A Conversation with Paul de Zwart, Founder of Another Country

You established Another Country in 2010. Can you tell me how it came about?

It feels like a long time ago now. I had been working at Wallpaper magazine, and when that phase ended I was, like, ‘Well, what’s next?’ This was at a point in my life when I’d been considering an idea: a furniture brand, with a certain degree of provenance, imbued from the outset with values around sustainability and more respectful working practices, and around natural materials and design longevity. I felt the design scene at the time — we’re talking around 2010 and the decade before that — was, even that late in the day, very focussed on design for design’s sake, and celebrity design, and things that clearly had no aesthetic longevity or even a nod towards sustainability on any level. There was no talk, really, about how things were made, where they were made, about end of life and circularity — nothing. And that kind of bothered me, that new things were getting so much attention at a time when we were already facing a degree of climate emergency.

The driver for this new brand was sustainability?

It was sustainability, yes. But the other key driver was design. I wanted to make things that last: objects that would be made of quality, using quality materials, but also objects that were designed to last in terms of aesthetics. When something is designed for the here and now … Those objects have a place, don’t get me wrong, we need innovation, human nature is about innovation. But we wanted to reinterpret the archetype, to ensure that the things we made would have a creative longevity. We wanted to make things well, but also to design furniture that stood the test of time: it shouldn’t bore you, and it shouldn’t fall apart. So we started to work with wood, and with other renewable materials, and then went about researching natural fibre partners, so that objects would be made from circular and renewable and natural materials.

How was the process of sourcing those kinds of materials?

Slowly what began to become clear was that we were addressing, from day one, really, what I would call the supply chain input. Sourcing timber, manufacturing as sustainably as we can, working with partners and encouraging them to become more sustainable themselves … Some of those things take time — you’re working with others — but over the years our suppliers have become more green. We’ve insisted, for example, on the use of recycled cardboard rather than virgin cardboard, which makes a massive difference to the carbon footprint of the brand. We’re a carbon neutral business now, but we’ve always had to look to improve the supply chain side of things. All of these things were drivers, as well as how we hoped people would live with our pieces — the ergonomics, our clients’ wellbeing, low VOCs — so that when a customer receives one of our objects, it’s not just an item they’ve purchased, it enhances their lives.

Can you tell us about your first pieces?

Aptly, the first pieces were part of a collection called Series 1. The genesis piece was a simple, three-legged, archetypal milk stool. Like most of our collections, a facet of one piece was shared across the whole range: a certain radius, a certain edge, a certain angle to a horizontal plane. Those shapes and forms and measurements inform the entire collection: a stool, a bench, a dining table — they all pick up on a shared something.

Like a family …

Yes. They share particular details. And other ranges share other similarities: the shape of a leg or a chair back. That’s how we think about how we design. I’m not a professional maker, so I wanted to begin with simple forms. What’s interesting is that Series 1 has stood the test of time — it’s still our best-selling collection.

It is?

Yes! There’s something about objects coming without too much baggage that can be quite refreshing. The original idea was to design in a modular fashion, so that the same leg could be attached to a stool, or a bench, so we could make a batch of legs and apply them to a range of designs, which helps with efficiency and scaleability. And there’s also something about pared-back design that makes production more efficient. The more complex you make a piece, the more energy you use. The simpler a piece is, the less energy heavy the production is. Which again, from a point of sustainability, is helpful.

When you first launched, did people understand the value of your ethos?

I think so, though I think it’s become more of a modern day thing, the idea of brands having values, like Patagonia. In 2010, there weren’t many brands who sold based on what they stood for, environmentally. Now I think people have become a bit more conscious about how they spend their money. A lot of our customers are direct consumers — we’re a retail brand first and foremost. Which means people are making their own choices. And they think about a product’s longevity, and they buy with a set of values in mind, in the same way they might now buy an electric vehicle, or they might buy produce from Riverford Organic, or they might choose to wear certain apparel brands over others. They’ve made those choices — now, how do they choose the right thing for their home? That’s how I see it. I think people have become increasingly conscious when it comes to that sort of thinking.

When we launched, we were just the new kid on the block, and we got a lot of press. People liked the way we spoke, our story, our values — people really did respond to that. But inevitably that slowed down, and market dynamics took over, and we had to focus on our own channels. That’s when we opened a store. And for us, sticking to and fulfilling our own personal values through what we do as a business has remained — and still is — as important as the selling.

When that initial buzz wears off, I imagine it could be tough for a brand that doesn’t have a strong set of values to fall back on …

It’s interesting. I’ve seen a lot of very talented young designers come to market with their ideas, but it’s a tough sector. The UK has very good design schools, but it’s thin on the grounds in terms of businesses — it doesn’t have the big names that Italy or Denmark do — so there aren’t that many employers. A lot of students are encouraged to start their own businesses, to get out there, and they come out of the blocks with a lot of positivity and ideas, and slowly the reality hits. That’s when you need to fall back on the storytelling, on those values. You can’t be just a maker. You need to be a good communicator, and a businessperson, and a designer, and it’s really difficult. We’ve always looked at everything holistically. Maybe that’s what’s carried us through. I had a good idea and have stuck to a story, and created a brand that people can respond to and relate to, rather than just a brand that sells a product.

Why did you have such a strong personal reaction to what was going on in the design industry in the 2010s, in terms of newness, and a lack of sustainability in the industry?

It was a personal conscience issue. I could understand that a large legacy business might struggle to quickly turn itself around and improve its working practices, to overturn the objectives of yesterday. I could understand that that was a process, because of shareholder interests. But I found it difficult to accept that a new business at that time — we’re talking the 2000s — could come out and just completely disregard the challenges we were already facing! When I look at any object, I always think, ‘Well, what’s going to happen to it once it’s used?’ And usually I will look at something and I will know: ‘Well, that’s landfill.’ And when I see new businesses doing this, especially now, I find that difficult to accept. I’m not against businesses making money! That’s fine. But the fact we are disregarding the bigger picture, it’s completely counterintuitive. And plain wrong.

You said that over time you have encouraged suppliers to become more sustainable. Is that you always pushing them?

Yes. As much as we possibly can. We initially started making here, in the UK, in a workshop in Dorset. And then we worked with a maker in Norwich. And then we looked at Portugal — a very good brand approached us and were keen to work with us, and there were certain competitive advantages. Portugal has a lot of manufacturing skill-sets. They also have a lot of ongoing investment in the sector, so the factories and workshops there are really well tooled up, much more than here. And also it benefits from being a less expensive country to live in, which means the cost of living is lower, which means wages and overheads are lower. So, inevitably, you can make as well for less money. But what typically happens is you work with a factory that already has a way of doing things, and you have to adapt to their model, which can be very frustrating. That’s always been a real struggle. We will say, ‘Please pack this way. Please use that natural oil,’ and so on. And unless you’re a really, really big customer of theirs, they will say, ‘Listen, this is how we do it.’ Very frustrating.

But over the years things have changed. Like I said, our current suppliers have started to use recycled cardboard, which makes a massive difference. There’s a lot of solar panels on the roof of the factory now — I think they’re up to about 75% solar now. That makes a difference too. And the grid in Portugal, as it happens, is 50% green, 50% grey — as a nation they’ve been proactive in that respect. So when I look at my carbon footprint, I know it takes X amount of kilowatts per hour to run the factory, and my pieces take X amount of hours to produce, so I can work out the energy is required to make the piece. So that’s been great — to be able to advance with that.

The second part of this conversation is how people live with our furniture, how it comes into the home. Our finishes are all plant-based — plant-based oils and plant-based wax. We use paper tape, instead of VC tape. All of these little things add up. And we look at our delivery supply chains as much as we can. Our transporter is carbon neutral, through offsetting, which is a last resort, but … So we chose a transporter that is the most green, in relative terms. And it goes on: for our UK and deliveries, we have several electric van options, we try to use those. You can’t do it all — we have to accept that — but every incremental change makes a difference.

Are your suppliers in Portugal reacting more positively now to your requests?

When I work with suppliers, this is my thing: I always first try to have a personal connection to the owner or the manager — the owner, ideally — and understand what makes him or her tick. And, you know, I appeal to their sense of self, their sense of family, their own future as people. I use those angles. It isn’t just about money, it’s about the lives of our children. If you keep going at it purely from an economic point of view, it’s hard to win the battle — using recycled cardboard costs more than using virgin cardboard, for example. But yes, I think they’re more receptive. We have to think about their supply chains, their other clients. They might not care like we do. And if we make up just 20% of their business, it would be inefficient for them to do just what we want. Then it becomes important to know what the factory believes in. What is their ethos? Do they care or not? That’s the discussion you have to have. You have to add value in a different way. They are subtle conversations.

It seems like so much work …

Sometimes it is a lot of work. And sometimes you don’t make progress. It’s a complex system. You’re buying raw materials from all over. So you have to weigh up what is possible and what isn’t. And you have to understand that their lives are super busy. They’re producing hundreds of products, not just yours. They’re dealing with many different supply chains and suppliers and clients. You also have to be understanding. If you’re Ikea, to use an easy example, and Ikea says to the supplier, ‘Listen, this is how we want to do things,’ well, the supplier either adapts and changes or Ikea go somewhere else. That’s where the real power lies, with the bigger companies. We push as much as we can, and talking about it like this is important, it has inherent value. But the effect you have isn’t perhaps as great as when a bigger entity decides to effect change. That’s when it’s exciting.

Have you noticed that happening?

Yes. I think the likes of Ikea seem, on the surface at least, well, they’re saying a lot of good things. I think the UK is pretty good when it comes to this. Even though we have no timber sourcing, barely any raw materials. There’s a good tradition of making here and good examples brands talking the right kind of talk. It’s still a big industry with a lot of waste. But the ideas are reaching people.

You’re a carbon neutral business. How important is that to you as a brand?

It’s hard when you’re not a big business, I’ll say that. Having the B Corp certification, or other accreditations, they matter at the large-scale end of the market. And we do do it, but the certificates cost money. I spend thousands, annually, to maintain them. So do we keep doing that? Or do we just carry on quietly doing the right thing, and hope people see what we’re doing, even without the certificate? For us it’s a lot of money but it’s important. It makes it really clear that as a brand we are dedicated to being good corporate citizens. By being carbon neutral, it means that everything we do is designed to reduce our footprint. It confirms a nature-friendly approach to working. That’s what we all must do. (Offsetting should be a last resort). It’s important to us to give customers a sense that they’re buying a product that was made in good conscience and with respect for the environment.

It must make a difference to consumers …

It should do.

With regards to longevity, the idea is that people buy stuff from you and it’s with them for good, right?

Ideally. Ideally for good, yes. Critically, we make things well. If something isn’t as it should be we replace it, which doesn’t happen too often, and will normally be just a little thing, a small moment of human error. We aspire to make the best way possible and our pieces should last forever. And we can repair it — it’s all infinitely repairable. We always ask, How can we do things differently? How do we improve? We’re not dogmatic that way. Despite our modest size, we try to be innovative. We have values, but they can be expressed through different ideas or materials, through different kinds of circularity.

You’re always trying to push forward.

Yes, to push forward.

What’s next for the brand?

There are two ways to answer that. One is from a business perspective: we’d like to be able to grow, to keep growing at a modest pace. We’re not a brand that has years worth of pipelines. We make things at the pace that we can make them, and at the pace that people need them. We’re not a massive team, so things take time. And we’re absolutely sticking to our values, and the ways we work, and we’re always reimagining what that means. We need to remain a part of the solution. It’s not about selling more stuff, it’s about having a bigger share of the pie, so that things that are assembly made perhaps don’t get purchased as much. We want to fulfil our clients’ needs for their homes, but in a way that, hopefully, will not do any damage to our lovely world. That’s how we see things.