The Moment Before Everything Changes

You rarely notice the moment something becomes outdated.

I didn’t come from this world. My world was fashion. New York Fashion Week, building a brand that sold out through David Jones, thinking in terms of image, culture, and desire.

I’ve had a coffee almost every day since I was sixteen. On the way to school, between meetings, backstage, on set. Very consistent. Some might say committed.

The cup it came in? I never questioned it. Not once.

Until I did.

And it was one of those moments people talk about, slightly cliché but completely true. The kind where everything sharpens at once. You see it clearly, and just as quickly, you can’t understand how you didn’t see it before.

Everything started to connect. The material, the people, the timing. Even the challenges. And there were many.

I found myself in rooms I had created. Conversations I had pushed into existence through sheer belief and momentum. I didn’t stop to ask who I thought I was being there.

But the room did.

Meetings where I wasn’t taken seriously. Where you could feel the unspoken question sitting just beneath the surface. How did you end up here? And more importantly, why do you think you should be?

I see you following along now.

But that’s the thing about signals. Once you notice them, you can’t unsee them.

Because once you start noticing something like that, you start seeing it everywhere.

Not just in cups.

In everything.

We’ve seen this pattern before.

BlackBerry Limited was everywhere. Completely untouchable. Until it wasn’t.

Then the iPhone arrived.

Same category. Better experience.

And suddenly, what once felt essential felt… dated.

DVDs didn’t disappear because people stopped watching films.

Netflix just made it easier.

Same outcome. Less effort.

And overnight, entire collections became redundant.

Music didn’t change.

Ownership did.

Spotify made access instant.

And once you experienced that, going back felt unnecessary.

It’s never really about the thing itself.

It’s about the moment something better removes a layer you didn’t even realise was there.

And that’s when I went back to the cup.

Because for something so constant in my life, it had been completely invisible.

Every coffee. Every meeting. Every set. Every airport lounge.

Paper on the outside.

Plastic on the inside.

Next time you get a takeaway coffee, have a look.

Do you see PHA anywhere?

No.

You’ll see PE. Maybe something labelled aqueous. Different language, same outcome.

It works.

Which is usually why things stay exactly as they are.

Until you realise…

it doesn’t actually make sense anymore.

And here’s the part that surprised me most.

It’s not often you come across something that isn’t already done. Already saturated. Already sitting somewhere in the world, waiting to be slightly improved.

This wasn’t that.

PHA-lined cups are only just emerging.

You’re not seeing them used at scale in cafés.

A fully PHA lid? Also not something sitting across supply chains.

I remember thinking…

how is this not already everywhere?

And that’s when you realise you’re not just looking at a product.

You’re looking at a window.

Not a big one. The kind that only exists for a short period of time, before something moves from unknown… to everywhere.

Because this is how change actually happens.

Quietly.

Then all at once.

It’s only a matter of time.

Because this is how it always happens.

You don’t notice when something changes, or quietly disappears…

when it’s done well.