The woman at the centre of the handbag revolution
Ten years ago, fashion – and its keenest acolytes – were in a fin de
siècle-ish rapture over handbags. Owners would purr the name of their bag affectionately as they would to, perhaps, a pet chihuahua. Sometimes even the chihuahuas had their own flashy carry-ons, such was the life of a low-ranking celebrity’s novelty pet back in the Noughties.
These handbag designs were punchy, covered in studs and blingy hardware. Branding and logos were overt, when in 2001 Louis Vuitton launched its collaboration with artist Stephen Sprouse, and with his graffiti script scorched over the classic monogram, the mood was set. If everyone else didn’t know who made it, why bother buying?
And, in spite of rapidly spiralling prices, there was no longevity to the purchase of your £1,000 handbag. In six months there would be another name to fuss over, another colour, another “it”. God, wasn’t it exhausting? I mean, just watching all those totes trotted out and about along Bond Street.
Equally, it was a chiropractorcalling effort lugging the things around. They were cumbersome, unwieldy lumps designed to be worn nestled in the crook of your elbow. Mulberry’s cavernous Roxanne was so heavy, I knew of a woman who carried hers around with only her house keys and Motorola flip phone in it. Frankly, they deserved to go out of style. Into this show-y sphere, and out of the big bang of the financial crash came Sophie Hulme, a young graduate from Kingston University with an alternate ethos, whose final collection propelled her into the commercial limelight.
Her first small offering, built very much as a “see what happens” idea, was picked up by 16 stockists. She had to quickly organise production and within a year or so, spurred by the quiet, clean lines of her square Albion tote, had a pretty serious business concern.
“I think there was real logo fatigue,” observes Hulme. “This was a much more personal approach, I wanted to design things that worked. Everything on the bag does something, there’s a real beauty through functionality.” Her bags have an elegant quality of minimal fuss, but there is wit and charm – the colours are particularly rich and covetable. I have a flamingo pink one which I’m complimented on whenever I wear it. On days when I’m not in the mood to chat to strangers, I don’t take it out.
We meet in her studio – a converted toy factory in Islington, which was originally her flat-share but has morphed into a gleaming work space for her 25-ish staff. She’s long since moved, with her architect husband and six-month-old son, to a house on the parallel street. “An important three-minute commute,” she laughs.
Hulme shows me the new designs, which have clever transformer tricks to them: the Swing – a neat bucket bag that has a shoulder strap as well as longer cross-body option; and the very chic Bolt, with fastenings inspired by an old military rucksack, so it has a utilitarian feel, and practice – the top handle and long shoulder strap are both removable (turning it into a clutch) and adjustable. As is the cavernous Exchange tote bag.
The leather is beautifully textured, and richly dyed – the colours are bled right through the skins, meaning they wear and get better with age.
Her pricing levels helped, too, when flashier labels were letting their costs skyrocket, her – relatively – affordable luxury offer was shrewd. “It’s very important to us that we’re democratically priced and you get great quality. We don’t put a huge mark-up because we’re spending thousands in advertising. You get a whole lot of bag for what you’re paying for. We use far better leathers than competitors, it’s made in Italy and the hardware is all gold plated,” explains Hulme.
By sticking to her design-guts – no logos, not flitting around between trends – and without any investment, Hulme has cautiously built up a business with strong foundations. At 34, she is an impressive, homegrown success story. She can even boast of the accolade that whilst at Downing Street in 2015, Samantha Cameron gifted the first lady of China, Peng Liyuan, one of her grey leather Albion totes as a symbol of British design.
This month she will open her first permanent store (helpfully designed by her husband) on Chiltern Street in Marylebone – prime location for quirky, single-minded brands and a buzzy crowd (the celebrityfeted Chiltern Firehouse bar/ restaurant imposes over one corner of the street).
It’s interesting that in a fairly tumultuous retail market, she has chosen to take on the rental pressure of a bricks and mortar store. But Hulme is a pragmatist. A tentative toe in the water, a pop-up in Burlington Arcade, carried on for longer than planned as it was doing so well. “Everything I’ve tried is a risk,” she says. “I hope it works, you just have to see what happens. We’ve looked at the numbers we would have to sell and feel confident.”
Equally, wholesaling to department stores with increasingly tough terms isn’t a particularly lucrative way to run a business. Brands are finding it makes better sense to focus on their own e-commerce (Hulme will relaunch her website later this year) in order to capitalise on the better margins – and foster contact with customers.
The benefit of a store is that it enables Hulme to test out new designs and exclusives; this winter, to mark her 10-year anniversary, she will issue a line of coats – luscious wool crombies and leather bikers, with her distinctive gold hardware to design sync with her bags.
“I really wanted somewhere that could show everything we can do, and people can get the full experience,” Hulme explains. “We’re not a brand that dictates a beautiful lifestyle that you aspire to. We want to work with women and celebrate them as they are, whilst offering them something to make their lives easier.”
In her decade in the bag business, the biggest shift has been to hands free – everything is a useful cross-body now. We’ve downsized to something that can slot in a mobile phone, keys and card/coin holder.
But it’s the advent of Instagram that has meant every label must now function as a sort of magazine, producing copious amounts of content to keep up.
“Having that engagement with customers is really nice, but there is a huge pressure to be doing it constantly. I love sitting in the workshop designing, all that doesn’t necessarily come naturally to me,” Hulme admits, somewhat refreshingly.
The brand is certainly not about her own personal ego, but it does all spring from her natural elegant taste and stylish eye. Her pared-back aesthetic feeds into the design, which is a very good thing.
Motherhood has also sharpened her focus and perspective. “I’m better at it, I have to be home by a certain time. It makes me more decisive because I love my job, but it’s not the most important thing in my life. I probably get a lot more done in a day than I did before,” she says, “I was really stressed about something the other day, then I went home and it was bath time – he was laughing at his duck. You forget. The next day you’re able to think about it very rationally. Life’s about the small things.”