NZ Life & Leisure

SISTER PACT

A PAIR OF WAIRARAPA SISTERS ARE TWO DECADES IN TO MAKING COMFY UNDERWEAR DESIGNED FOR THE WEARER, NOT THE VIEWER

- WORDS SARAH CAT HER ALL PHOTOGRAPH­S MIKE HEY DON

Thunderpan­ts are go in Martinboro­ugh thanks to the efforts of the enterprisi­ng Bidwill sisters

JOSIE AND SOPHIE BIDWILL are wearing identical black tights covered with tiny, colourful triangles. They often unintentio­nally wear the same clothes. Sometimes – frequently in fact – they discover they separately went to the same café for lunch, even ordered the same food. When they look at each other, they often laugh.

The sisters live a block apart on the same Martinboro­ugh road, just a couple of streets away from their ethical clothing and underwear business, Thunderpan­ts. Their 90-year-old mother Joan lives over the back fence from Josie and her renovated, stucco house.

During summer weekends and in the holidays, the pair often retreat to the family bach, a 1960s beach house hidden in the dunes at Riversdale Beach, where they spent whole summers as children. Their lives are so interwoven that when they aren’t working, they share meals or spend time with family and their many joint friends. They take turns at popping a meal over to their mother each evening. Both are keen cooks – Josie (57) cooked for a career for 15 years and Sophie (49) followed her into restaurant kitchens some years later.

They each have a daughter, teenagers they jokingly nickname Ebony and Ivory. Billie (14) is Sophie’s daughter, pale-skinned with white blonde hair; Maddy (13) is the daughter of Josie and her partner, Tahir Ali, of Fijian Indian-Polynesian decent. The cousins spend so much time together they could be mistaken for sisters. “They share a love of horror films,’’ says Sophie. Josie and Sophie and their three older siblings, sisters Kate and Becky and brother Sandy, grew up on a farm in Kahutara in the Wairarapa, which Sandy now runs. Josie was eight when Sophie was born – the family story is that their parents had a naughty weekend in Rotorua and Sophie was accidental­ly conceived.

Josie set up Thunderpan­ts in 1995 and Sophie joined her two years later. The brand’s legacy dates to their childhood when the sisters and their siblings nicknamed their large bloomers “thunderpan­ts’’.

Josie has pedalled a sewing machine since she was a teen at Woodford House in Havelock North, and has a passion for screen printing. Sophie is an artist and ceramicist, who when not running the company’s production line is moulding clay in her ceramics studio.

The sisters are advocates of slow fashion – a movement similar to slow food embracing quality, fairness and sustainabi­lity – and from the sunny deck at Thunderpan­ts headquarte­rs in Martinboro­ugh they observe that their business is as big it needs to be. They’ve always designed clothing for “authentic” people – a value that has become more important over time. “We are often told to send our garments to social influencer­s. We’re not interested… unless they’re hairy and authentic,’’ jokes Sophie.

They never follow fashion fads or launch seasonal ranges and the business must fit into their lives. All five full-time equivalent staff are paid a living wage and the sisters say they love their work as much as they do. Babies and dogs are welcome in the Thunderpan­ts headquarte­rs. “We have always said people over profits so staff can pretty much do what suits them as long as the work gets done. If they need time off, they take it. If they have a crisis, they don’t need to worry about work,’’ says Josie.

Built to last is not just an ethos. One story is of a young boy who wears a pair of Thunderpan­ts boy’s undies handed down by his older brother, who inherited them from an older cousin.

Inside their workshop and pop-up store, kids’ leggings decorated in a banana print dangle on hangers near a black Thunderpan­ts bikini made from recycled nylon fishing nets. Each is symbolic of what makes the Bidwill sisters tick – they like to have fun, they spend a lot of time laughing, and they care deeply about their community and the environmen­t.

Undies are the biggest seller of the 50,000 Thunderpan­ts items sewn annually by a team of Carterton women. While they have introduced other garments over the years, and even a bedlinen range, Josie and Sophie are best known for their undies. “Thundies’’ are comfortabl­e and long-lasting, designed for the wearer – not the viewer.

Says Josie: “We are bigger people ourselves, so we understand that once you get to a certain size, the grading gets all wrong. Most of our customers appreciate the level of comfort and modesty.’’

“They’re not sexy. They fit your body where they’re meant to,’’ adds Sophie.

While Thunderpan­ts are a snug fit for their customers, the business of becoming a clothing and underwear manufactur­er wasn’t initially a natural fit for the Bidwill sisters.

They both started their adult lives as cooks, reflecting now that they weren’t given adequate career advice at school so fell into food. Their mother was an accomplish­ed cook who passed on her skills to her daughters. Their childhood revolved around food, and the collecting of it. They spent weekends foraging on the farm for mushrooms, pulling in crayfish pots at Riversdale Beach and collecting paua off the rocks.

Says Josie: “Our house was always somewhere people wanted to come for food. Young single farmers randomly turning up at 5–5.30pm as they knew they would be asked for dinner. Teenagers were always happy to end up at our place after parties as Mum could feed large numbers with amazing food and plenty of it.’’

After Josie left school, she shifted to Christchur­ch to study horticultu­re but ended up working as a cook. At 19 and eager to travel, she hand-stitched 500 felt mice she then sold to fund a oneway ticket to London. She caught the craft bug from her maternal grandmothe­r, Granny Chennells (Bee), who taught her how to make the mice, which were sold at a craft store in Greytown.

After working in a London restaurant at the height of nouvelle cuisine, Josie attended Paris cooking school La Varenne École de Cuisine. “It was full of Americans, taught in French and translated. There was a guest chef every week – mostly Michelin-starred. My favourite was a woman who did everything with a paring knife.’’

Back in Wellington in the late-1980s, Josie cooked with Peter Gordon when he was firing up the Sugar Club. Gordon moved into her Karaka Bay flat. “Wellington was really small. I loved it. The place was full of characters.’’

While Josie went to Australia – cooking in the West Australia mines and then in Port Douglas – Sophie left school and took over Josie’s former Wellington life. She moved into Josie’s Karaka Bay flat, got a job in the Cuba Street fashion store where Josie once worked, and even took over Josie’s job pasting posters on lampposts to make extra money.

But eventually Sophie had enough of the heat of the kitchen and followed her real passion, enrolling for a visual arts degree at Nelson Polytechni­c. At 24, she got pregnant so Josie returned from Australia to help her little sister plan an open adoption and to be there for the birth. The sisters drove to Pukekohe to meet the baby’s future parents.

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 ??  ?? THIS PAGE: Sophie and Josie Bidwill at Riversdale Beach with their two SPCA dogs, Pebbles (left) and Boo; Thunderpan­ts are go... Sophie with a rack of designs inside the company’s workshop. OPPOSITE: The sisters in front of Thundies HQ in Martinboro­ugh. The mural was painted by Greta Menzies, who does many of the sisters’ textile designs.
THIS PAGE: Sophie and Josie Bidwill at Riversdale Beach with their two SPCA dogs, Pebbles (left) and Boo; Thunderpan­ts are go... Sophie with a rack of designs inside the company’s workshop. OPPOSITE: The sisters in front of Thundies HQ in Martinboro­ugh. The mural was painted by Greta Menzies, who does many of the sisters’ textile designs.
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 ??  ?? THESE PAGES: As children, the sisters spent weekends — sometimes even whole summers — at Riversdale, their mother literally shutting up their farm homestead and heading out there. They remember regularly piling into the family’s Mini Moke so their dad could drive them along the beach to collect shellfish off the rocks.
THESE PAGES: As children, the sisters spent weekends — sometimes even whole summers — at Riversdale, their mother literally shutting up their farm homestead and heading out there. They remember regularly piling into the family’s Mini Moke so their dad could drive them along the beach to collect shellfish off the rocks.
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