If In Doubt, Wash Your Hair PDF

ANYA HINDMARCH founded her company as a teenager in 1987. She has since grown it into an award-winning global brand known for its craftsmanship, creativity and sense of humour, including the hugely successful ‘I’m Not A Plastic Bag’ campaign. An advocate of British design and arts, Anya is NED of the British Fashion Council and Emeritus Trustee of the Royal Academy of Arts and the Design Museum. She was appointed Governor of the University of the Arts in 2010 and a Prime Minister’s Business Ambassador in 2011, holds both an MBE and a CBE and is a Trustee of the Royal Marsden Cancer Charity. She has honorary doctorates from the Universities of East Anglia and Essex but lives in London, where her proudest achievement is hosting a sleepover in the bed department of Peter Jones.

I dedicate this book to the women in my life:

To my family: my sister, my sisters-in-law, my mother-in-law (and hopefully one day my daughters-in-law), my god-daughters and my ‘other daughters’.

To my girlfriends, the ‘Women I Admire’, the brilliant women I work with every day, the ‘Walkie Talkies’ and the ‘Hormonal Voyagers’ (don’t ask).

Also, importantly, to the real mother of my oldest three children, her very supportive family, and to the incredible women who have helped me raise my children – especially the legend that is Mia.

But above all, I would like to dedicate this to my mother, Susan, and my daughter, Tia. If life is a relay race then my mother gave me a truly great handoff, and I am doing my very best to pass the baton as smoothly as I can to someone I know to be a very strong runner indeed. This is a bad analogy – running was never my strength – but I truly believe this baton pass to be the only really meaningful measure of my success.

Contents

Introduction

1‘Anya, You Have to Take the Emotion Out of This’

2If You Are Happy, Your Children Will Be Happy

3Put Your Own Oxygen Mask On First

4Fear and Excitement Are the Same Emotion

5Tight Ropes and Triangles of Pain

6Creativity Will Eat Strategy for Breakfast

7I Would Label My Children If I Could

8Be Yourself; Everyone Else Is Already Taken

9How Many More Christmases?

Further Reading

Acknowledgements

Introduction

I am often asked what my best piece of advice would be for a busy woman and I nearly always reply with: ‘If in doubt, wash your hair.’ It’s an answer that almost every woman seems to understand – at least, it usually elicits a lot of knowing smiles. On the one hand it is flippant, trivial. It literally sums up how much better I feel about myself – how much more confident, how much glintier-eyed, how much better able to cope and respond – if I have freshly washed hair. But on the other hand, I think my quip also speaks to the fact that we are all, and possibly women more than others, plagued by doubt. I suppose everyone who smiles knowingly at my silly piece of advice must also in some way relate to this doubt I’m referring to. I am fascinated by where it comes from, fascinated by how we can help ourselves to live our most doubt-free lives, and curious as to why it often takes until fifty to get there. If I were to summarise what the rest of this book is about, it is quite simply that.

I never imagined that I would write a book. I am by nature an intensely private person and there were so many reasons not to put my head above the parapet and commit to paper for all eternity the jumble of thoughts that passes between my ears.

But, having hit fifty, I suddenly felt that I had a lot to say. Not because I have always got it right, but mostly, actually, because I haven’t. And now I realise that that is OK too.

Turning fifty was a ‘moment’ for me: time to reflect and take stock. I had started a business aged eighteen, built it up until it had fifty-eight stores in ten countries, sold part of it, realised that that had been a mistake, and managed to buy it back again. I had come to a better-late-than-never understanding of the necessity (and surprisingly even pleasure?) of keeping my body and mind fit and healthy. I had, with lots of help, many missteps and much making it up as I went along, brought up five children in a modern blended family – not altogether unsuccessfully (I hope).

So I decided I was going to feel lucky, not resentful, to be getting older. And I realised how much I had learnt in my first half-century, and how much better it would have been if I had learnt it all earlier. I also realised that there are two issues on which the younger generation are shaming the rest of us right now. The first is the environment and sustainable living (more of that later) and the second is being honest about what goes on inside our heads.

It’s funny, but when people first started speaking out about the importance of ‘mental health’, I remember wondering how it would ever be OK to talk about self-doubt, or to be openly vulnerable. And yet, quite quickly, the perception and understanding of the various voices washing around our heads has been transformed. From being something draining, misunderstood, unspoken of, it’s now – for the majority of us – simply about remembering to look after our minds just as we do our bodies. Good days, bad days. A constant tension, some aches and pains, a continuing work in progress, a continuing inner dialogue.

But however good the younger generation are at talking honestly and sharing their feelings, they don’t have the years of experience. And experience counts. I have noticed, when I give talks to groups of women, which I do from time to time, that the bits that resonate most strongly always seem to be the honest advice – when I share what I have worried about and how I have dealt with it, or not.

Covid-19 swept through our lives while I was writing this book. It changed so much, while at the same time reinforcing all the things I already knew. It emphasised the fragility of our planet. It made us stop and consider our core values and what was really important to us. It made horribly clear the overriding importance of looking after our physical and mental health and our families. It brought home to me how much good fortune I have had in my life so far.

Having reached this halfway mark, I thought I would put my fears to one side and share – as a mother to a daughter, as a friend to a friend – what I have learnt, what I worry about, what I think (rightly or wrongly) and the advice I have gathered, borrowed and stolen along the way. This advice covers thoughts on being a woman, a mother, a stepmother, a wife, a woman in business and an entrepreneur, and on dealing with the challenges that come with trying to keep them all going at the same time. I give it openly and, I hope, kindly.

At fifty I still feel the same as I did at eighteen. My father once said to me when he was about seventy, ‘I don’t feel any different apart from when I play squash or look in the mirror.’ I think that is true. Except that also, I care less about the unimportant things. I have learnt to trust my judgement. And I have learnt to accept.

Someone said to me recently that until fifty you are learning, and from then on, it is your time to teach. It’s almost laughable to see myself as any sort of teacher. But here goes.

Anya

1

‘Anya, You Have to Take the Emotion Out of This’

Early in 2019, things at work were pretty tricky. I had sold part of my company several years earlier and stepped down as CEO, and the business had met a few bumps in the road. No blame and no finger-pointing, but it was a tough time.

It was during this time, however, that I had one of those wonderful ‘watershed’ moments for which I will be forever grateful. I was in a meeting and something was said by someone that was not fair, not right and went against what had been previously agreed. I called it out, in what I thought was a firm but measured way, and asked to discuss it privately after the meeting, which we did.

I will never forget the response. ‘Anya,’ he said, ‘you have to take the emotion out of this.’

Woman are accused of being emotional all too often. Most of us immediately feel silly and girly and as though we have high squeaky voices. But I don’t have a high squeaky voice, and I’m not silly or girly.

It is ironic that people will often fire that cheap shot precisely because of the emotions they are feeling, like embarrassment or guilt, when they have run out of any better ways to defend themselves.

This was a defining moment for me because what I have learnt and truly believe is that emotion is a female superpower and if women have an edge in business, it is in fact often because they do bring emotion to the workplace. A growing business is built on emotion. That moment made me vow never to take the emotion out of anything ever again.

Of course, I make an exception for anger – I always feel that showing anger is a sign of weakness. When I feel angry at work I try really hard not to react in the moment, and not to let aggression creep into the conversation. (People often overlook how aggressive it can sound just to use someone’s name: ‘The thing is, Anya . . .’). Better to leave it, sleep on it, and then to take the person aside when things have calmed down to explain my point of view in a more measured way: to ‘use my words’, as they say in the US. On the rare occasion – and I hope it is rare – that I’ve failed to disguise being angry or even made a slightly snide remark, I always feel I have let myself down afterwards, plus it sets off a pattern of behaviour that is contagious in the workplace. So I try to stop it in its tracks if I can.

Being kind and empathetic, being honest, even being vulnerable – keeping the emotion in – doesn’t mean being weak. You can be kind but also be strong. Taking tough news, internalising it, dealing with tough thoughts are daily events as an entrepreneur. And being kind doesn’t mean avoiding hard decisions. Of course, in a business – in any workplace – you sometimes have to make difficult decisions that are best for the organisation but not necessarily for the individual. As an entrepreneur, your first priority has to be the survival and success of the business, which of course is supporting the people you employ. This can be uncomfortable at times. But even with difficult decisions, you can make the right choice for the business but then find the kindest way to implement it and the kindest way to deliver the message.

Making someone redundant is probably the starkest example. It’s a really horrible thing to do to someone, and also, by the way, a really horrid thing to have to do. Sometimes, though, there is no alternative. I have had to make people redundant over the years and I’ve found it to be the single worst part of leading a business – but it’s possible to do even this very tough thing kindly and respectfully. You can take the trouble to explain why you are doing it and make it clear that you understand the implications for the person you are doing it to. You can commit to helping and supporting that person to find a new role as best you can and hopefully show them that it is not their fault. Sometimes you can even turn it into a positive moment of change for them: if it wasn’t working, perhaps there’s a reason that can be solved in a different way, in a different organisation. Above all, never forget to be kind, and never ever ‘take the emotion out of it’.

There is a lot of talk in business about brand. In my opinion it’s a really overused word. For me, the word ‘brand’ should be replaced with the word ‘behaviour’. Your brand is simply how you behave, within the business and beyond it. You can define your brand all you like, but actually it means nothing if it is at odds with behaviour – with what is done and how it is done, repeatedly, day after day. I often think of a quote attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson: ‘What you are shouts so loudly in my ears I cannot hear what you say.’ True, authentic behaviour – the patchwork of thousands of tiny experiences and moods and conversations and reactions – is much more important than clever taglines and catchy campaigns.

Today, having bought back my business, I think a lot about what matters to me and what attributes I want our company brand to be known for, both internally and as we face out to the world. And what matters to me most of all is kindness, treating people with respect and fairness, and being inclusive. Are they female qualities? Not necessarily. But let’s celebrate them in any case.

I feel fortunate that I have never felt I had to ‘behave like a man’ – whatever that means – to progress. I have been lucky because founding my own business has meant the culture starts with me, and also because I have worked in the fashion industry, which is perhaps more positive about qualities that are traditionally seen as feminine than, say, the world of finance. I can see that it is not so straightforward for some people, but why would I want to try to be like a man? I love being a woman. I love being feminine. Do I want to be a powerful woman in a meeting? Absolutely. Do I want to be able to have a crack at everything a man would? Absolutely. Do I want to be treated the same as a man would be treated? Sure. But I don’t want to have to be a man, or act in a way that someone says is like a man, to earn that. I don’t want to wear power suits, or artificially lower my voice, or disguise my empathy, or pretend I don’t worry like mad when my child is sick or sad. Let’s all just be ourselves, not try to turn ourselves into parodies of something else.

I would also like to dispel the myth that women are particularly catty or competitive or territorial with each other at work. My experience is absolutely the opposite. I have always enjoyed working with women (and with men). I have a lot of women on my senior team. And I find women to be kind, intuitive, collaborative and resilient grafters who are right by your side when you need them. There are many men who have these qualities too: I for one would be lost without the men in my life. I’m not saying it’s just women. I’m saying that women and men alike should harness and celebrate these qualities that are traditionally seen as – perhaps denigrated as – feminine.

I haven’t found being a woman in business a problem. In fact, when I’m at work, I really don’t think very much about being a woman – I think about being a person.

I understand that other women, in perhaps more chauvinistic workplaces, have struggled, and do struggle, but for me, in my business, there have only been one or two occasions – including the one I opened this chapter with – when I’ve really felt it has been a negative to be a woman. When I was in Florence, aged eighteen, looking for a manufacturer for my first handbag design, I ended up at a couple of very weird and inappropriate meetings in little piano bars. People in the finance world, perhaps, or in countries that still have particularly patriarchal cultures, will sometimes talk to my husband (and on one memorable occasion my son) more than me, but I just push on. After the first fifteen minutes, generally people realise I’m going to be making some of the decisions and start addressing themselves to both of us. And if they don’t, then that’s a flashing sign that the relationship is not going to work, so we move on.

What I have found to be challenging, though, is being a mother in the workplace. Balancing work and motherhood – or parenthood, I suppose, although it still does tend to be the mothers – is at times really tough, even if you are your own boss. There have definitely been moments when I’ve felt I am just not coping. There have been many testing weeks at work when I have had to say to the kids, ‘You know, it’s going to be a tough time, you’re not going to see much of me, and even when I’m here I’m not going to be 100 per cent mentally here, but you just have to bear with me, we’ll get through it, and we’ll all have pizza on Saturday.’ And there have been weeks when I’ve had to say to work, ‘Look, it’s the week of all the school plays, please cut me some slack and I’ll make it up to you.’ I remember getting an email from school once that nearly tipped me over the edge, along the lines of: ‘Sorry, please ignore the request to drop your child at St Michael’s at 7.50 with the lamb fancy-dress costume. Could you instead drop your child to the school boot room, but drop their fancy-dress tights at the church, but remember, drop the hat to Sophia’s mum who lives at