Five years ago, I was living life at full speed, working long hours, juggling four businesses in the vibrant London restaurant industry. I was executive chef and creative director for my first hotel restaurant, The Nitery, at St Martins Lane Hotel. I co-owned the plant-based burger chain Filth with model and nutritionist Rosemary Ferguson, and co-owned Giz’n’Green Pizza Pies with Professor Green. I was about to open an eatery in Margate with my long-time friend Carl Barât from The Libertines. My social media profile must have looked frantic with glitzy openings and events. But that all changed overnight when a perfect storm of events led me to lose everything.
It all happened so quickly. In 2020, I was about to open The Nitery when I suddenly needed an urgent, debilitating operation a few days before the launch. In hospital I got pleurisy – inflammation around the lungs, which causes sharp chest pain. Instead of taking everyone’s advice and resting, I pushed myself to go ahead with the launch. Then, two days after the opening, one of my closest friends, the TV presenter Caroline Flack, took her own life. The grief completely floored me but I had no choice but to carry on. The new restaurant was buzzing; then, six weeks in, Covid hit and I had to shut up shop when I’d only just started.
I was taking medication to manage my ADHD, which I was diagnosed with when I was 34, but I always felt high from it. I realised benzodiazepines would help bring me down, but I quickly got addicted to these and sleeping pills. Before the pandemic, I was partying constantly. It’s very ‘hospitality’ to work hard and party harder.
While many of us were forced to slow down during Covid, Giz’n’Green thrived, and we started the build for the Margate site. But, eventually, everything imploded: all the plates I was spinning came crashing down. I had to make some very tough decisions and I felt like I had no choice but to walk away from my businesses – each for a different reason and each with a different set of nightmares.
I lost hundreds of thousands of pounds, mostly from loans I took out and trying to move money around to save two of the businesses. For the first time since I was 15, I didn’t have a job. I fell into acute depres- sion. I struggled to get out of bed in the mornings and spent days on the sofa riddled with ADHD paralysis. I’d barely experienced that particular symptom before because I’d always had something to get up for. Instead, I’d fixate on my phone, obsessing over other people’s lives on social media and assuming everyone else was doing just fine. I felt lost, irrelevant and like I was being overtaken, which was a shock. I lost any kind of executive function and confidence to do the job I’d done for more than 20 years. It was like my life had just... stopped.
It was clear I needed serious support and I was lucky that friends and family rallied around me. Had I known about a charity called Smart Works at the time, which is instrumental in getting unemployed women back into work, I’d have bounced back a lot quicker. It’s such a simple service – dressing and coaching women for interviews, but psychologically it’s everything.
It’s all relative, but back then I had to downsize all aspects of my life, from where I could afford to eat to who I socialised with. I lost friends from the industry. I was still being invited to Michelin-star restaurant openings, but I couldn’t even afford to get the bus there. I became very insular and anxious about going out.
I was still living in the amazing house in east London I bought myself when I was 33, but the reality was I couldn’t afford to pay my mortgage – Christ, I couldn’t afford to eat sometimes. I owed so much money I realised the only way out was to sell my dream house. Until I could do that, I was financially screwed. Selling up was the real turning point. I’d been fighting for my life against the debt collectors to stop them taking everything I’d worked so hard for and the sale meant I was finally able to pay them off. From there, I was able to claw back a tiny bit of money, which allowed me to restart my life. I moved into a more afford- able area and invested what little money I had left back into my social platforms.
I found my voice again and got a new newspaper column. I repackaged The Nitery into a travelling restaurant called Cuisine PLC. Within three months, I was making money. Now I’m in a positive financial situation again and, mentally, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I have managed to build a strong relationship with my partner [musician Matthew Turner], too.
Despite how debilitating those years were, when I look back, I realise everything that happened needed to so that I could feel how I do today. It forced me to reset, which I desperately needed. My priorities shifted; I still love working, but I’m now able to focus on my relationship, be present and feel freer. Life is simpler now, I am not remotely the party animal I once was. I love to entertain at home and see my real friends – you do find out who those are very quickly.
I’m in a privileged position in that I had a career to fight for, but the experience reframed the way I view failure. It’s one of the most productive things you can do, although that’s hard to see when you’re in the thick of it. Now, I’m taking each day as it comes and using the life lessons I’ve learned to make sure none of this happens again.
Find out more about how you can donate, volunteer or book an appointment with Smart Works at smartworks.org.uk and @smartworkscharity on Instagram
Pic credit: Giorgio Lattanzi.
@george_giorgio