The Raincouver really started with my grandfather, Lloyd.

As a young child I eagerly joined him while walking his black dogs, Duke and Duchess, down dark countryside roads where the sky was untouched by light pollution. Under the stars, he taught me how to find constellations, but more importantly, he taught me about responsibility, preparedness, and personal safety. Wearing his high-visibility vest and carrying a military grade flashlight, he made sure we were always seen, even on roads where seldom even two vehicles would pass.

It was the beginning of a coming-of-age movie: in 2019, I moved to Kitsilano within walking distance of my first corporate job. It was the beginning of summer, when Vancouver particularly shines. I got a fancy new bike, the kind that converts down and is foldable for storing. It was my time to become a bonafide Vancouverite. Although born and raised in BC, biking to work in Kitsilano during this time of year felt more like a rite of passage. As a young woman starting in the beauty industry, looks did matter. I wanted to stay visible while biking, but the only options looked like I was clocking in for a construction shift. I settled for a hot pink hi-vis vest that I wore over my jacket and backpack. On my first day cycling to work, my manager teased my outfit choices.

All of my outerwear choices were influenced by those early lessons from my grandfather; winter jackets with a reflective stripe down the back, lime green yoga mat bags, bright white running hoodies, it appeared I always had to trade style for safety. Friends and colleagues would poke fun at these choices. I knew personal safety was important, but it seemed to come at a social cost.

I know what it's like to be both a driver and pedestrian in our pacific north west climate, with the dark days and heavy rain, it is hard to be seen. I wanted something better. Something refined, functional, and high quality.

So in 2020, I founded what would become The Raincouver. Reflective outerwear that actually looks good, not gear you feel embarrassed to wear.