Beloved was born at Montebello Design Centre in Newlands, Cape Town. We started out in one shipping container, then grew to two, then three years later moved into our brick and mortar space in prime position. The connections we made there enabled our business to grow and succeed. More to the point, we were a part of a supportive community. As an Anglican priest’s daughter who grew up in a house that was the living centre of a faith community, being in community is a natural and important part of my life. In 2014 we expanded and opened our shop at the V&A Watershed.

The pandemic brought with it some surprises! Our NGO landlord was unable to offer more than a month and a half’s reduction in rent. Meanwhile, our big scary corporate landlord at the Watershed couldn’t have been kinder. From April 2020 onwards we didn’t pay any rent if we were closed, and once we reopened, we were offered incredibly generous reductions to help us get back on our feet. Experts were sought to offer us support and guidance, and they even offered loans to some local companies. I found community support in an unexpected place.

One of the closest friendships I had formed at the Watershed was my friend B. During the pandemic he housesat for me and cared for my dog, as I was stuck in the UK for sixteen months. A few months after my daughter was born, B was diagnosed with an aggressive stage 3 cancer. By the time I got home, we were figuring out what a dignified end of life would look like for him.

People tell you that life changes once you have a baby, and I was ready. What I didn’t bank on was becoming chairperson of the board of an NGO I had volunteered at for years, that cares for 80 people who have complex disabilities (because once you’ve cared for a baby 24/7 you realise just how important that work is). I also didn’t expect to have to return to university (that’s a story for another day!), nor did I know I would become a full-time foster parent to one of the most important young people in my life. And, of course, few of us expected a pandemic with all of the social and economic disruption it brought!

B stayed with us longer than expected, thanks to chemotherapy and dogged determination. He died at our home, cared for by amazing* carers. In our little house we made a community of old and new friends, doing our best in a terribly difficult circumstance.

(*and shockingly underpaid. Medical aid pays for full time care for two weeks, provided by women who know so much, have extraordinary skill, work 12 hour shifts, and are paid below minimum wage.)

Common wisdom is that big decisions shouldn’t be taken soon after a loss, but when did I ever listen to such advice?! Time had become the most precious resource I had. In the seven hours of weekday childcare I needed to study, work, volunteer and do all the background work of parenting. I struggled to focus on one thing at a time. Having a public workshop where anyone could pop in to say hello at any time started to feel like a liability, not an asset. At a more basic level, when we were in our late twenties and thirties starting the business, my colleagues and I liked being in the forest and didn’t mind the outdoor toilets and lack of heating and cooling. In our forties and fifties, however, these things gained significance!

We left Montebello and moved to our workshop in Salt River just a couple of months after B died, leaving behind 15 years of our company’s history in a beautiful space, in favour of privacy and modern amenities.

We’re lucky that Montebello Design Centre offered to keep our products in their shop on a consignment basis. For our longstanding customers who expect to find us there, it’s something (though we miss seeing them in person). Recently when I went to drop off new stock, I got to catch up with my friends there and of course bumped into other friends from UCT circles who were there to get lunch together. I left feeling sad. Time had become so precious that spending time in community had become a burden. It was a pace of life I couldn’t afford any more.

After that experience I decided to spend a day in our Watershed shop every month. It gives me the chance to chat to our customers in person and catch up with old friends in the creative community. And, of course, to get my teeth into some writing and merchandising!

If you’re spending Youth Day out and about at the Waterfront, please come to say hello.