Stacey's Story

 

If you’d told me ten years ago I’d be running a feminist fashion brand, I’d probably have rolled my eyes and said, “What even is that?”


And if I was being honest, I’d have felt scared.


I come from a family that lost a business due to a catastrophic medical event. I knew what this loss looked like up close, and I never imagined myself a founder.

But looking back, I can see I was always walking towards this.

I grew up in Ireland, in a family of garment workers. My dad was a tailor. My grandmother too. And my great-aunt worked under Sybil Connolly, the Irish designer who brought heritage and beauty to the world stage.
So, craft was always in me. Making things with care and purpose felt natural.

But so was politics.

As a kid, I rode the bus past protestors outside our local family planning clinic. I didn’t have the words then—but I felt it. That simmering sense of injustice. That quiet rage that never left.

At art school, I helped stage a sold-out production of The Vagina Monologues inside a former Magdalene laundry—turning a space of shame into one of feminist resistance. We raised thousands for local charities. But more than that, we reclaimed something. That was a turning point. I realised that activism and creativity don’t live in separate rooms—they share the same pulse.

Then came motherhood.

And everything sharpened. My feminism. My urgency. My rage.
The world felt darker—Trump, Brexit, the backlash against reproductive rights. But what gutted me most was seeing “feminist” slogan tees sold by companies built on exploitation. The hypocrisy was infuriating.

That was the spark.

Black & Beech was never just a business idea. It was a protest.
A way to practise my politics, not just post about them.
A way to make something beautiful—and use it to fight for better.

I started with a baby on my hip and a head full of fury.
What’s grown since is rooted in community, care, and refusal.

We’ve donated over £20,000 to the causes we believe in.
We’ve built a supply chain that honours every hand involved.
We’ve created pieces that don’t just say something—they do something.

But more than anything, we’ve built a Sororité.
A sisterhood that believes fashion can be a force for change—if we’re brave enough to make it so.

And along the way, I’ve used my voice to push things forward offline too:

  • As a panellist on sustainability for the Irish Consulate in Cardiff

  • As a keynote speaker for the BMJ on women in business

  • At the March of the Mummies in Cardiff, advocating for maternity rights

  • As an organiser for Repeal the 8th

  • As a speaker for Fashion Revolution Week and a panellist for Oxfam

These experiences keep shaping how I show up in this work. And they reinforce why I believe in building a female-led, female-owned business that breaks the mould—doing things differently, leading with integrity, and proving that fashion can be a force for radical change.

So no, it didn’t start with a business plan. It started with a feeling I couldn’t ignore.
The same one I had on that bus. At that protest. On that stage.

That deep-down knowing that women deserve better.
And that maybe, just maybe, I could help build it—one stitch at a time.

Thanks for being here.
Stacey x