Building your ultimate vision, to then see it fail.

This story was originally published for The human in the machine in March 2017, and has been updated April 2019.

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In late 2012, I started to form a vision for a business that would be my way to give back to the design industry, with the hope that it would become my legacy.

I planned to challenge the typical retail model, on our (deteriorating) high streets — bringing truly independent designers back to the public, in physical stores.

The Vision

Whosit & Whatsit — A physical retail store celebrating the who behind the what.

Years 1–3 would establish a large flagship store in Newcastle upon Tyne. Consecutive years would then open smaller stores in other major cities.

Based on a subscription model, versus the typical wholesale model — Whosit & Whatsit (W&W) would put designers profits before their own. Concentrating instead on the number of quality designers subscribed, to cover costs and become sustainable quicker (than a typical retailer).

From £30 per month, a designer would sell a selection of products in-store and receive 100% of their sales in return. W&W would work on a — fully insured — sale or return basis, meaning it does not outlay upfront costs for, or own designers products.

Attaining high numbers of subscribers (/designers) to our flagship store, would then allow us to pre-book places for smaller stores in future — allowing us to plan for, and cover further stores’ costs, from day one of their opening.

W&W would aim to bring together a multitude of fantastic products, that the public may struggle to find from independents own websites. The business would tell the story of the designers and brands, promoting each, and encouraging customers to care for independents (versus defaulting to supermarkets, or major chains that typically demand 50–75% of designers profits).

Customers don’t pay inflated prices, Designers receive full profits, W&W covers its costs.

The Storefront

Finding the right storefront for the business was of course, key. I spent 8 months viewing properties and comparing rents, (business) rates, footfall, renovation estimates, and potential fit for the W&W model.

The model required a generous square footage, and of course I wanted it to be based as central to the city, and/or areas of footfall as possible. This was the first hurdle. City centre — shopping district — storefronts, that had a large floorspace, came with rents and business rates that were simply unworkable for our particular model.

Eventually, I decided upon a four storey building in the heart of Newcastle’s conservation area — next to its infamous Tyne bridge. I negotiated a 6 month free rental period, followed by stepped rent over 4 years — based on a 10 year lease.

I was taking a gamble. The area had grown tired over the years… what once was the centre of all Newcastle night life, was now full of empty, forgotten buildings. But I saw opportunity.

An opportunity to secure over 400 square meters of floorspace, for less than half the cost(s) of say, 5–8 square meter space in the typical shopping district. A listed conservation area that was protected — so was bound to cycle back to becoming a popular area again. Tourist numbers, that for a small city, were just incredible. One of three of the cities main bridges — for foot, bus, and car traffic — linking it, and neighbouring city Gateshead right opposite it’s doors. Rush hour traffic crawling past its window displays on a daily basis, and the (decades old) Sunday Quayside market pulling crowds every weekend.

The Renovation

The building was Grade II listed, and had stood empty next to it’s neighbour English Heritage (now Historic England) for 2–3 years. It had last been a kebab shop on the ground floor, restaurant on the first, kitchen on the third, and offices on the fourth. There was also 3 levels of incredible hidden garden at the rear, that were built into the natural valley of the city.

The potential was endless. The reality was of course quite daunting.

I must admit however, that my motivation levels at this point — with my decision made on the ideal building — were higher than I’ve ever experienced. I have always been overly conscientious in all the ‘work’ I do in my life, from paper rounds and weekend jobs, to working for agencies and my own clients. But this was the most exciting thing I had EVER put my mind to. I was building a new business, a physical one, that had the chance to positively effect the lives of so many people. I was driven, I was focussed, I was ready to put everything I had into this.

After an initial survey, and an Agreement for Lease being signed, it took the landlord 13 months to complete works needed to correct the damp and security issues. 13 months. It was an incredibly painful period, but I simply worked as hard as I could on signing up designers (based on the faith that I would get us there).

I got the keys in my hand in July 2014. I had a minimal budget (made up by myself, and our directors who were all friends and family). I had done my best to estimate costs, get as much advice from others as possible, but of course (like we see every damn time on renovation shows when we scream at the tele)… the actual costs we hit, were SO much more than forecast.

We had the expected costs; Building survey (£900), Solicitor fees (£2200+), Listed building consents (£1500+), Skip rental (£1500+) etc. etc.

Then, we had those that weren’t so expected; External/Facade painting of upper floors 2–4 (£2400+), Constant running of a generator (£500+) — due to — 5 months of fighting to get a new meter, and electricity downgraded and reconnected (£650+) etc. etc.

Our initial investment quickly started to look unrealistic.

So we simply did all we could to work with what we had. I worked 15–18 hour days, every day. If I wasn’t onsite, I was on the phone, or working on new sign-ups, the website, or marketing. We ran (I readily admit) a panic-ridden Indiegogo campaign, which after fees and costs, only really made us around £2000 — which for the time it consumed, was not worth it, and my time would have been better spent on trying for further private investment. (Funding options, at this late stage, had the same time/worth issues).

Our real saving grace, was that my friends and family were simply incredible. So many volunteered their time (or offered a consistent ‘mates rate’) for us to get this building in shape, and get the doors open no matter what.

We wanted to take the building back to its 17th Century prowess — strip out the continuous layers of unsympathetic modernisation. Mirroring our values, our vision, and our ingrained respect for design.

Peeling back, and disposing of ceilings, floors, fake walls and kitchen remnants was truly painstaking. The layers of muck and dust, were endless — and we all felt a pure desperation for just one clean surface in the place. Anything that represented what we knew the shop would become.

From July to November, we worked without electricity, fighting the council (they warned me of a jail sentence at one point — a personal high point), hitting issue after issue, in the never-ending dust, in the freezing cold, late into the nights, with many a hen or stag do knocking on the windows to ‘encourage us’… it was truly exhausting. And I felt like I had replaced all my years of design knowledge, with knowledge of electric, gas, building supplies, waste management, insurance, legal agreements, council politics, listed building regulations, networking and internet issues, the art of negotiation and ‘doing anything to keep the peace’…

I was inching every bit closer to that ultimate vision though. And that’s what kept me more determined than ever.

The Opening

With our rent kicking in, and Christmas season already upon us — December 1st 2014 was our opening date, whether we were quite ready or not!

We had electricity (just), we were running the till from a dongle(!), our coffee pop-up was still being built, and our product point of sale (POS) was somewhat lacking — but after a 2 hour cat nap between 2–4am, myself and my incredible friend and Illustrator Jaqueline Fryers, nervously opened the doors to the public at 8am.

Our first day (hell, our first few months), was of course littered with teething issues, learning curves, and daily improvements throughout the entire business.

We had a relatively low, but decent stream of intrigued customers that day. We were shattered, and although there was certainly a slight feeling of accomplishment — we were simply frustrated and driven to improve things immediately. An instant impatience lurked, to be the best we could as quickly as possible. Day one was ‘good’, but it needed to be impeccable.

The Running

We started with opening hours of 8am-8pm, 7 days per week (followed by my continuous work at home out of hours), to be able to gauge the busier and worthwhile opening times — and catch all the natural footfall we could. We quietly considered customer reactions, and welcomed feedback. We told stories of our designers (so many of which we had now met or at least spoken with), and consistently pushed ourselves to improve on service, processes, and offering on a daily basis.

I had a true partner in crime, with Jaqueline (Jaq) — she is as stubbornly driven as I am, yet incredibly organised and systematic.

The two of us pushed the barriers of all sides of the store… the only downside was that Jaq didn’t actually live in Newcastle! She lived a good 4 hours train ride, and of course had an illustration career of her own. I only had her expertise when we could schedule a long trip — and when I could guarantee her a measly ‘mates rates’ salary, and free accommodation!

Aside from Jaq’s amazing help, I covered all hours myself, and had help 1–2 times per week, from two motivated interns from the local college.

December, and month one of being open had been very decent for sales (even with hindsight), and of course in January/February sales dropped, but visitor numbers were decent. Word of mouth, and repeat custom started to become noticeable — and locals and tourists alike were truly happy to have a different kind of store to stumble across.

Footfall in the early days was of course a challenge — but the good news that I forget to mention is that my initial gamble paid off. In the time it took us from securing the Agreement for Lease, and us opening (18 months), 80% of the buildings in the immediate area had been leased, renovated, and opened before W&W. It felt rather miraculous, and those businesses quite obviously had a LOT more financial ability and/or investment than we did — but that was certainly no bad thing.

The area had made a come back, and although there weren’t many retail outlets in the area, it brought attention to ourselves as a ‘destination store’.

The Reality

Over time, it become quite obvious that our opening hours needed to lessen, for me to be able to be actually sane enough to be of service to both customers and designers.

After many months of testing we closed on a Tuesday (the quietest day by far), and opened at 10am due to the early morning sales being minimal.

Our monthly running costs were dependent on myself (only). Having already put all money I had into the initial stages and investment of the business, I needed to keep up my design work for clients concurrently throughout every stage of W&W.

My design business would directly keep W&W afloat and running, until we hit the breaking even point.

It was extremely tough (and always worrisome) — but I managed this relatively comfortably until early 2016. At this point, I secured a large long term (1–3 year) project with an existing client who I’d worked with for 2.5 years. I then knew I needed to make a big change to secure the success of W&W (and avoid a heart attack or similar).

I needed to employ a FT manager. I needed to hand over the reigns to someone who cared as much as I (and Jaq) did, so I could continue to sensibly, and sanely, finance the business.

We were inundated with applications, and found the perfect fit. Her experience, and appetite for a true ownership of the business, day-to-day running, and long-term goals, was impeccable.

This was it I thought. We’ve only bloody well gone and made this work. We’re going to DO THIS.

I realise this may seem a strange reaction at this point — after 13 months open — but this was the point of sustainability which is the real, and actual success of any new business.

The Closure

We now had a FT manager, and one of our amazing interns was also now FT. I was able to step away from the day to day, knowing that W&W was being ran so much better than I could ever manage while juggling.

Then my (long term) client went silent. After weeks of calls and emails, he finally admitted that he’d given the (1–3 year) work to another agency. One local to them in the USA. “Nothing to do with our work whatsoever, in fact we still want you to work with us on other things, just thought it best to use an agency locally”.

This was the last conversation I ever held with him* — my client who made up 80% of my design businesses’ income at this point. It was devastating.

Update: *Jump to late 2018, and he approached me for work again, as if nothing had happened.

After the initial anger had worn thin, ‘fight or flight’ kicked in. I had to pull this around, I couldn’t have put in ALL this effort to lose the business I’d poured everything into.

I pulled in other bits of work, I took a business loan and upped our overdraft, I looked for larger projects — and managed to win a considerably sized project with a new client, that would cover costs for a good 3–4 months.

We’d be ok. We’re getting so close to that breaking even point — the staff are pulling in new subscribers every week.

The new clients contract had many red flags (they were not open to using our own), and was not designed to work with a design agency, nor cover us in anyway. After much back and forth, a good few tweaks on our part, and the client assuring us, I reluctantly signed in the hope that this was ‘the saving grace’ I had been looking for. With the vague comfort that I’d never before been burned by a contract, nor fired by a client (other than this recent incident) in my 6 years of working for myself.

After a small initial deposit being paid, and 3 weeks of solid work by myself and an experienced illustrator… I received an email entitled ‘Termination of Design Services Agreement’. An abrupt email followed with a ‘Please could you acknowledge receipt.’ as sign off.

After spending time together in person, and excitedly on many calls prior and during to our work — there was no discussion, no phone call or explanation offered (until I forced one afterward), and no further renumeration.

Nothingness. Anger. Tears. Regret. Frustration. Nothingness.

I had no further options of loan or overdraft at this point, and W&W was of course needing continually financed. Our investors (friends and family) couldn’t offer anymore than their previous (now) two lots of investment.

I had nothing else major enough in the pipeline via my design business — I had put so much time into securing this project that I then had very little to fall back on.

So I organised a meeting with the landlord. I asked if there was anyway that he could offer us a relief in rent for 3–6 months (to add to the end of the rental term). I explained our situation, and at this point we were forecast to be into profit (/breaking even) by December 2016. If he was able to help us get there — there would be very little doubt that we wouldn’t see out our 10 year lease and beyond.

This was my everything. I wasn’t going to let it not succeed. He was positive, and reassured me “Let me speak to my bank, but I’m sure we can sort something. Don’t panic”. The landlord was always supportive of our vision, and seeing what we’d made of his buildings’ two lower floors — was behind me.

I checked in every day, then every week, desperate for a positive response. A confirmation all would be ok.

The response came 2.5 months later. It was a simple “No”. And “You now owe us back rent”.

Hysterical realisation. Numbness.

The Aftermath

I now had nowhere to turn. I booked a meeting with a Liquidator.

After an hour long meeting (my mum by my side), I knew that I had to put ‘my everything’ into Voluntary Liquidation.

At this point I should have crumbled. I wanted to crumble. But I couldn’t. I had to stay strong, and driven for the staff I needed to make redundant; for our customers; for our 150 or so Designers we had subscribed.

I had to reassure them. Offer THEM support, explanations, anything I could do to make this awful situation easier for them.

In short, I had two weeks to get over 3000 unique products back to designers, to offer controlled and continuous communication — to try and close the business, in the best, and most ‘fair’ way I possibly could. I had BUILT this business for the very people I was letting down.

To say it was hard, is such an understatement. I don’t think I have the words to describe packing away everything I’d worked so hard to build, spent every penny on, worked every hour into… to then have to explain to people that ‘this was it’.

I somehow got through those two weeks. I somehow managed to fake some ‘dignity’, whilst feeling like something had died inside.

As an aside, during this period I;

• Attended a hospital appointment for a — rather invasive — investigation, due to worrisome tests 3 months prior. (The results are since ok).
• Received an eviction letter for my apartment/home (as my landlord hadn’t been paying his mortgage, so was being repossessed).
• Answered a call to a local reporter — while in a particularly difficult meeting with the landlord and new estate agent — to be forced to talk, or she’d simply write ‘something’.
• Received an email from a potential private investor saying “I’m so sorry I’m super late in responding… I hope I’m not too late… I’m very interested.”

After the hellish two weeks;

I had just weeks to find a new home, and struggled to secure another apartment to rent (due to being self employed with a business in liquidation). I finally managed — with a lot of help from my now husband — to find a place, and move home.

I then lost my beloved Grandad, who I miss so very much.

The now

I’m now 6 months on from the closure, and all my adrenaline has quite simply ceased to be.

I’m low, I’m emotional, and I want to hide away from the world — but I’m very aware of it. Having suffered depression before, I know the signs, and I certainly do not want to be in that place again.

Feeling motivated, and being productive can feel like facing a mountain climb (usually littered with monsters) when you’re in that place.

I’ve already climbed a mountain, stuck a flag in the soil (for the 21 months W&W was running), and fallen down the other side.

It’s now time for me to walk the plains, work on building myself and my confidence back — and put my energy into other positive projects.

Update: It’s now 2.5 years later, and I’m still struggling with all of these same emotions. During this time I got involved in, and took on roles within several different organisations — and haven’t quite found my ‘fit’ yet.

I crave the feeling of that ‘big vision’, the thing that will make a real difference, and keep me motivated.

I’m still trying to find my happy. Hopefully 2019 is the year I can make it happen.

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W&W may have failed as a business, but the energy it took, the community and relationships it built were not failures. The positivity, and drive to TRY and make a change, far outweighs any negatives.

I refuse to regret trying.

The art of standing back up is simple.
We need to take a while to breathe first.

Pictured in April 2019, the shop still remains exactly as we left it. (Albeit down-trodden, dusty, and a window kicked in).

It’s painful to see. So I still avoid it whenever I can.

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Our friends Hardwood Ventures (logo pictured here) are now also now filing for liquidation. We’re devastated for them. They did so much for the Basketball community in the region, and dedicated themselves to serving fans and the public. They will always have my utmost respect.

See more about W&W, and see many a picture here.

Written in love of my family, and in memory of my Grandad.