A customer wrote to me recently — someone who had purchased from me before, and whose message was politely and considerately worded. They asked whether I might extend a discount on their order. It was a gracious request, and it deserves a considered reply — not merely to them, but to anyone who has wondered the same thing and thought better of asking.
The answer is no. It will always be no. But I think that answer deserves more than a sentence, and so I am writing this.
What that customer was already receiving
There is a certain irony worth noting, and I mention it not to single anyone out but because it illustrates something genuinely useful. The order in question was for a set of canes. What some customers may not realise is that my multi-cane sets carry inherently better value per cane than individual commissions. This is not a promotional arrangement, and it is not a concession. It reflects something real about the nature of producing complementary pieces as a unified whole rather than as a succession of isolated orders — there are efficiencies in that way of working, and it has always seemed to me only right to share them with the customer. The better pricing is already there, built quietly into the structure of every set I offer. It does not announce itself, but it is there.
What my prices actually represent
I source my rattan via air freight from two trusted suppliers in Indonesia, with whom I have worked for many years. I do not source opportunistically, and I do not substitute materials when costs rise. The rattan that arrives at my studio has been selected at origin and selected again by me. A meaningful proportion of what I receive does not meet my standards and is not used. That wastage is part of the cost of quality, and it is a cost I absorb rather than eliminate by lowering my standards.
Beyond materials, my prices reflect something harder to quantify but no less real: accumulated craft knowledge. I have been making canes for over thirteen years. The techniques I employ today are not the techniques of my earlier years. Experience has a value, and it compounds. When you purchase one of my canes, you are not purchasing a length of processed rattan. You are purchasing the judgement I have developed over more than a decade — about what a well-made cane should be, how it should feel, how it should last, and what separates one piece of rattan from another. That is not something I am willing to mark down.
My customers come from many places — the United Kingdom, the United States, and further afield. My pricing policy is the same for all of them. Geography confers no advantage in this respect, and nor does it impose any penalty. The price is what it is, and it is consistent wherever you happen to be writing from.
Why there are no sales. Not at Christmas. Not ever.
I do not run seasonal promotions. I do not offer Black Friday discounts, Christmas sales, Thanksgiving events, or any other time-limited offer at any point in the year. I want to be straightforward about why, because I think it matters.
Sales events are instruments of volume commerce. They exist to move inventory quickly, to attract buyers who might otherwise hesitate, to create urgency where none naturally exists. I have no interest in any of that. My output is deliberately limited. I am not trying to reach the widest possible audience — I am trying to reach the right one. The customers who find their way to my work have generally done so through reputation, through the recommendations of other practitioners, or through their own patient research. They are not browsing for a bargain. They are looking for something specific, and they understand what quality costs.
A seasonal discount would send precisely the wrong signal to precisely those people. It would suggest that my prices are negotiable, that the value of my work fluctuates with the retail calendar, that I am in some sense like every other seller running promotions in November. I am not, and I have no wish to suggest otherwise.
There is also a practical dimension worth naming. Discounting creates a learned behaviour: customers begin to wait. They hold off purchasing in anticipation of a sale they have come to expect. I will not train that expectation into my customers, because I have no intention of ever fulfilling it. It is simpler — and more honest — to never begin.
On promotion, endorsement, and the value of independence
I want to address something that has come up on more than one occasion, because I think it deserves a plain and unhurried response.
I have received approaches from individuals who have suggested, in various forms, that they would speak favourably about my work in exchange for a discount, complimentary pieces, or some other consideration. The offers have generally been framed as mutually beneficial — they would promote my canes to their audience, and I would reward that promotion accordingly.
I find the premise genuinely puzzling, and I want to explain why without any particular ill will toward those who have proposed it.
Endorsement that is contingent on compensation is not endorsement. It is a transaction with a vocabulary borrowed from genuine recommendation. If someone mentions my work because they sought it out, paid for it at my stated price, and found it to be everything they hoped — that means something. It is the kind of word-of-mouth that has sustained my work for years, offered freely by practitioners and collectors who have no stake in the matter beyond their own honest experience. I value it immeasurably.
What I cannot value, by contrast, is a favourable mention that had to be negotiated for. The moment a kind word about my canes becomes conditional on what I have provided in return, it ceases to tell anyone anything useful about my canes. It tells them only about the arrangement. I am not interested in that kind of visibility, regardless of the size of the audience being offered.
In one instance, a person who made such an approach ultimately purchased at full price and said nothing publicly about the transaction. I note this not with any bitterness — she needed what she came for and she paid for it, which is exactly as it should be — but simply because it rather illustrates the point. The work speaks for itself, or it does not speak. I have no desire to assist it along with subsidised endorsements.
There is a related matter I will address here, since it has also been raised: requests to visit my studio, whether framed as a promotional opportunity, a tour, or an expression of professional curiosity. My studio is my working space. It is where concentration happens and where the craft is practised, and it is not a showroom, a content backdrop, or a venue for guests. It is closed to visitors — not selectively, not with exceptions for the sufficiently persuasive, but as a matter of principle and practice. The people closest to me know better than to enter without purpose when I am at work. Strangers will not be doing so under any circumstances.
I say this without hostility. I simply prefer that the position be unambiguous, so that no one need wonder.
A candid word about future pricing
I will not pretend that my prices are fixed in perpetuity. They are not, and I think it only fair to say so clearly.
The cost of raw rattan has not remained stable, and there is no reason to expect it will. Supply chains are complicated, freight costs are variable, and the rattan trade operates within its own economic pressures that I cannot control and would not wish to obscure. When my material costs rise to a point where absorbing them would require me to compromise on quality, I raise my prices. I do not do so casually or frequently, but I do so when I must — and I will continue to do so.
What I will not do is raise prices and simultaneously lower standards. The two move together or not at all. If my prices increase, it is because the work justifies it: because my materials cost more, because my craft has continued to develop, or because maintaining the quality I have established requires it. I have consistently elevated what I produce over the years. That trajectory is not accidental, and it does not come free.
I raise my prices when the work demands it. I do not lower them when asked.
A closing thought
I recognise that my pricing will not suit everyone, and I mean that without condescension. There are less expensive canes available. Some are perfectly serviceable. If price is the primary consideration, I am probably not the right maker for you — and there is no shame in that. It is simply an honest reckoning with what I offer and what I charge for it.
What I can tell you is that every customer who has purchased from me at my stated prices has paid exactly what I intended to charge — no more, and no less. I find a quiet satisfaction in that consistency. It means the person buying from me for the first time has paid the same fair price as someone who has returned many times over. I do not believe in rewarding hesitation, but neither do I believe in penalising loyalty. The price is the price, and it is the same for everyone.
That is the most equitable arrangement I can offer. And it is the only one I will.
Miss Stripewell
Head Shopmistress & Chief Craftswoman
Stripewell Canes & Englishvice Canes