She was someone I believed in. A lady who did everything her way. A lady who turned the cosmetic industry upside down.
She believed in fair play and honesty. She started a company, the Body Shop, that laid more stress on products than on packaging. A company that sold cosmetics not by making consumers worry about their looks but by stressing the benefits of its products. A company that did not need an advertising campaign for a long time.
She belonged to the cosmetic industry. But spoke out against the big companies, accusing them of making women insecure about their looks and bodies. She told ageing women to be proud of their wrinkles. She pointed out that the supermodels who advertised products were not representative of the world’s female population.
She was an entrepreneur. But was at the forefront of protests against globalisation, saying it was resulting in the exploitation of the poor. She braved police attacks during G8 summits as she stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her friends, demanding a better deal for the underprivileged.
She made me believe that not all businesses were about making money. Or about deceiving customers. She made me believe that one could be honest and still run a profitable business. She made me believe that at least some businesspeople were more worried about the state of the world than that of the stock market.
She was my hero. And now she is dead. At 64.
Correction: she is my hero. Still.
I am not looking for a replacement.
Rest in peace, Dame Roddick.
You will be in my heart. Always.
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