Where strategy meets electric creativity
I'm a Creative Industries student originally from Bermuda — and that identity shapes everything about how I approach my work. Growing up on the island gave me an instinct for cultural nuance, authenticity, and the power of a story rooted in a real place.
Throughout my degree I've had the opportunity to work with real brands and talented teams, and those experiences have helped me grow into the creative I'm becoming. They've also shown me clearly where I belong: brand strategy.
I love understanding what a business truly stands for, what its customers actually need, and finding the most compelling way to connect the two. I believe the best strategies don't just sell — they mean something to the people they reach.
Rather than a campaign, we reframed Fine Bone's entire audience — identifying older women navigating menopause as the brand's most commercially valuable and underserved market, then built a year-round Care Box concept to reach them.
A 6-month digital expansion strategy for Good Housekeeping — built around a weekly podcast to migrate print readers to the GH app, leveraging the full Hearst media ecosystem.
A self-initiated activewear brand rooted in Bermudian cultural heritage — built from my own lived experience on the island, with original research, a full visual identity, and a go-to-market strategy.
Every bold creative decision starts with evidence. I anchor strategy in real insight — market research, audience behaviour, and cultural trends — before a single visual idea takes shape.
Strategy without narrative falls flat. I shape findings into a compelling brand story — one that connects emotionally with target audiences and clearly differentiates from the competition.
The best strategies are ones people remember. I bring creative energy to execution — whether that's a campaign that stops thumbs mid-scroll or a deck that makes a room sit up straight.
Open to internships, collaborations and creative opportunities. If you need strategic thinking with bold execution — let's talk.
K2130377@kingston.ac.ukFine Bone is a ceramic sexual wellness brand whose hero product — the Prudence massager — was experiencing inconsistent sales throughout the year. The brief was straightforward on the surface: find a way to drive consistent revenue year round.
Most teams would have reached for a campaign. We didn't. Instead, we asked a more fundamental question: was Fine Bone speaking to the right audience in the first place?
Our answer was no. And that insight changed everything about our approach — rather than pushing harder to the existing audience, we identified a larger, more commercially viable market that the brand was almost completely ignoring.
Fine Bone had been positioning itself towards younger wellness consumers. But the product — ceramic, considered, designed to last — pointed to a different and more natural fit: older women navigating menopause. Almost no one in the sexual wellness space was speaking to them properly.
This is the kind of strategic move I find most exciting — not optimising what's already there, but identifying the audience a brand should be talking to. Repositioning doesn't always mean changing the product. Sometimes it just means changing who you're looking at.
Rather than a one-off campaign, we proposed something that would live on the Fine Bone website year round — a curated gift box designed specifically for women navigating menopause and later-life sexual wellness.
The box brings together the Prudence massager alongside carefully selected partner products from smaller sexual wellness brands — each chosen for their relevance to the menopause experience.
Permanent on the website rather than seasonal, the box creates a consistent revenue stream that doesn't depend on a calendar moment to perform.
Fine Bone taught me that the brief is the starting point, not the ceiling. As a brand strategist, I want to be the person in the room who asks the question before the brief does.
Good Housekeeping has been part of women's lives for over 100 years — trusted, iconic, and at risk of becoming irrelevant to the very people it was built for.
Our brief was to bring GH's loyal readers onto their app and grow a new digital audience — without stripping the brand of the radical, progressive identity that made it matter in the first place.
I joined as Account Manager and Finance Lead, and treated it less like a uni assignment and more like a real client relationship — because it was one.
We landed on a weekly podcast — and the insight behind it was simple: GH's readers aren't passive consumers. They're women who want to talk about real things. The mental load. Money. Relationships at 50. The stuff that actually happens in life but somehow doesn't make it onto the cover of most magazines.
The podcast gave GH a format to be genuinely conversational — and it gave the app a reason to exist. Listen anywhere for free, but to unlock exclusive episodes and community content, you need the app. The podcast doesn't just grow the audience. It converts it.
Instead of treating GH as a standalone campaign, we designed a strategy that used the whole Hearst network. Placing the podcast inside Cosmo's editorial pages wasn't just about awareness — it was about meeting a younger audience exactly where they already are.
GH subscribers discover Hearst's wider titles. Cosmo readers discover a podcast tailor-made for the next chapter of their lives. A flywheel built into the Hearst ecosystem itself.
As Finance Lead, building this funnel was where the storytelling met the spreadsheet. Starting with over 500,000 reachable through Hearst's combined reach, the model projects 150,000 listeners, 15,000 active engagers, and a target of 1,500 paid subscribers by month six.
The funnel isn't just a projection. It's the story of how attention becomes a business.
This project confirmed what I already suspected: I think in narratives. The most valuable moments were where data and creativity were in conversation — where a number in a spreadsheet became the beginning of a story worth telling.
The activewear market is one of the fastest-growing in the world — but for all its scale, it has a representation problem. Research I conducted during Lili's development found that 67% of women felt fitness advertising made them more self-conscious rather than more confident.
I created Lili to fill that gap — not with generic empowerment messaging, but with something far more specific: a brand with a real place, a real story, and a founder willing to put her name to it.
What makes Lili genuinely different is the specificity of its origin — and the fact that origin is personal. I am from Bermuda. I grew up on that island, with those colours, that light, that culture. Lili isn't inspired by Bermuda from a distance. It comes from the inside.
I created this brand because I wanted to showcase the beauty and importance of the place I'm from — and because I believe the most powerful creative work always comes from personal passion and lived experience.
The brand's name references the Easter lily, Bermuda's national flower — chosen for what it represents: resilience, natural elegance, and strength beneath softness.
In an industry saturated with manufactured aesthetics, a brand rooted in a real place, a real founder, and a real story becomes inherently, almost defensibly, differentiated. That is the strategic asset.
The visual identity was built around the same principles as the strategy: nothing arbitrary, everything rooted. The script wordmark references the handwritten, personal quality of the brand — a founder's name, not a corporate logo.
The colour palette draws directly from the island — pink sand, turquoise water, warm cream, soft coral — creating a visual world immediately distinctive in a category dominated by black, grey and neon.
The editorial photography direction centres on movement, light and landscape — women in Lili, at ease in the world, rather than performing fitness for a camera.
Each piece in Lili's debut collection was designed as a direct translation of Bermuda's landscape into wearable form. Every colourway, silhouette and texture has a specific cultural reference — nothing is arbitrary, everything is earned.
Inspired directly by Bermuda's most iconic natural landmark — the blush-pink shores of Horseshoe Bay. The colourway is not a trend choice. It is a postcard from the island, translated into activewear.
Drawn from the turquoise shallows that surround the island. The Seafoam Skort translates that colour into a silhouette that moves between studio and coastline without missing a beat.
Inspired by the Gombeys — Bermuda's most iconic cultural tradition. Masked, costumed performers whose vibrant dress and rhythmic movement have defined Bermudian celebration for centuries. Sky blue at the body, bursting into rainbow at the sleeves — movement you can wear.
Rather than competing on paid media spend, Lili's launch strategy centres on three earned channels — designed to build a community before a single product ships.
The sequencing here was deliberate. By the time someone could buy the product, they already understood why it existed. That's the difference between a customer and a community member.
A portion of every Lili sale goes back to Bermuda — a promise that transforms every purchase into a small act of cultural participation.
This is not cause-marketing bolted on after the fact. It is built into the brand's identity from day one. Specificity is credibility — and Lili names a specific island, a specific founder, and a specific cause.
Lili is the project that showed me what brand strategy looks like when it's entirely yours. The insight that drives everything here — that cultural specificity is a strategic asset, not just an aesthetic choice — is one I carry into every brief I work on now.