This is my mantra. My sense check.
“Does it matter?”
Does it? Really? REALLY?
When I’m down, angry, pissed off and worried, I ask myself that.
“Nick. Does. It. Matter?”
Does it matter that I failed? No. I tried.
Does it matter that I made a dick of myself on that podcast? Only if you care what strangers think.
Does it matter, that stuff I went through as a kid? Not anymore.
Do my kids matter? YES.
Does my collection of Eighties bike racing magazines matter. Errrrrr, ummm…no.
Does that ornate Art Deco heirloom that my daughter just smashed on the floor matter? No. I won’t swear. I won’t go mad. I’ll check her feet for glass. That matters.
Staying alive matters.
Talking to someone when you feel like you want to die matters.
It matters so so much, to you and people you know and people you’ve never met, but will do, in the future, when you’re better.
People matter a fuck of a lot.
Trying to find love when you feel alone matters.
Overcoming your fear of humiliation so you go and get life matters.
Someone saying “no” to your idea doesn’t matter. Not now, then or a 100 times later.
“No. No. No. I don’t like you. I don’t like your idea. I don’t like your face. No."
Ask again. Find the one that says yes. It could take 10,001 nos.
Keeping going matters.
That big bastard scratch down the side of your new car doesn’t matter. It’s just STUFF.
I lost my shit, swearing into the sky the other day when a bus drove straight past me and my kids. I’m not perfect. I was tired. I’m trying. It doesn’t matter.
You having a FRAHM jacket doesn’t matter. Honestly, it doesn’t. I mean that. It’s vital you know that.
Great jackets matter to me, because it’s my purpose and our income.
Having a great jacket is great. But it doesn’t MATTER.
There’s “Does It Matter?” and there’s “Does It Really Matter?”
If I lose this business, my livelihood, does it matter?
Yea, it does. But it doesn’t REALLY matter.
Dying really really matters.
Loving really really matters.
A business/my business? Does that matter?
I’ve been through losing a business. God it hurt.
Losing a business when you bet the farm on it, matters.
But you, I, we can get over that, with time and effort.
So, it doesn’t REALLY matter. Eventually. I promise.
In the depths of despair, with my sanity gone, with my debt, humiliation, fear, I asked myself all day, every day “What matters?”
The internet trolls? Do they change my mind, my family, my decency? No, I won’t let them.
Does selling our house to pay our debts off avoid bankruptcy matter? Yes. But no.
These are events in my life. Not full stops.
My kids growing up with a dad. That matters.
What REALLY, TRULY, matters?
A nice house? Nice car? Weekends away?
They’re smashing, but they don’t matter.
Freedom, purpose, health, joy, optimism?
They matter. They really truly matter.
We lose context. Advertising tells we need more, that all this shiny shiny stuff matters.
Jackets. Do. Not. Matter.
In Lockdown we are asked to decide what matters. We have to reassess.
A job matters. Losing a job matters.
But you can carry on without a job. It’s horrible. I’ve been there.
But you’re breathing. If you did it once, you can do it again.
Breathing matters. It really really matters.
Staying here with us, recovering, that really matters.
Hang on to the most important stuff, not possessions or cruel words.
Live for what really matters, and life will be better.
Jackets matter to me. But they don’t REALLY matter.
FRAHM is here because I’m good at making jackets. It feeds my family and my purpose. I’m good at it.
But we can’t and must not tell you, ever, that you are a lesser person without one. Because you’re not.
Lesser jackets than ours are just lesser jackets, not lesser people in them.
Look after what matters. Cling onto those things.
The few, precious jewels of Life, Love, Health.
If you have all 3, you’ve hit the jackpot.
I hope you get to keep them all as long as possible.
We all matter, all of us.
Jackets don’t matter, people do.