You walk in and the room already knows. Capable, before you say a word. That's the shirt I'm building. In public. And you decide if it gets made.
43 women have told me what their shirt gets wrong. Six minutes. Your answer changes the pattern.
Flattering is what the industry says when it means unnoticed.
Nobody ever got promoted for being hard to see.
We don't go after the woman in beige. We go after the wardrobe that taught her to buy it.
VP level. Founder, twice. I know the rooms. I also know the safety pin and the cami in July, because that was me.
Two months ago I told you I was starting a shirt company. Then I disappeared. No drama. I just freaked out. What if I fail at this in front of everyone?
So I launched a consulting firm instead. Safe. Credible. Something I already knew I was good at.
I was hiding. Twenty years of circling collars in a sketchbook and the second it got real, I ran.
So here's what I'm doing about it. Sixty days. One shirt. Designed and sewn by me, badly at first, with all of it on camera. On 25 December I make the call, and you get a vote.


Fridays. One reveal at a time.
Concepts, not product. First button high enough to cover the bust. A collar that holds, up or down. Colour that stands up and is counted.
get gaps at the bust.
hate the ironing.
hide a cami underneath.
want to wear shirts more.