Some mornings, you wake up energised. You’re ready to go. Inspired. Aligned. The entire vision is clear. You sit down at your desk or in the studio and the ideas flow. You’re building a beautiful, purpose-led fashion business—and it all feels exciting, positive, exactly what you're meant to be doing.
Other mornings you wake up and you want to quit. And if you’ve ever had one of those days—where your chest feels tight, your brain feels foggy, and your heart feels heavy—I want you to know something.
You are not failing. Quitting isn't the answer. And you are absolutely not alone.
Because I’ve been there too. I was there not so long ago. In the first five years of building one of the largest online stores for ethical and sustainable fashion, I had so many of those days.
One particular morning, my quitting morning, started like any other Tuesday. Except it didn’t feel like any other Tuesday.
I’d barely slept the night before—lying in bed doing mental gymnastics over unpaid invoices, low engagement, to-do lists that never seemed to end, and the looming pressure of selling slow fashion—a pressure that felt more terrifying than exciting.
My eyes opened that morning and the first thought that landed wasn’t, 'What’s on my schedule today?'
It was, 'I can’t do this anymore.' And I meant it.
After months of trying to keep everything afloat—marketing, fulfilling orders, managing customer service, showing up online, chasing leads, and oh, trying to have some slither of a life—I was running on empty. Less than empty if there is such a thing.
I didn’t want to show up. I didn’t want to post. I didn’t want to send another email. I didn't want to push through another day. I was completely and utterly done. Empty, exhausted, drained.
But something in me—call it habit, or stubbornness, or some tiny flicker of hope—still got dressed and walked into my office at the co-working space, One Roof, in the heart of Melbourne. I didn’t know why I went. I could have easily curled up on the couch. I think part of me just couldn’t bear the thought of being alone in that heavy headspace all day.
So I sat down in my usual spot and started up my computer. I opened my usual ten tabs—which was nine too many on a good day let alone today.
But I mustn't have been putting on a convincing face, because within minutes, a woman named Cath came and sat in the empty chair next to me, and asked if I wanted to go grab a coffee at the cafe around the corner.
And we did. And even though that gesture was so deeply needed in that moment, it wasn't the gesture that did it for me. Because when we sat down, the next three words are the words that cracked me wide open.
'Are you ok?' And that was it.
That tiny moment of human kindness was my undoing. Tears started falling before I could stop them. Here I was, sitting in a busy Melbourne cafe during the peak hour coffee rush, across from someone I'd only shared the odd casual hello in the co-working kitchen, and I was a blubbering mess.
I couldn’t even find the words at first—I was so used to pretending I was fine. So used to saying, 'Busy, but good!' or 'It's going so well, I'm just tired!' or my personal favourite: 'The hustle is real, you know how it is.”
But that morning, I didn’t have the energy to fake it. So I told the truth.
I said I was tired. Exhausted. I said I didn’t know if I could keep doing this. I said I felt like everyone else had it figured out and I was the only one quietly falling apart behind the scenes. I said I try and try and try but it doesn't seem to be working. I said I care so much about what I do and about making a difference but it feels like no one does. I said I wanted to quit.
And that one person—Cath—who barely knew me, but saw me—just listened.
She didn’t rush to fix it. She didn’t tell me to be more positive. She didn’t say 'You’ve got this!' or throw a cliché quote my way.
She just said, 'You’re not alone. It's totally normal. What you're doing really matters.'
And just like that, everything softened, and that's the power of being heard.
That conversation didn’t magically solve my problems. My inbox was still full. My to-do list didn’t disappear. But something huge shifted. I didn’t feel like I was drowning alone anymore.
And sometimes, that’s all we need. Because as sustainable fashion founders, we carry so much. Not just the workload—but the emotional weight of trying to do things differently. Trying to build something that matters. Trying to balance values and visibility, impact and income, growth and groundedness. Trying to fix all the world's problems when every day, we're facing our own.
It’s a beautiful thing, but it’s also bloody exhausting. And the truth is, you can love what you do and still feel like giving up.
That doesn’t make you ungrateful or a quitter or weak or a failure. It makes you human.
We weren’t meant to carry all of this by ourselves. We weren’t meant to build entire businesses in a vacuum. It takes a village to do anything. We need people. We need support. We need safe spaces to be real.
And this is why the right community is more than just a 'nice to have'. Too often, we’re taught that success in business comes from the right systems, the perfect strategy, or the most optimised funnel.
But after working with hundreds of slow fashion founders and walking my own very real, very bumpy path—I can tell you, hand on heart, the thing that will get you through the hardest days is not the strategy. It’s support.
Not the kind that’s surface-level or performance-driven. But the kind that holds you when you can’t hold yourself.
The kind that reminds you your value isn’t tied to how much you produce. The kind that knows your voice matters even when your reach is down. The kind that understands your mission is important—even when you're tired and messy and unsure.
Because the right community makes your business sustainable—not just in values, but in practice.
It keeps your spirit alive so you can keep showing up.
Because when you’re in a room (virtual or physical) with people who get it, the weight becomes lighter. The fog starts to lift. You remember you’re not crazy or dramatic or failing. You’re just doing something hard. And you’re doing it with heart.
And that moment in the co-working space reminded me why spaces like that exist in the first place—not just for productivity, but for connection, for community.
Working alongside other creatives, even silently, brought me back to myself. Seeing someone else tapping away at their laptop. Hearing someone else take a work call. Watching someone else do the thing—even when they were also clearly tired or stretched—it made me feel part of something.
We need that reminder, we need to know that we’re not the only ones figuring it out as we go. We need to know that business is hard for everyone. And more than anything, we need to know that asking for help, taking a break, or falling apart doesn’t make you less of a founder.
It makes you real. It makes you human. And what humans need—more than anything—is people in our corner.
People who will look you in the eye and ask, 'Are you okay?'
People who will celebrate a $100 sale with the same enthusiasm as a $10K launch.
People who will remind you that rest is productive. That going slow is still growth. That your mission matters.
Because fast fashion wants us to believe faster is better but you and I both know that’s not true.
Slow is powerful and so are you.
If you're running an ethical, sustainable, circular, handmade or slow fashion business, label or brand, it's time to find your people. Open up, even if your voice shakes. Let yourself be held, and seen and supported. Because your work is important and so are you.
This is your sign. If you’ve been feeling like you’re carrying it all on your own—this is your sign that you don’t have to. If you’ve been quietly wondering if you’re cut out for this—this is your sign that you are. If you’ve been craving connection, clarity, and the kind of community that sees all of you—this is your sign to find it.
Because your vibe attracts your tribe. And you’ve just found yours.
My experience in that moment in the co-working space is one of the reasons why I created the Slow Fashion Lab—because slow fashion founders shouldn’t have to do business alone.
It’s more than strategy. It’s soul. It’s support. If you’re doing something good for the world with your fashion business, I want to help you do more of it—and I want you to feel held while you do it.
Don't quit. Join the Slow Fashion Lab here—and you'll be supported by beautiful humans building beautiful businesses who are here for you when you need it most.
Claire x
