An entirely true account — Part 2

The money bit

This is probably the part people talk about the least. Starting a curated business costs a lot of money. Even a small one that you're building largely by yourself. And when you're trying to create something that feels considered and well put together, it's massively difficult to reconcile the standard you want to achieve with the budget you actually have.

It's very hard to have a clear vision for something while simultaneously wondering how you're going to pay for it. I've found myself spending an extraordinary amount of time worrying about things I never expected to worry about.

So, am I a designer or a shopkeeper now?

This question has been going around in my head more than I expected. I've spent my life working as a designer and that's the only way I see myself. Starting The Quiet Edit has occasionally made me wonder whether I'm now doing something entirely different.

Am I a shopkeeper? A retailer? A designer who happens to sell things? Or neither?

I've built my whole identity around being Carla, The Designer — I've always been quite sure of that. And yet, the part of The Quiet Edit I enjoy most is exactly the same part of interior design I've always loved. The love of finding things, bringing them together, noticing colour, material, form and proportion, and knowing when something is right. The difference is that now I'm trying to make those finds available to people beyond sourcing them for clients.

The first sale. And then what?

I'll never forget that excitement of my first Shopify sale. PING, for a brief moment I thought, “this is it”,  I've broken the internet. Except I hadn't.

There have been days and weeks when absolutely nothing happened. And that is a horrible feeling when you've spent so much time, sweat and tears creating something.

You start questioning everything. Are the pieces wrong? Is the photography not good enough? Is the website confusing? Does anyone actually want these things? Is anyone even looking?

And then you change a word on Shopify again.

The bit I really don't enjoy

Possibly the greatest irony of all is that I've spent months obsessing over every detail of a website and a collection, only to realise that nobody knows about it. So now I have to do the thing I find particularly uncomfortable — promote myself.

"Follow me, like me, share and tag your friends, leave a comment, tell the world"... all that Instagram stuff that seems to come so naturally to everyone under 30 makes me squirm.

I can happily talk about interiors, lighting, materials and why I love a particular piece. But asking people to follow me, share something or worse — actually buy it—that's a completely different story.

And unfortunately, rather an important part of running a shop.

So where does that leave me?

I love what I set out to do for The Quiet Edit. I love the pieces I've found, the makers, the difference I know some of these pieces will make to a space, and the possibilities of where this could all go.

I just hadn't anticipated how much of the process would involve doing things I knew very little about.

It's been exhausting, frustrating and at times, quite lonely. I'm not sure I've got any great business wisdom to share at this point. I've certainly learned that having passion for something and knowing how to turn it into a viable business are two very different things.

Yet, one thing is clear— it reminds me of how determined I am, and how I love making something from nothing, even if the learning involves an enormous amount of swearing at a computer.

Now, if someone could just explain Meta Business Manager to me…