What If It All Goes Wrong? Starting Over in France, Following a Dream and Choosing to Try Anyway
BEAUTIFUL WORLD INTERIORS · LIFE IN FRANCE · FOLLOWING YOUR DREAMS
On fear, finding your people, opening a little brocante in the French countryside and why I no longer believe that trying and failing is the same as failure.
Recently, quite a few people have said something to me that has made me stop and think.
They've told me how positive they think I am. How brave I must be. How wonderful it is that I've opened a little brocante and local produce shop in a rural French village, despite all the reasons it might not work.
And every single time, I've felt an enormous amount of gratitude because these people have been genuinely lovely. Their encouragement means more to me than they probably realise, particularly when I'm trying to build something from scratch in a country that wasn't originally my home but that I have made my home for over eight years.
But there's something I want to tell you…
I'm not nearly as brave as you might think. And I'm certainly not positive all the time.
In fact, I work really hard at being consciously positive and most days there's a little voice in my head telling me all the reasons this could go spectacularly wrong and when people say nice things sometimes I think “Yeah, I just did it, we can do anything, we’re unstoppable” and others, on days when there aren’t as many customers or it’s just pretty hard or I’m just plain tired, I feel like a fraud.
The difference is that I've made a very deliberate decision not to let that voice make all my decisions for me and often, I actively decide to wage a war on the little voice and say “on believe your brain, it lies to you” and carry on in spite of it!
That little voice that tells us we can't
You know the one, don't you?
The one that pipes up just as you're about to do something exciting or whenever you’re contemplating taking what feels like a risk.
What if nobody comes? What if you lose money? What if people think you're ridiculous? What if you've completely misjudged this? What if you fail?
I have that voice too…
It comes with me when I'm making plans for the shop, when I'm imagining all the things I'd love to create here and when I'm wondering whether any of my ideas will actually work.
Sometimes it's quite loud.
But increasingly, I've come to realise that I don't have to wait for it to disappear before I do something.
Being brave isn't necessarily about feeling fearless. Sometimes it's simply deciding that your dream deserves a chance, even when you're absolutely terrified.
And perhaps there's a little bit of defiance in that decision too.
How did I end up opening an antique shop in France?
If you'd told me years ago that at this stage of my life I'd be living in France, running an antique shop and a vintage event hire business, while still getting to work in television, I'm not sure I'd have believed you.
And yet, here I am.
Living a life I never could have planned in quite this way.
It certainly hasn't happened because I had some extraordinary master plan or because I've always known exactly what I wanted.
Quite the opposite.
My dreams have changed as I've changed. I've discovered new interests, followed unexpected opportunities and found myself wanting things I didn't even know existed ten years ago.
And I think that's something we don't talk about enough.
We put so much pressure on ourselves to work out what we want to do with our lives, as though we're supposed to make that decision once and then stick to it forever. As though we’re not multifacited human beings, like an accountant can’t also be an artist or engineer can’t also be a baker.
But what if we're allowed to change our minds?
What if the dream you had at 25 isn't the dream you want at 45, 55, 65 or 75?
What if the life you've built is perfectly lovely, but there's still something else calling you?
Dreams are allowed to evolve. And so are we.
The life I want my daughter to see
One of the things I think about regularly is the example I want to set for my kid.
She's an adult now, with her own life and her own decisions to make. But I don't think we ever really stop wanting to show our children what's possible.
I don't want her to think I've always got everything right.
I'd much rather she saw me being vulnerable, making mistakes, changing my mind, having ridiculous ideas, taking risks and occasionally getting things completely wrong.
I want her to know that she doesn't need everyone else to understand her vision before she's allowed to pursue it.
That she can build something, discover it isn't quite right, take what she's learned and try something completely different.
That a life doesn't have to follow a conventional path to be a wonderful one.
And that she never has to reach a point where she decides she's too old, too late or too established to begin again and also, that she never, ever, ever has to be or choose anything to please us, to be what we might wish for her and that you learn more from failing than by winning and we hope she goes out there and whatever it is, that she can fail spectactularly and we’ll be just as proud but that it doesn’t matter if we are proud of her (even though we always would be) because she’s be proud of herself.
My partner and I came up with a motto when we got together.
“Live by example” where we would just try and live like the people we wished we were and not the people we believe ourselves to be.
We don't always manage it. Not even close.
But we try.
And I think that's the important bit.
Why our little French brocante is about more than antiques
When I moved to France to be with my partner, we were incredibly fortunate to find ourselves a house in a lovely rural village and a few years later we sought out another seven hours north for our forever home in a rural community that welcomed us so warmly.
We've met people who are generous with their time, who look out for their neighbours and who show up for one another in ways that continually remind me how lucky we are to live here.
It's the sort of community that makes you want to contribute rather than simply enjoy it and the kind of people that make you want to be a better person.
My parents always taught me that wherever you go in life, you should try to leave things a little better than you found them.
It doesn't have to be some grand gesture.
Sometimes the smallest things can make a difference.
Of course, I love antiques and I’d always said I’d own some kind of shop some day. I love beautiful old furniture, objects with stories, interesting interiors and the idea of giving forgotten things another life that history can serve a purpose in the modern world.
I love discovering pieces that someone else might overlook and imagining how they'll fit into somebody's home.
But opening a brocante and local produce shop in our village was never just about selling lovely things.
It was also about trying to give something back.
The reality of rural life in France
There's an extraordinarily romantic image of living in the French countryside.
The beautiful stone houses. The markets. The rolling fields. The slower pace of life. The little villages where everyone knows everyone.
And so much of that really is wonderful.
But there's another side to rural life that isn't always captured in those dreamy photographs.
In villages without shops, cafés or restaurants, everyday life can become incredibly difficult when you can no longer drive or your mobility becomes limited.
Those of us who have cars and can easily travel to the nearest town don't always appreciate just how much freedom that gives us.
Imagine having to rely on somebody else every time you need a few groceries. Or to buy a gift. Or having nowhere nearby to pop in for a conversation or just a momentary activity.
A shop can be more than somewhere to buy things.
It can be somewhere to meet a neighbour, exchange a little village news, have a chat or simply feel connected to the place you call home.
And when villages lose those spaces, they risk losing a little of their heart too.
We wanted to see whether our little shop could help, even in a very small way.
Somewhere to buy local produce, discover a beautiful vintage piece and perhaps enjoy a conversation without having to travel miles.
Somewhere that feels like part of the village rather than simply a business located in it.
I have no illusions that one tiny shop can solve the challenges facing rural communities.
But if we can make a few people smile or simply create a moment in somebodies day, then surely that's worth trying.
Creating a beautiful life doesn't mean creating a perfect one
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