I had a Tumblr blog. If you know, you know. If you don't, it was a place where you curated the life you were going to have one day, in images, obsessively, with a dedication that in retrospect was basically a full-time job done entirely for free at age fifteen. Mine was full of fashion. Specifically: the pieces I would own one day, when I was older, when I had money, when the gap between who I was and the image on the screen had closed itself somehow.
Isabel Marant trainers. The Dior round sunglasses with the half-tinted lenses. A Mulberry Alexa bag. I was after the kind of vibe that said: I have arrived somewhere, and it looks like this. I had not arrived anywhere. I was a teenager with a sometimes good eye and no budget and a Tumblr board that was basically an extremely detailed vision board before vision boards were a thing people talked about out loud.
The Starbucks drink with the instagram filter was, I'll be honest, about as far as I could get toward that world at the time. And I'm not saying this with any sadness, my childhood was genuinely wonderful, full of the things that actually matter. But material things were always just slightly out of reach, and I knew it, and I filed it very carefully under one day.
My parents were extraordinarily giving with what they had, and I knew, even then, that every generous present cost them something real. I have three sisters. The maths of generosity in a big family is not simple.
But the girl with the Tumblr board never entirely went away. She just grew up and started a swimwear brand and decided, somewhere along the line, that she wanted to make something she would have saved up for as a teenager.
My kids are obsessed with the foil rip toy things, they collect them from Selfridges, little superhero bag charms in the sealed packets, the whole tear-to-reveal ritual. There's something deeply satisfying about it that never entirely leaves you, regardless of age. The not knowing and then the knowing. The moment of opening. I wanted that for the bikini. I also wanted it to be accessible at the half the price.
The beginning of every month we will announce to our mailing list, which is, of course free to join, a limited drop release of Strike Lucky packets - available in any size - where you can own a piece of MB for half the price.
You don't have to wait for one day anymore.
Tear the foil. Find out your colourway. Own the whole thing. The Strike Lucky is a full Matchbox Bikini, it arrives in a branded matchbox inside a holographic foil packet, at exactly half price, because everyone deserves a shot at it.
My teenage self saved this kind of thing on a Tumblr board and hoped. This is us opening the door.