One Year On......
Just over a year ago I had a bit of an epiphany. I was walking around a flea market in Majorca (no, don’t stop reading, that was unusual for me and I’m the opposite of jet-set I promise), moaning quietly about how my career in Renewable Energy sucked. The lovely and patient friend I was with (yes you Barney H) gently told me I had great taste and maybe I should follow that. In a rather typically British-no-I-can’t-take-a-compliment way, I think I snorted and said something to change the subject. But inside I began to think. Yes actually, he was right. I had good taste, a passion for interiors and some talent for people watching and writing silly short stories but how could I make that into a viable business?
When I got back home to real life, I looked around me and saw a raft of people making a passable living from painted furniture. I curled my lip at the over-use of the term “shabby-chic” (it still pains me slightly when I say it - I prefer vintage or distressed). Then I looked out the window and sighed. A lot.
I needed more than a passion for interiors and a talent for writing short stories. I needed something which would inspire people. Something which would inspire me. And most importantly when starting a business; something that people would pay for. I began with what made me want to part with my hard-earned cash. I buy quirky things. Items which people remember when they’ve seen them in my home. Things made by people I know and love. Things with soul. Is that a feminine artsy-fartsy and rose-tinted view of inanimate objects? Perhaps, but it makes me happy to think of the love which goes into a cup made by my friend Anna in her sunny studio, which is the opposite of how I feel when I think of the conditions in some factories which produce mass-market cups.
So with this platform, a seed began to sprout and I realised that my obsession with all things hidden (honestly, from knickers with a silky lining to a car with a hidden cup-holder) would be my golden ticket. I began to consider names. Choosing lofty words and moving them over my tongue like sweets, nothing felt right. And then I found it; ‘Clever Monty’. Perfect.
Clutching my concept and company name I began to test it on people I met at parties, knocking back another prosecco for courage I would say ‘I run my own business, its called Clever Monty’, and then tingle with pleasure (although that could also be blamed on the prosecco).
Once I began to talk about my business, the world shifted to accommodate it. A friend bought a derelict mill to develop into artist studios and said I could rent one. I bought myself a toolbox and paintbrushes. People began to give me their unwanted furniture. I made a facebook page, a website, a pintrest profile and a twitter avatar. I made a logo. Friends and family became my cheerleaders, helping me to promote through social media. Chanting my tag line 'Furniture with a story to tell.' It became my mantra.
I trundled over the months, falling in and out of love with Clever Monty, hitting brick walls and rinsing my inspiration dry as I went. At one point I sobbed to a friend “I’m just not very good” and within the hour this video appeared on my screen. A penny dropped from the ether by Ira Glass. Buoyed by these sage words I pressed on, slowly but surely getting better and better. And now when people ask me ‘where did you get that great lamp/shelf/chair/table?’ I can smile and say ‘Oh, I made it’.
So I find myself a year old. Sat in my beautiful studio, surrounded by my beautiful, quirky, funny furniture smiling at it all. And next month some of it will appear in Coast Magazine. The icing on my one year birthday cake. I can't wait to see what the next year has in store.
Happy birthday Clever Monty!
So I find myself a year old. Sat in my beautiful studio, surrounded by my beautiful, quirky, funny furniture smiling at it all. And next month some of it will appear in Coast Magazine. The icing on my one year birthday cake. I can't wait to see what the next year has in store.
