Why buying from a small business is both sensible and satisfying.
Six real differences between a studio and a corporation — and why they matter.
If you live on the same planet as I do, you are being constantly bombarded with marketing from huge corporations telling you that their goods are Cheaper! Better! Faster! Cooler! , and, implicitly or explicitly, that you are a fool to look elsewhere or question their benevolent authority on all matters.
Even I get bamboozled by these messages from time to time. Bamboozling is, after all, their top priority, and they’ve got the budgets to do it. To restore my sanity I often pause and calmly review the facts. Every time I do this, I am reminded that supporting small, independent businesses is one of the most practical, hopeful ways to help create the kind of world we’d actually like to live in. This simple truth is easily drowned out by the marketing budgets of the mega-corps. If I had a marketing budget to match theirs, here are the six things I’d tell you about what really happens when you buy from an independent studio like mine.
Buying from a small business is your participation vote for a more human way of working and living.
We really like making things
When you buy something from a small business or independent craftsperson, you’re saying yes to something human. Us small business and craftspeople want to create a thing, not just collect a cheque in exchange for hours. We get out of bed in the morning to see if we can bring this idea in our imagination to life. By shopping small, you allow someone, somewhere, to keep working in a way that makes sense to their hands and heart (if not to their relatives, friends or bank manager) — and in so doing, you tether yourself to that same sense of truly human endeavour. You cast a vote for a type of life that is measured in metrics other than just the soulless economic.
2. Small businesses are an ecosystem – when you buy from one you’re really supporting many
It’s buy one get a dozen free!
When you buy from a small business, you’re not just influencing one life, you’re participating in a whole ecosystem. Every sale ripples outward. I buy my ingredients, packaging, office materials and everything else from a very carefully curated list of almost thirty small suppliers. Many of these are one-person operations just like mine. Your purchase is what keeps that whole network humming quietly along: a chain of care, skill, and sanity that might just be the nicest kind of economy there is.
Your order pings into my inbox, I say ‘Yay!’, I realise I need more wicks so I email Marissa, who says ‘Yay!’ who realises she needs more labels so she emails her label guy and he says ‘Yay!’ – and on it goes. Marissa also writes little notes in blue sharpie on my orders, and sent me a box of chocolates last year at Christmas, the thoughtfulness of which made me smile for the entire day. That’s the domino chain that happens when you order one single candle from a small, handmade business.
3. Your money stays local — and taxable
You’re funding a livelihood, not an empire.
Small businesses pay their taxes close to home and tend to spend their earnings there too. By contrast, multinational companies often route profits through low-tax jurisdictions. Your euros circulate here, in my small Wicklow community, rather than disappearing into a spreadsheet in Luxembourg.
My most favourite day of the week is Friday, when I do all my errands. I adore buzzing around from one small shop to the next, spending what I still think of as my ‘pocket money’, on beautiful, simple, wholesome things that I know come from good places and good people. The margin from a candle bought in Tesco that would go to shareholders or middlemen, instead gets spent by me on organic yogurt, regeneratively farmed meat, and locally roasted coffee among many other delights like compost for my garden and premium food for my senior cat!
4. Landfill waste — the single biggest environmental issue in retail.
Independent studios don’t tend to waste money, materials, energy or our own time.
We've all seen the footage: dumpsters full of overstock outside department stores and supermarkets. To maintain their ‘image’, big brands would often rather destroy their overstock than sell it at a discount. And we have all at one time or another been duped into buying an expensive item that we can only sadly describe later as ‘all packaging’.
In my small studio I keep it very simple. The idea of making products in a frenzy of trend chasing, only to discard them months later, or putting more effort into misleading packaging than my actual work, is exhausting beyond description. I only make as much good and thoughtful work as I can manage with my own two hands and I dispatch this in minimal yet elegant packaging.
5. “Cheaper” isn’t always cheaper
You’re paying the real price of something.
This one is tricky because the marketing departments of large corporations have done a terrific job at making us believe that they sell products cheaply out of the goodness of their hearts – selfless heroes that they are.
‘Oh this yacht?’ they say, ’No, your money didn’t pay for this!’ as they kick a few designer handbags out of sight ‘Look over there! Half price!’
The reality is that somebody pays. Large companies can sell things cheaply because they externalise costs — through underpaid labour, supplier bullying, offshoring, or loss-leader pricing that drives smaller competitors out of the market. When you buy from a small producer, the price reflects what it actually costs to make, package, and sell an item responsibly, not what it costs after someone else has been exploited or short changed.
6. The quality is often superior
Good craftsmanship is timeless
In recent years I find it disheartening to have to shop for clothes, home goods, or almost anything at all. The sharp decline in the quality of mass produced goods has made it a miserable experience. Everything’s got plastic in it, or has been reduced in size or increased in price or both. Planned obsolescence seems to kick in after only 6 months, making the previous two to five year lifespan look like a generational commitment. Everything is thinner, flimsier and faker. This applies to both everyday and so called high-end items. Buttons are flying off of designer blouses, pricy cosmetics are found to have the same batch code as supermarket brands, and candles and soaps that sell for 5x the price of mine are often made with cheap paraffin wax and unpleasant synthetic scents.
Since starting Bread & Weather in 2020 I have not changed the formulas, recipes, ingredients or the size of my candles and soaps. It is not in my interest to maximise profit in the short term by sacrificing quality or jeopardising my relationships with customers and stockists. I make what I make — carefully, consistently — and I trust in the ingredients and intentions that go into every batch. I sleep well at night knowing that the orders I sent out that day were made properly, befitting the trust put in me by whomever chose to conjure these little scented items into their homes.
Thank you for your orders 🤍
