Almost seven years ago, I started ROWE, a feeling I just I couldn’t ignore. I had no experience, no roadmap, just a spark of an idea and a desire to create something meaningful. After over a year of experimenting with the Zomper, sampling, and second-guessing, I decided to release two colors and see what happened. The response was overwhelming. Instagram was organic and supportive back then, and for a while, it felt manageable. I thought, I can do this. I will do this. I believed in creating an ethically made Canadian clothing company that would succeed. I was naive, yes, but also hopeful.
ROWE became something far bigger than I ever imagined. It gave me purpose during the early years of motherhood when I often felt like I was drowning. It anchored me as I wrestled with what consumption meant and the kind of future I wanted to build for my kids. Through ROWE, I felt like I was making a difference, even in a small way.
The most incredible community has grown around this company. Women who lifted me during my darkest days in ways I can never fully explain. Every time I felt like quitting, I’d receive an email or DM from someone sharing how our clothing shifted their mindset. Those messages kept me going. I never felt worthy of them, but I was, and always will be, profoundly grateful.
Transparency was always at the heart of ROWE. We didn’t have big budgets or marketing campaigns. It was grassroots. It was you—our community—that made this company grow. Year after year, we doubled in size until this one, where we still grew, just not as quickly. And yet, despite the growth, or perhaps because of it, about a year ago, I hit a wall.
I began questioning everything. How could I justify making more clothing in a world already drowning in it?
Of course, there were so many external challenges too. Fabric flaws, manufacturing delays, financial strain, suffocating interest, fucking taxes, and the emotional weight of customer service, even when 99% of interactions were positive.
And then there’s Instagram, which over the last year and a half has felt like a vortex of the worst in humanity. It’s become a never-ending QVC, with influencers smiling while selling products that are slowly killing us, all while the world crumbles in real-time. It’s not an easy place for me or my heart, to put on my SELL SELL SELL persona (which to be honest, has always been a very uncomfortable mask for me to put on).
Balancing this company with motherhood also occasionally filled me with guilt, yet I was also so grateful for the flexibility it allowed me.
When my mother died, I think I operated on adrenaline for an entire year. Then the fabric flaw, the resulting loans, the never ending emails and issues and problems. I was handling them.
But somewhere along the way, my spark started to dim. In the past year and a half, I’ve felt untethered. The last few months, I’ve barely been able to step into the warehouse. Decisions that once felt exciting now feel paralyzing, every choice weighted with the fear it could be the one that breaks us.
The waffle mix-up—a mistake I might once have found frustrating but manageable—felt like the final straw. Or maybe it was the sign I needed: I can’t keep going like this. Something has to change.
I came across a Japanese proverb in December: “If you get on the wrong train, as soon as you realize it, get off at the next station. The longer you stay on, the more expensive the return trip will be.” That proverb hit me hard, but it also gave me clarity.
So, I’ve decided to get off this train.
This isn’t a closure announcement—at least not yet. I’ve given notice on our warehouse, and over the next two months, I hope to clear out all stock. After that, I’ll take a break. Maybe the break will be permanent. Maybe we’ll return in a new form, with preorders or something else that feels right. I don’t know yet. For now, I just need to step back, clear the slate, and see where the dust settles.
This community has given me more love, kindness, and support than I ever imagined. Thank you for being here, for staying, for believing in me and ROWE.
We’ll release our waffle, rib, and jersey collections on Saturday Jan 11, followed by a few final small drops before the pause to use up any fabrics. I’ll keep you updated as the weeks go by. For now, I’m letting go and trusting that the next train will take me where I’m meant to be.
With gratitude and love,
Barb
owner @ ROWE