By Kate
There's a question we get asked more than any other. Not about fabric. Not about sizing. It's this: what does the name mean? The answer is the whole story. So let's start there.
Prudie
Our mum's name was Prudence. She was Prue her whole life, but to those closest to her, Prudie. She raised us on a farm on South Australia’s Fleurieu Peninsula, just south of Adelaide. The kind of place where childhood happens outside, across rolling green hills and English gardens, and the pace of life is different to anywhere else I've ever lived.
Here's what I've come to understand about Mum: she did things properly. Not in a rigid way, but in the way that comes from caring about the outcome. She ran the farm, taking over from our grandfather. She cooked everything from scratch - I always remember baking scones and Christmas puddings with her as a child. She noticed the details that other people walked past. And she had a question she kept coming back to about everything: Is this good quality?
I didn't realise how much that question had shaped my sister Ali and I until we were building something of our own, and we kept asking it. About the fabric. About the lining. About whether we’d still love it in five years. It wasn't something we consciously learned. It was just there, woven into our psyche.
Primmie
Primrose was her horse. Prim. Primmie.
There's something about the way animals become part of a family, beyond just being pets, but as constant sources of steadiness in your life, particularly as a child. Characters in the story of a place. Primmie was part of the landscape of our childhood. The farm, the paddocks, the particular feeling on Sunday mornings when we were either out with the horses or off to Pony Club.
When Ali and I were naming our brand, we knew we wanted it to point somewhere real, not invented. Not vague. Something that connected back to where we came from and who taught us to care about the work.
Prudie and Primmie landed immediately.
How the brand started
Ali is on a farm in South Australia’s Mid-North with her family. I'm in London with mine. We've been in different time zones for years, so our relationship mostly lives in WhatsApp chats and early morning (for me) phone calls - me walking to work, her driving to school pickup, both of us talking about the same problem.
The problem was this: we couldn't find kids' clothing we actually wanted to keep. Things that looked beautiful in the shop but fell apart after three washes. Things that were well-made but so trend-led they dated before the season was out. We kept thinking: Does this hold a place in my heart that I’d want to hold on to for future children or for my grandchildren? A piece that tugs at my heart when I think about keeping it, storing it, or gifting it away when they grow out of it.
We talked about it the way sisters talk, half-seriously at first over a few wines, then more seriously. Then one of us said, well, why don't we just make it ourselves. And that became the plan.
The first collection came out of a kitchen benchtop in a 1-bed London apartment and a farm in South Australia. Every collection since has too.
What we're trying to do
We want to make pieces worth keeping. Not just in the sense that the fabric holds, though it does, and we're meticulous about that. In the sense that when your child grows out of it, you fold it carefully because you intend to pass it on.
Everything we make starts with Mum's question: " Is this good quality?” Not trend-led. Not made quickly to fill a gap. Not designed to be replaced next season. Just thoughtfully, properly good.
That's Prudie and Primmie. Named after two of the most important figures in our childhood. And built from everything mum taught us about doing things with care.
Browse the current collection at prudieandprimmie.com