shaped the perspective she brought with her. At a time when the industry was often associated with transactional relationships, questionable ethics, and profit above all else, Victoria imagined something different.

With Realty Collective, she built a brokerage rooted in people, honest advocacy, and genuine neighborhood expertise. Victoria and her team attend community meetings, know the local landlords, understand the history of each block, and invest deeply in the neighborhoods they call home. That local knowledge makes them better brokers and better stewards of the communities they serve.

In this Q&A, Victoria shares how she built a values-driven brokerage, why Brooklyn continues to inspire her, and what it means to create a business that's as deeply rooted in place as it is in purpose.

Have you ever felt like you’re “different?” How has this contributed to your journey as an entrepreneur?

I never had much in common with the stereotypical NYC brokers. Ultimately, though, that ended up being the greatest gift.

I've always felt most at home being a little bit outside the norm. I built a team the same way: bringing together people who have rich creative lives outside of real estate, whose values align, and who you might actually want to spend time with. I genuinely believe that the "different" ones make better agents because they approach a home as a place where someone's life unfolds. A unique and empathic perspective makes all the difference for someone's experience.

What is your approach to incorporating social or environmental impact as part of your company’s culture and mission? How has this contributed to innovation, your team, and bottom line?

More than an "approach,” it’s just who we are. The values came first; the business followed.

The moment that crystallized everything for me was Hurricane Sandy. When my neighborhood was totally devastated by the storm and subsequent flooding, I instantly partnered with PortSide NewYork and volunteered with local groups for weeks, helping weave the threads of our community back together when the city felt nowhere to be found. That experience permanently changed how I understood what real estate actually is. We have a social responsibility to the entire community, not just the people writing checks.

From there, everything expanded. I served on Community Board 6 for eight years, focused on planning, historic preservation, and community advocacy. I helped found the Red Hook Business Alliance to support local businesses. I became a founding member—and now I am the chair—of Resilient Red Hook, and I've been a leading voice in the Voices of the Waterfront movement, advocating for the community in conversations about the future of the Brooklyn Marine Terminal. The decisions made there will shape Red Hook's character for generations. Last fall, I was invited to speak at Parsons' Urban Colloquium and this spring at the Waterfront Alliance conference on exactly this: our relationship to land and the importance of community-driven development and community voices in the process.

Inside the brokerage, the ethos shows up in everything we do. We run free monthly "Buying Into Brooklyn" workshops, which are open to anyone (not just clients!). We educate landlords on best practices. We host Compère Collective, a free gallery space on Van Brunt Street where we give artists and makers a platform to show their work and connect with the community. We support local nonprofits like Cora Dance and Red Hook Art Project. 

And we have a simple rule: we will not work with anyone whose values don't align with ours. That's not a marketing line. We've turned down business for it. Has this hurt us financially? Sometimes. Has it built us something more valuable than a transaction volume metric? Absolutely. Our clients refer their friends. Our neighbors trust us. Our team believes in what we're doing. That's the foundation of a sustainable business.

What have you learned about building a team and a support network around yourself?

Values are the biggest non-negotiable.

I have never hired for credentials alone. What I look for—and what I've learned to look for more precisely over the years—is alignment. Does this person actually believe that real estate is a relationship business? Do they understand that our job is to advocate for the people in front of us, not to close a deal? If I'm not sure, the answer is no.

The other thing I've learned is that I want people on my team who have rich lives outside of this work: artists, musicians, activists, people with strong opinions and deep community ties. That's intentional. It means they are embedded in the neighborhoods we serve. They know the neighbors, the local institutions, and the texture of the block. That insider knowledge is genuinely useful to clients, but more than that, it keeps us honest. When you live and work in the same community, you don't cut corners.

How would you describe the journey you’ve had in a few sentences? Would you do it all over again?

Chaotic, humbling, and unique. I started Realty Collective at 24 with a clear vision and a lot of nerve and not much else. I scaled up, scaled back, survived Hurricane Sandy, earned a master's degree, joined a dozen community boards and initiatives, opened a gallery in our office, and built a team of people I genuinely like and respect. 

I would do it all over again without hesitation—but I'd build the infrastructure earlier and worry a lot less about what "success" was supposed to look like. The parts of this work that have meant the most to me were never the parts that showed up on a scorecard. They were the first-time buyers who thought homeownership wasn't for them until we showed them it was, the artists who got their first gallery show in our space on Van Brunt Street. Real estate was just the container. The actual work has always been about people and place, and I'd choose that every single time.

What would you tell your younger self if you were to start your entrepreneurial journey all over again?

Staying small isn't failure.

When I first founded Realty Collective, I had a vision of building something big—and for a period, I did. I scaled up to four offices. Then, I had to make the painful, humbling decision to consolidate back down to one. At the time, it felt like going backwards.

But here's what I've come to understand: I'd rather be smaller and right than bigger and compromised. Growth for its own sake is a trap. The brokerage I have now is intentional and focused. We know exactly who we are, we know our neighborhoods, and we serve our clients in the way they actually deserve to be served. That's only possible because I stopped chasing scale and started protecting integrity.

The other thing I'd tell my younger self is: build the bones before you try to grow. In the early days, I resisted systems because I thought they'd make the work feel corporate—and corporate was exactly what I was trying not to be. But systems aren't what make a company soulless. They're what let you stay small and intentional without burning out. They free you to focus on the relationships and the community work that actually matter. I figured that out later than I should have, but at least I figured it out.

Finally: if you can, go to business school!