Five Years of Miss G & Me: Building Australia's Dedicated Tall Women's Clothing Label
- Penni Lamprey
- 5 days ago
- 8 min read
Five Years. The Back Story.
By Penni Lamprey, Founder & Designer, Miss G & Me
Five years ago this week, a parcel left Tasmania after my phone made a sound I'd never heard before.
I was sitting in the kitchen when it happened. My children and I looked at each other. We knew the ding-dong sound of a site visitor - but this was new.
Could it be...a sale...?!
It was.
Our first sale. Our first brrriiing from the web site!
And now, five years on, I want to tell you some more of the story. Not the highlight reel. The whole thing - the highs, the lows, the manufacturers who closed, the photoshoot days I dreaded, the eulogy I delivered standing tall for the first time in my life, and the women who made every hard moment worth it.
Swipe through, or settle in. This one's for all of us.
Chapter One: The First Brriiing
I hadn't expected anyone to read the post. I'd written about my husband seeing me in the first Maggie Wool Jumper sample - the way his eyes lit up, the way he walked over and kissed me without a word.
It was a love story really, about a jumper, and what it meant to finally make something right.
Monique in Queensland read it. And she ordered.
The thing is, I didn't even have stock. She pre-ordered something I hadn't made yet, on blind faith that it would fit her, that it would be what I'd described.
That kind of trust is extraordinary. It still is.
That first brring sent my heart into a flutter I haven't quite recovered from.
Monique has since visited Hobart more than once. She's tried on everything. She's written reviews that made us oh so proud. She's had pants named in her honour - the Monique Straight Leg - because she earned it. She was there before we were ready, and that matters more than I can say.
To Monique, and every woman who ordered before we'd found our feet: you are the reason we're still here.
Chapter Two: The Man in the Background
There's not a lot of photo's of us together in five years of Miss G & Me content. And that's very much him.
Mr Miss G & Me has never wanted to be the story. He's in a reel here and there - a glimpse, a presence - but always in the background, exactly where he chose to be.
What he has been, consistently and without fanfare, is steady. Every late night. Every manufacturer crisis. Every moment I wobbled and wasn't sure we could keep going. He was there. Quiet, present, certain when I wasn't.
He does at times wonder out loud why I just didn't go to a tailor and kit myself out that way, but that's a story of disasociation for another time.
The moment I write about - that kiss, when he saw me in the first Maggie Knit sample - wasn't performed for anyone. It was just him, seeing me, seeing what I'd made, and knowing before I did that it was something.
That's the foundation this label was built on. You won't often see it. But it's there in everything we make.
Chapter Three: Miss G
Five years ago, a selfie with Mum was fine.
These days, she vets them. Reviews them. Occasionally - occasionally - grants permission.
But I have a secret stash..
Miss G is the future. She's every tall young woman who deserves to grow up knowing that clothes will fit her. That her height is something to dress beautifully, not apologise for. That she will never have to stand in a change room and feel like her body is the problem.
I'm the Me. I'm you, right now - a tall woman who spent decades in clothes that almost fit, who got used to tugging hems and pushing up sleeves and accepting "long enough" as good enough.
The label was always both of us. The next generation and this one, together.
Chapter Four: The Hard Yards
Let me be honest with you about what these five years have actually looked like.
Six manufacturers in Victoria. Two in Tasmania. Some retired. Some closed mid-season with little notice. One phone call reduced me to tears. Each time, I picked up the patterns, found someone new, and started again.
I started this label during COVID, from an island I couldn't leave, with zero experience in an industry that doesn't make it easy to stay small, stay local, or stay true.
The Australian manufacturing landscape is in genuine crisis - and we have felt every tremor of it.
And then there's the other hard part. The one people don't usually talk about.
Being the model.
There aren't many 6'1 women in their fifties stepping in front of a camera to show you how clothes actually fit on a real tall body.
On shoot days I feel more exposed than on any other day of this whole venture. It's the thing I find hardest - more than the manufacturing challenges, more than the late nights.
But representation doesn't happen by accident. You deserve to see yourself in the clothes before you buy them. Not a 'kinda tall' sample model with the hem let down, wearing size 6.
A real tall woman, in her fifties, showing you exactly how it sits, how it moves, what it does for a frame like ours.
So I show up. Every time. Even when it's the hardest part.
Chapter Five: Funerals
In May 2023, my dad passed away.
I stood to deliver his eulogy in front of the people who had gathered to celebrate his life. And for the first time I can remember - for the very first time - what I was wearing was not a source of anxiety.
No cropped hems. No fidgeting. No pulling sleeves down or shifting weight to hide the gap between my pants and my shoes. No hiding behind a lectern because standing in front of it felt too exposed.
I stood tall. I was present. I was there, fully, for him.
He would have been proud of the pride I had for myself.
Clothes that properly fit are not vanity. They are dignity. They are the freedom to be fully present in the moments that matter most - funerals, job interviews, first days, last days, ordinary Tuesdays that turn out to be anything but ordinary.
This is what we're building. Garment by garment.
Chapter Six: Our Forever Home
In 2024 we built our MGM forever home in Cambridge, and with it came the studio - a modern warehouse solution.
Every hook is placed at a tall woman's height. Every mirror shows a full-length reflection. Every fitting seat is positioned so that a tall woman sits comfortably, not hunched. The light is good. The space is generous. It was built, intentionally and entirely, for women like us.
Women have walked in here nervous, quiet, half-convinced that nothing would fit. They've stepped out from behind the curtain and faced the big mirror - that mirror that's seen more transformation than any department store could - and something has shifted.
The lifted chin. The quiet exhale. The eyes meeting the mirror with something new.
Some have laughed. Some have cried. Some have had their person - their partner, their daughter, their friend - reach out and touch their shoulder and say, without words, there you are.
Sometimes, there is a kiss.
The studio is open for appointments. If you've been meaning to come, come. It's worth the trip. ☕
Chapter Seven: Self-Efficacy
Psychologists call it self-efficacy - the belief that you can handle life's moments. That you are capable. That you belong in the room.
It's built through experience. Through repeated proof that things work out. For tall women, for too long, clothing has done the opposite - it has chipped away at that belief, one too-short sleeve at a time.
We've watched self-efficacy rebuild itself in this studio, over and over. In the way a woman's posture changes when a waistband sits where her waist actually is. In the way she reaches for something on a high shelf without thinking twice about what might be exposed. In the way she laughs - really laughs - because she's not thinking about her clothes at all.
That's the goal. Every time. Clothes that reveal your confidence.
Chapter Eight: The Community
There are over 1,200 of you in our Tall Australian Women Facebook group.
You've written reviews that stopped us in our tracks. "I cried. Honestly. Tears of joy. Pants that actually fit." - Beth, 6'1". We read that and felt it in our bones.
You've sent midnight emails asking if we could express post something for a funeral, a job interview, a conference you'd forgotten about. We have. Every time.
You've pre-ordered garments that didn't exist yet. You've shared our posts with your daughters, your colleagues, your tall friends who had given up. You've returned things that didn't quite work and trusted us to get it right the second time. You've left five star reviews not just for the clothes, but for what the clothes made you feel.
You built this label alongside me. Every order, every share, every kind word sent on an ordinary Wednesday - it all mattered. It all still does.
We are not here without you. That is not a small thing to say.
Chapter Nine: Fighting to Stay Australian Made
In late Oct 2024 I flew to Melbourne on a mercy dash.
Our manufacturer after more than 30 years in the industry - called to say they were closing. The phone call reduced me to tears. Six months later, my next maker called too. His kids had finished university. It was time for a long holiday. Just like that.
I didn't tell you at the time. I wanted to shield you from uncertainty about whether Miss G & Me would keep its footing.
In July 2025 I found someone new. He looked at what we were doing - the proportions, the care, the intention - and he said yes. I felt relief.
Five months later, he stopped taking my calls.
In January 2026, a woman rang asking what new work she could do for us. He had simply taken my patterns and my fabric to another maker. No conversation. No warning. Just gone.
I still haven't fully recovered from that.
I'm telling you this not for sympathy, but because you deserve to know what it actually takes to keep this label alive and Australian made. It is not clean or straightforward. It is being fought for, repeatedly, with everything I have.
I again flew to Melbourne and visited the lady that called, she showed me around her workrooms, her sister is the boss, but she is the day to day manager - I've seen the team lunch making progression, the cuttingvand sewing rooms and if you're wearing Kim, Jessica or Kerri, you're wearing her teams efforts - they are special. Their work continues because there are tall women who still haven't found us.
The Australian manufacturing landscape is shrinking rapidly. In some workrooms, the youngest person on the floor is over 50. TAFE training for machinists is nearly non-existent. Fabric merchants are closing. No one is being trained to service the sewing machines.
The economics are brutal. I'm doing all I can to support the craftsmanship that exists here in Australia.
Chapter Ten: Year Six
Five years of firsts.
Ankles finally covered. Sleeves that reach wrists. Waists that sit where waists actually are. Choice offered for the VERY first time to Tall Australian Women. Women who stood in front of mirrors and saw themselves - really saw themselves - for the first time in a long time.
Women who dressed for funerals without dread. Who walked into job interviews feeling formidable. Who travelled overseas with Maddie Chillax pants snuggly worn, for the first time, they had something worth packing.
Women who sighed with relief in the studio. Who laughed. Who sent us photos from Norway, from Japan, New York, from interstate conferences, from their own backyards on a Saturday morning.
We are not here to mass-produce. We are here to make beautiful clothes that matter - to the women who wear them, to the makers who make them, to the industry that desperately needs someone to hold the line on quality.
Year six. The studio is here. The label is here. The community - you - are here.
We're just getting started. 🖤
Miss G & Me is the only Australian-made tall women's clothing label. Founded and designed by Penni Lamprey, 6'1", with a deep focus on the relationship between wellbeing and clothing fit - because clothes that fit positively contribute to self-esteem. That is the heart of everything we make.
