I wanted to be an astrophysicist. I was fascinated by the Big Bang, by how the world was created, by the mechanics behind things that seemed impossibly vast. I was born in Suzhou and moved to France as a young child. My parents grew up in communist China, so our household was very much about function and pragmatism. There wasn’t a culture of ‘follow your dreams’; it was more ‘work hard, be useful, figure it out’.

That probably shaped me more than any childhood ambition. I was curious and quite restless. I wanted to understand how things worked, and that curiosity is the thread that connects everything I’ve done since.

Not at all. I studied finance at ESSEC Business School in Paris, moved to London, and spent several years in structured product sales and later at a family office. By conventional standards, it was a good career, but I remember a creeping feeling that I was spending my life making rich people richer rather than building something of my own.

The path to Vinterior wasn’t planned, it started with a personal obsession. I spent months searching for a yellow Poul Volther chair for my cat, Misifu. In the process I saw how fragmented the market was: dealers everywhere, but very little transparency, or ease when trying to buy vintage online. The idea for Vinterior started there. I taught myself to code and built the first version of the platform.

Frustration, mainly. I had just moved from a flat in Shoreditch to a Victorian house in Islington and I wanted to furnish it with pieces that had real character. There was no shortage of beautiful furniture, but finding it was exhausting. You could spend entire weekends trawling dealers, markets and obscure websites, with very little consistency or quality control.

When I finally found the chair I had been hunting for, I thought, this should not be this hard. The problem was not supply, it was discovery and trust. That felt like a category problem hiding in plain sight.

We launched in January 2016 with about 200 products from a handful of London dealers. The first sale was a pair of Belgian mid-century armchairs. Ten years later, we’re the UK’s largest marketplace for premium pre-loved furniture.

The cultural adjustment. Coming from a French and Chinese background, I was used to a level of directness that does not always translate neatly in London. I had to learn diplomacy without losing the clarity I value.

In the early days of Vinterior, the biggest challenge was that very few people believed the market was large enough. When I started fundraising, I heard the same thing repeatedly: “That’s very niche.” Vintage furniture was seen as something for collectors or antique enthusiasts, not mainstream consumers – but I’d seen the demand firsthand. There were plenty of people who wanted characterful, well-made furniture but had no reliable way to find it. That gap between what investors saw and what I knew was real kept me going. It also taught me that the most interesting opportunities often look niche to people who aren’t paying close attention.

My favourite mornings start early at Third Space in Islington. I’ll do a HIIT session, followed by 15 minutes in the sauna and five in the cold plunge. That’s my reset before the day begins.

After that, every day looks different. I spend time on strategy, product decisions, conversations with the team, and the operational rhythm of running a marketplace. I read constantly whether it be articles, or podcasts, and I try to protect time for thinking rather than filling every hour with meetings. We’re a small team doing ambitious things, so I stay close to the details. I enjoy that range, moving between big-picture decisions and the practical mechanics of making the experience better for customers.

The best part is learning. I love reading, listening to podcasts, exploring mental models, and trying to systemise things that aren’t easy to explain. I also enjoy changing how people think about vintage. For a long time, pre-loved furniture was framed either as bargain hunting or as something for purists. What excites me is making it feel desirable, creative and personal; and knowing that we’re encouraging people to choose vintage instead of new, which invariably ends up with more furniture in landfill.

The hardest part is the relentlessness. Building a company is a long game, and there are periods where the weight of it is constant, decisions that affect people’s livelihoods, and the tension between what you want to do and what you can afford to do. I also struggle with patience when I know something needs to change and the organisation isn’t moving fast enough, which I am working on.

One moment I still remember vividly was being on a skiing holiday, glancing at my phone, and seeing that we had received an order from the Royal Household. I remember thinking how surreal it was that an idea which began with a personal search for one chair had reached some of the most discerning buyers in the country.

The toughest period was navigating the post-Covid consumer slowdown while continuing to move the business forward. What I’ve learned is that the hardest moments often force the best decisions. When capital is tight, you become incredibly focused. When the market is sceptical, you learn to build internal conviction from evidence rather than external validation.

I’m not naturally good at it. My brain doesn’t really have an off switch. I’ll check emails on holiday and find myself thinking about a product decision while hiking in the Tramuntana Mountains. But I’ve become better at recognising what recharges me. Exercise is the most reliable reset. When I’m in the middle of a workout, work disappears from my mind. I am more creative and get unstuck more easily when I am on a walk outdoors.

Movement, first and foremost. I rotate between HIIT, strength training, yoga, and Pilates depending on the day. I read a lot as well. Recently I’ve enjoyed Orbital, Ask Not and Perfection. I’m also a huge fan of theatre and immersive shows, particularly Punchdrunk. I love the ritual afterwards of comparing notes with friends about what they saw, what I missed, and how differently we all experienced the same performance.

Food is important to me. On Saturday mornings I’ll pick up fresh clams to make spaghetti al la vongole for lunch, which is my daughter’s favourite. I’m also always searching for vintage, which is both work and not work. Right now I’m hunting for the perfect vintage record cabinet for my husband’s vinyl collection. I’m in no rush; the pleasure is in the search.

I’m drawn to women who are formidable through the depth of their commitment to excellence. Maria Callas is one. She didn’t simply sing; she redefined what opera could be. The discipline, the emotional intensity, the refusal to be anything less than transcendent, she sacrificed enormously for her art and knew exactly what she was trading for it.

Amal Clooney is another. She operates at the highest levels of international law with a remarkable combination of rigour, elegance and moral seriousness. She demonstrates that brilliance and presence don’t have to be mutually exclusive.

And then Wu Zetian: the only woman to rule China as emperor in her own right. She governed for 15 years and wielded power for decades in a system designed to exclude her. She rose from concubine to emperor, expanded the Tang dynasty, and dismantled the aristocratic appointment system in favour of civil service examinations based on merit.

What connects all three is an uncompromising commitment to their own standard of excellence. That’s the quality I value most in leaders: the discipline to hold yourself to a higher bar than anyone else would set for you.

Luxury is still male-dominated where it matters most: capital, ownership and senior leadership. That has not changed nearly enough. What has changed is influence. Women are playing a far greater role in shaping how luxury is defined, and consumers are moving with them. Luxury today feels less about logos and performance, and more about taste, quality, provenance and intention.

In pre-loved furniture, that shift has been particularly striking. What was once dismissed as niche is now increasingly understood as a smarter, more discerning way to buy. Women have been central to that shift, even if the industry itself still has a long way to go.

Ideally, we would stop framing ‘women in luxury’ as a separate category and simply see more women leading in luxury. I’d also like to see more diverse founders receiving funding. Venture capital has improved somewhat, but the numbers are still stark when you look at how investment is distributed by gender and ethnicity. It’s not enough to celebrate the women who succeed, we need to address why the pipeline remains so narrow.

Absolutely. I think we are moving away from a culture of presenteeism and toward a culture of trust. At Vinterior, we are fully remote, we have many young parents, and we work in a very flexible, trust-first way. A lot of our work is asynchronous, and I am much more interested in outcomes than optics. I do not care what time someone logs on or off, I care about the quality of their thinking, their contribution, and whether they deliver.

In my experience, people are often more committed when they feel trusted. When talented people have the flexibility to do meaningful work and also be present for themselves and their family, they tend to bring more energy, ownership and loyalty to what they do. That, to me, is a much healthier and more effective way to build a company.

Funding remains the biggest one. Female founders still receive a fraction of the capital male founders do, and they are often asked different questions; men about potential, women about risk. But the challenge is not only financial, it is also cultural. I have sat in investor meetings where questions were directed to male colleagues rather than to me, even though I was the founder and CEO. I have noticed that women are often described in emotional terms for behaviour that would be seen as decisive or exacting in men.

That is why this is ultimately a question of power as much as opportunity. Progress has been made, but women are still too often required to prove authority in situations where men are simply granted it.

Trust the restlessness. For a long time I thought something was wrong with me because I couldn’t settle into a conventional path. In hindsight, that restlessness was my driving force. I’d also tell her not to wait until she has all the answers before making a move. The biggest decisions I’ve made all felt like leaps at the time. And practically: learn to say no earlier. Protecting your time is protecting your ambition.

Back your own taste. Creative industries constantly push people to benchmark themselves against trends or existing work. The most interesting ideas come from people who trust their own perspective and are willing to be specific about what they care about.

Also learn the commercial side. Creativity without commercial understanding is fragile. Know your numbers, know your customer, and understand what makes a business sustainable.

Find people who challenge you, not just people who agree with you. The relationships that have shaped me most are with people who told me the truth when it was uncomfortable. Those are the voices worth seeking out.