Have you ever dreamt of launching your own brand — creating a piece that perfectly reflects your vision of the ideal fabric, cut, colour and style? Many of us have — especially after a trip to the mall where the price tags feel too high and the designs too repetitive, never quite suited to your body shape. And even if nothing is that dramatic, the idea of having your own brand is undeniably appealing.

So what stops us? Usually a long list of questions. Where do you even begin? What are people actually buying? How do you find a manufacturer? How much money do you need to invest?

The good news is: we now have the answers. In our conversation with Jamie Atherton, founder of the Dubai-based fashion label "I’ll Write You Letters", we covered everything — from the inspirations and pivotal moments that pushed him to start the brand, to the challenges he faced and the biggest mistakes he made along the way. Let’s dive in.

— When you are designing in Dubai, what cultural specifics do you take into account — colours, cuts, references?

— First and foremost, I just design what I like and what I would personally want to wear. Everything you see is something I have an affinity with or can relate to. If people like it, great; if they don’t, that is fine as well.

When it feels relevant, I do bring in culturally aware elements. For example, we created oversized T-shirts with Arabic text on the back saying Al-Watan — “home” or “homeland”. I have lived in the Middle East for over 25 years, so it was a way of reflecting that this region is my home.

We have also taken into account colourways that suit local skin tones. Research showed that off-whites, creams, beiges, sands, khakis and mauve — those softer, muted tones — tend to work well with the generic Arabic skin tone. So in that sense, we have definitely catered to a Middle Eastern and Arab expat audience.

— Your collection leans strongly towards menswear. Why is that?

— I actually see us as a unisex brand. If you look at our core line — logo T-shirts, hoodies, caps — the sales split is roughly 50/50 between men and women.

That said, most of the pieces we produce are menswear-focused because that is where my design expertise lies — the right fabrics, stitching, applications and fits for men. At some point I definitely want to launch a dedicated womenswear range, and even kidswear, but I feel both I and the brand need to mature a bit more before we get there.

— How did the idea of starting the brand first come to you?

— I have been sketching since I was a kid — always clothes, always menswear. I have always been into art and creativity, but I am not formally trained as a designer.

The actual trigger came one evening when I went to the mall to refresh my wardrobe. I spotted a beautiful white T-shirt with a small embroidery on the front — priced at 1,000 AED. I loved the piece, but the cost felt absurd. I understand pricing to an extent, but there was no depth or story behind it. I am more than happy to support a brand when I can understand and relate to its narrative — but paying purely for a logo simply didn’t make sense to me.

The next morning I had my coffee, picked up a sketchbook, and within half an hour I had three designs. My first thought was just to make T-shirts for myself, then maybe a few for my mates. Then the business side kicked in: I started researching manufacturers in Al Quoz, and thought I might as well build a website. Within an hour I had a URL, a Shopify subscription, was looking at names and a Trade Licence. That is how the brand began.

— What is the story behind the name “I’ll Write You Letters”?

— The name has two main roots.

First, I have always been inspired by Japanese streetwear and street culture — a lot of what begins in Japan eventually finds its way to the US, UK, Europe and beyond. 25 years ago, I used to buy T-shirts from Japanese stores over the phone and have them shipped here. So when I launched the brand, I wanted a hint of that influence in the name.

Second, I was raised to be respectful, genuine and human — to support people and always have their backs. I wanted a brand that carried that feeling. If you and your friend are both wearing it, there should be an unspoken “I have got you — we are good”.

During my research, I came across a Japanese idiom, "tagami kakuyo". It is something people say when they are parting ways. Literally, it means “I will miss you, I’ll write you letters,” but the sentiment goes much deeper: admiration, respect, support — “I will always have your back”.

So "I’ll Write You Letters" is essentially that idiom translated into English. It stands for admiration, respect and humanity towards others. My hope is that when someone wears the brand, they feel a quiet sense of connection and support. People often question the name at first, and when they hear the story, everything clicks — the story becomes what sells the garment.

— When you launch a brand, how long should you realistically wait before you know if it is working?

— The truth is, there isn’t a fixed moment when you suddenly “know”. The challenging period doesn’t really end, because if you are genuinely passionate, you are constantly trying to improve — the product, the storytelling, the business, everything.

For me, the real indicator isn’t the public at large but the community you are building. A million views on Instagram mean far less than a hundred loyal customers who buy every collection and truly understand what you are doing. And that kind of loyalty takes time.

If you are starting from zero, you simply have to begin small: create your designs, produce a low MOQ — maybe 25 pieces — sell them at full price to friends, then reinvest everything into 50 pieces, then more designs. Over time you build a website, learn digital marketing (Meta, TikTok, some SEO), and start putting small amounts into ads just to expand your reach.

My advice is to avoid taking money out for as long as you can. Keep reinvesting instead — into new designs, marketing, and eventually collaborations that align with your pillars of coffee, music, art, design, and the wider creative community.

Starting business is not about waiting three or six months to judge whether it is “working”. It is about staying committed, learning from mistakes and slowly building a community that genuinely cares.

— What is the minimum setup you need to start a clothing brand in Dubai?

— At the beginning, the essentials are quite straightforward: small production runs and a bit of capital — either your own or shared with a partner. You start there and build gradually, step by step.

Some of the biggest global brands began with just two people. And when there are two of you, it can genuinely make things easier — one might take care of the website while the other liaises with manufacturers; one focuses on marketing, the other on production. You share both the workload and the financial pressure.

I started completely on my own. That meant a smaller budget and far more emotional and financial strain, but it also meant I learned every part of the business — design, manufacturing, marketing, the website — inside out. Later, when you bring people on board, you know exactly what their roles involve because you have done each of them yourself.

And instead of treating the first few months as a pass-or-fail moment, see them as your learning period.

— How did you find your manufacturer, and what should a beginner look for?

— In the beginning, it was really important to me that the brand was genuinely made in Dubai — fabric, stitching, the whole lot. So I started looking locally, mainly around Al Quoz.

My first non-negotiable was an ethical workplace. We visited the warehouses, observed how staff were treated, and paid close attention to the way the owner spoke to the team. That mattered enormously to me, especially given some of the horror stories you hear from other parts of the world.

The next priority was fabric sustainability. Both manufacturers I was considering were able to meet that requirement, which was reassuring.

After that came the real test: expertise — particularly when it came to sampling and lead times. I gave each of them a design and asked for two samples within roughly four weeks. One set came back completely off; the other was almost perfect.

Sampling is the clearest way to judge a manufacturer — the stitching quality, the fabric they suggest, and how well they keep to timelines. No sample is ever 100% perfect, but they understood the vision straight away. I chose them on the spot, and we have been working together ever since.

Over time, they have learned my fonts, embroidery preferences, and preferred colourways, so when I bring a new collection, they are already halfway there — and the lead times just keep getting shorter.

— How long does it take from sketching a piece to releasing it?

— From the initial concept in my head to the product being available to customers, the absolute minimum is around four months — and realistically, closer to six.

The process looks like this:

To do it properly, especially for more intricate items like knitwear, I work on roughly a six-month cycle. For example, if we want to release a fall/winter drop at the end of September, the collection needs to enter production around April or May.

— What has been your biggest mistake so far, and what did you learn from it?

— My biggest mistake was designing for what I thought people wanted, rather than creating what I genuinely believed in.

The clearest example was an entire collection of skate-inspired T-shirts. That world isn’t really mine, and it didn’t feel right even while I was making it. But I convinced myself the streetwear crowd would love them. They didn’t — at least not then. We still have them in storage. Ironically, they sell now as “vintage” pieces because the brand is stronger, but at the time they completely missed the mark.

I corrected the course quickly and went back to designing the things I actually love — the pieces that reflect the brand’s core values of being real, human and rooted in genuine connection.

— What is the most popular item from your collection?

— Always the core collection. Those pieces consistently outsell everything else — logo T-shirts, logo hoodies, and of course, caps. We sell an incredible amount of headwear.

Caps are a very “safe” entry point into a brand: they are accessible, more price-sensitive, and a simple way for someone to try us out before investing in premium pieces.

— How would you describe your audience? Who buys your brand?

— Honestly, it is everyone and anyone. Our customers range from 18-year-old English guys to 35-year-old Lebanese women. I love that diversity — it shows people connect with the brand’s values: being real, being human, and supporting one another.

If I had to define the core customer, I would say predominantly male, aged 18–35, Western or Arab expat, fashion-conscious and creatively minded — someone who gravitates towards our pillars: art, design, coffee, music and fashion.

Because we are based in the UAE, many of our customers have lived here for some time. But interestingly, we sell just as much into Saudi Arabia and Qatar as we do in Dubai. With Dubai becoming a global fashion hub, the wider GCC often looks to it for inspiration — which naturally brings more attention to brands like ours.

— Have you ever hit a wall with production, retailers or logistics that forced you to rethink your processes?

— Many times. In fact, whatever you think can go wrong will go wrong.

When I started, I was completely green. I genuinely thought the process had only three stages — design, production, and selling. Absolutely not.

I have had incorrect samples, tech-pack mistakes, entire production runs made in the wrong fabric, pieces I had to scrap because I refused to sell sub-standard work. I have been overcharged. I have had three dirhams left in the bank before a drop. I have missed launch dates because lead times slipped. I have had months where products were supposed to arrive on the first and didn’t show up until weeks later.

And when things go wrong, it is usually my fault — not the manufacturer’s. That part matters. Every mistake teaches you something, and you adjust.

Then there is the launch process itself. Even once the products arrive, we still need two full weeks: flat lays, the lookbook shoot, the studio shoot with models, editing, five days of teasing on social, early access for members, and then launch day with the full lookbook. It is an art in its own right — and it took me nearly two years to perfect it.

But again, it all comes back to the same cycle: learn, fail, learn again. Every mistake has shaped the brand into what it is today.

— What are your plans for next year?

— We have major drops lined up, new collaborations, and our "Your Voice" series spotlighting local creatives — DJs, coffee specialists, models, barbers and more.

We are launching a monthly DJ spotlight from January, featuring sets on our YouTube channel alongside interviews. We are also in early conversations with organisations such as Al Jalila Foundation and Sharjah Art Foundation about supporting emerging young creatives — designers, sneakerheads, sculptors, baristas — anyone who dreams of a creative career but isn’t quite sure where to start. Though this is still a work in progress and not yet fully confirmed.