Stephen Montoya
Emerald City Lounge Owner Candice Stinnet displays some legal hemp.
Back in August, Candice Stinnett was all smiles, cutting the ribbon on Fort Worth’s first cannabis lounge — Emerald City Lounge at 937 Woodward St. The room buzzed with excitement, the smell of hemp-derived products hanging in the air, and a vision that felt bigger than the city’s conservative reputation. Only four months later, Stinnett finds herself staring at a landscape that could make or break that dream.
On Nov. 12, 2025, the U.S. federal government quietly passed a law — buried in a spending and appropriations bill — that re‑criminalizes many hemp-derived THC products. The legislation narrows the definition of “legal hemp,” setting the limit at just 0.4 mg of total THC per container and outlawing synthetically derived cannabinoids, including some forms of delta‑8 THC. Enforcement doesn’t kick in until Nov.13, 2026, giving businesses a one-year countdown to adapt — or shut down.
Stinnett, whose Emerald Organics supplies both the retail side and the lounge, says the news is sobering. “It’s been a fun ride,” she admits, her voice tinged with both disappointment and defiance. “But when I saw national hemp companies starting strategies to stop this language from going into effect, that’s when I didn’t feel defeated.”
She’s optimistic that mobilization at a larger scale can save the industry, but she’s also preparing contingency plans. If Washington doesn’t act, she plans to pivot — whether that’s through advocacy, education, or another business model entirely.
Stephen Montoya
For Stinnett, the cannabis journey is deeply personal. Introduced to medicinal cannabis while battling stage-four lymphoma at 21, she discovered a plant that could soothe pain, anxiety, and stress. Now 15 years in remission, she views her business as more than commerce — it’s a chance to provide safe, reliable access to wellness products, and a place for community connection in a city not yet known for cannabis enthusiasm.
“People come to us when they just want to socialize and unwind after a long day,” she says. “Seniors, veterans, soccer moms — it’s a huge range, and they trust us to give them quality products and education.”
Yet Stinnett isn’t alone in navigating this tricky legal landscape. In North Texas, businesses like Martin House Brewing Co. have successfully experimented with THC-infused seltzers. Shugg Cole, who manages Branding and Marketing at Martin House, reflected via email: “We enjoyed making [the seltzers], but with the new laws going into effect next year, we have no plans to produce any more.”
Stephen Montoya
John Laughman, also known as "BEEF," is the brewmaster and head of production at Martin House Brewing Company.
Their best-seller in the taproom, Power House, came to life thanks to careful formulation, community feedback, and a creative spark from Lewisville’s Wyatt Purp. The cans’ striking artwork — a T-Rex with a laser gun and chainsaw arm, courtesy of artist Donny Four Fingers — now serves as a symbol of a product that, for a short time, captured the imagination of a new Texas audience.
“I don’t think we were really sure this was going to get as big as it has,” John Laughman, better known as “Beef,” former brewmaster and head of production at Martin House, said in a Feb. interview. “We were worried at first, but honestly, we haven’t seen a single person get out of hand. These seltzers feel like the future — at least for now.”
But that future seems less attainable given the new federal language pointed at closing what many in Washington D.C. call a “Loophole” in the Farm Bill, passed by President Donald J. Trump in his first term.
This cautious optimism mirrors the ethos at Emerald City Lounge, where Stinnett’s mission combines advocacy, education, and quality. Her journey from a cancer diagnosis to opening a business teaching North Texans about hemp embodies the resilience and vision the federal government may challenge but cannot entirely erase. “We can stop this language from going into effect,” she insists. “We have to lock arms and do this together.”
In Fort Worth and beyond, the countdown is on — 365 days until Nov. 13, 2026, when a new legal reality may arrive. Whether the city’s cannabis pioneers will adapt, survive, or spark a national dialogue remains to be seen. For now, at least, they keep pouring seltzers, educating patrons, and dreaming big, even as the law looms.
