I keep coming back to the same thought whenever I walk out my front door and point myself towards a hill, a path, a river, or just a stretch of weather that feels vaguely Scottish enough to count as “the outdoors”. We don’t have an access problem. We have a connection problem.
The countryside is right there. Literally on our doorstep. And yet most of the time we experience it through Youtube/Instagram on a cracked phone screen, doom-scrolling between steps, measuring the moment rather than living it. Which is why I keep thinking about what could happen if the right people, with the right instincts, stopped working in parallel and started working together.
In my head, it looks like this.
Alex Feechan of Findra. Aidan Thomson of Interval Running. Jill and Steve Henry of Meander Apparel. Three brands. Four humans. One shared outlook on getting people outside without turning it into a lifestyle sermon.
I’ll put my cards on the table, I’ve not spoken to any of the people I mention – this is just a mind dump.
I know Alex. I’ve worked with Alex. I understand how Findra came into being, rooted in place, built slowly, grown with intent. Aidan is a neighbour. The kind of neighbour you nod at, then realise a few weeks later has built a running brand with actual purpose behind it. Jill and Steve I don’t really know at all, although I backed TENS in the early days, which now sits under the Meander umbrella, so I feel like I’ve at least waved at them across a digital campfire.
This isn’t about mates backing mates. It’s about pattern recognition.
Each of these brands is doing something quietly brilliant on their own. Findra designs clothing that understands women actually move in the outdoors, not just pose in it. Interval Running strips running back to something human, communal and enjoyable, not a punishment disguised as self-improvement. Meander champions craft, story and provenance, treating clothing as something you live in, not churn through.
Individually, they’re strong. Together, they could be dangerous. In a good way.
I’m imagining a shared space. A joint store. Not a concept store with exposed brick and a barista who judges your jacket, but a place that feels like the outdoors came indoors for a brew. Somewhere local people design for local hills, trails, swims and weather. Somewhere you can buy a running top, a wool layer and a map without feeling like you’ve accidentally joined a cult.
The magic isn’t in the products alone. It’s in the overlap.
Findra knows community because it’s built one. Interval knows how to get people moving together without ego. Meander knows how to tell stories that make people care about where things come from. Stack those strengths and you don’t just sell jackets and shorts. You build belonging.
And here’s the bit I care about most. This wouldn’t be overly serious. It wouldn’t be pretentious. Nobody would be lectured about carbon footprints while being sold a £400 gilet. It would simply be bloody good stuff from bloody good people, made or sourced with care, sold with insight and worn with intent.
The kind of place that hosts a slow run on a Tuesday evening where nobody cares about pace, followed by a pint. Or a repair night where someone teaches you how to stitch up your favourite jacket rather than replace it. Or a talk about the best local routes that don’t appear on Instagram, for very good reasons.
This is where community stops being a buzzword and starts being a verb.
Too many outdoor brands talk about connection while chasing scale that actively destroys it. Growth for growth’s sake. Collaboration as a campaign rather than a commitment. What I’m talking about is smaller, smarter and stickier. A model where the value compounds because people feel seen, welcomed and involved.
Local doesn’t mean parochial. It means grounded. When people wear something designed by someone who runs the same paths, swims the same lochs or hikes the same ridges, it changes the relationship. You stop consuming and start participating.
There’s also a quiet rebellion in this idea. Against the notion that the outdoors has to be extreme to be valid. Against the idea that performance trumps pleasure. Against the belief that everything worth doing needs an app, a leaderboard and a dopamine loop.
Sometimes the most radical thing you can do is step outside, lift your head, and walk somewhere with people who don’t care how fast you are.
I don’t know if Alex, Aidan, Jill and Steve have ever seriously talked about this. They might read this and think I’ve had too much coffee. But the reason I wanted to write it down is because I think this is the kind of collaboration that actually matters. Not a logo swap. Not a limited drop. A shared vision for getting more people outside, locally, joyfully, imperfectly.
If collaboration and community really are the key, then this feels like a door worth trying.
And if nothing else, I’d happily shop there. Then head straight out the door, phone in pocket, countryside waiting… who’s with me?