
Aesop In-House Copywriter
Three years as an in-house copywriter for Aesop (and subsequent years as a freelance writer) honed, sharpened and polished my writing, editing and proofreading skills to reflect and complement the brand's exacting standards. As one of two writers responsible for all Aesop communications globally, each day was spent immersed in the goal of delivering copy befitting the company's reputation for creating products and signature stores of exceptional quality.
Since Aesop uttered its first social media murmur on Twitter in 2011, I delighted in my role as primary generator and writer of content, which was then a unique blend of arts-, design- and literature-focused content. Within a year of posting Aesop's first image on Instagram, I was ecstatic to witness our following swell to 50,000, enjoying a period as an Instagram-recommended account. I spearheaded Aesop’s use of Instagram as a platform to showcase global store design.



Aesop Mouthwash
In my time at Aesop, my favourite campaign was the launch of Mouthwash. With license to inject a little lightheartedness and irreverence, I wrote the product’s label copy as well as the window vinyl copy used internationally, which detailed how to kiss.
Product label: Aesop considers good manners and impeccable hygiene essential to cordial daily conduct. And so, to politely protect the olfactory contentment of your loyal loved ones, fellow commuters, or neighbouring theatre-goers, we advise a voluminous swig and gargle of Aesop mouthwash prior to all public appearances.
Window vinyl: Swig and gargle mouthwash. Offer lips slightly parted. If nervous, feign composure. Move your hand swiftly and smoothly to rest on your lover’s nape. Draw them in gently; haste may cause whiplash. Kiss. Relish the flavours of Spearmint, Clove, Aniseed. With both parties’ consent, repeat the process.
I was beyond delighted to read Condé Nast’s fashion site, style.com’s, thoughts on the label copy:
’It’s likely the most prolific set of directions I’ve ever laid eyes on. And with the Paris Review being of the most discerning taste (featuring works by writers such as Jack Kerouac and Adrienne Rich, as well as “conversations” with Joan Didion, William Faulkner, and Truman Capote, on its pages), I can only imagine the editors found it equally as impressive.’