We wanted something we couldn’t find, so we decided we’ll make it ourselves. Then we figured other people probably wanted the same thing and couldn’t make it either. So we made it for them. Then we did it again, and again, and said ‘Hey…’
And here we are — still slightly surprised it worked, and absolutely not complaining.
We met working in theatre. One of us on stage, one of us off — a bit like now (except we’re both a little off), honestly. The weirdness cemented the friendship. We’ve been communicating entirely in memes ever since, across every social platform known to man, simultaneously, because words are inefficient and reaction gifs are not.
Between us, we’re contrary in most of the ways that matter — which turns out to be exactly why it works.
Hema runs the website, drives the operations and does some accounting stuff. She also does the DTF application, which means she’s the one who actually puts the thing on the thing. She also comes up with some of the ideas, usually at an inappropriate time. In the rest of her life, she’s a lighting designer, an online retailer, an events company, and apparently now a t-shirt person — because starting businesses is apparently a personality trait, and a side hustle is very on brand for 2025.
Kim makes the art — everything you see started somewhere in the boundless chaos of the internet and ended up, via her equally boundless and chaotic brain, at the printers. She’s also an actor; the kind who slips into a role like the Mad Hatter too seamlessly and makes you wonder if it’s really a character at all. When she’s not doing that, she writes children’s books with titles like Lizards Like Linguine and Apple Rhymes with Grapple — which tells you everything you need to know about how her brain works.
This was really all her fault.
We fill in each other’s gaps. We finish each other’s sentences. We have not yet finished each other’s snacks, but we’re working on it.
