How My Mum and I Accidentally Built Two Businesses Together

Would you start a business with your Mum?

Iwas 14 when I first worked with Mum. Clare—Head of Some Things. A TV commercial stylist, brilliant at what she did. It was the best holiday job you could wish for. I was the runner, the go-getter, the kid picking up last-minute wardrobe pieces. We worked on ads that made history, with comedians who were just as funny off-camera as on.

Then, at 22, I had an idea. I needed a plastic bag with pockets to organise my Polaroids. "Mum, can you make this?" Thick plastic, an old sewing machine. One bag became two. Then ten. Then, suddenly, everyone wanted one. This was before Instagram. Before the Anya Hindmarch ‘Be a Bag’ moment. But the idea had legs.

We scraped together £2000 and found a UK factory willing to take a punt. Clippykit was born. I was still freelancing on TV sets, flogging bags out of my car boot. If I couldn’t make a delivery, Mum would step in. Before long, her house disappeared under a mountain of boxes. You could just spot the TV between the cardboard.

Then came the turning point. ITV’s Young Entrepreneur of the Year. A homemade website. Suddenly, thousands of pounds in orders came in every day. We drafted in mates to man the phones.

For about a year Mum continued with styling, but as Clippykit became more successful, another decision had to be made. Mother threw in her lot with me. We never stopped working, but we always stopped for ‘Neighbours’.

Trade shows followed. London, New York, Tokyo, Paris... The NEC. We had no idea what we were doing, but somehow, it worked. Keith Brymer Jones gave us a crash course in trade show survival. We took Clippykit global.

15 awards later and a collaboration with Barbie and Mattel that saw us flown to Miami to party with the CEO. (I stuck disembodied Barbie legs in my hair—he loved it).

Then, after 10 years, Clippykit came to an end. We licensed the business. It was like grief and relief rolled into one. But endings make room for beginnings. The Indytute was next. A business built on experiences, not things. It felt right. 

Mum was back in. This time, no boxes. Instead, 90 workshops in 90 days at Selfridges. Standing for 10 hours straight, selling experience gifts next to a glittery table. We didn’t ask permission when we took over the entire gift department. Or when we filled the bedding section with 40 ukulele players. Health & Safety weren’t impressed. We’d gone guerilla in Selfridges.

From Soho House to The Hospital Club to entrepreneur talks, The Indytute has been a different beast. Easier than Clippykit in some ways, but no less miraculous.

Along the way, we’ve met extraordinary people—some have been with us from day one. But businesses aren’t just built on the big moments. They’re built on the late nights, the product ideas that should never have made the cut (hand-knitted car seat covers, anyone?), the endless cups of tea. The unspoken looks between a mother and daughter when a trade show customer is about to haggle.

25 years in business together. We’ve learned when to push and when to let go. When to leap and when to pause.
Family business blurs the lines, but it also builds something deeper.

The Indytute is where we are now. Mum is still Head of Some Things. The boxes are gone, but the plotting never stops. Because ideas don’t wait. And neither do we.