Only weeks apart, two very different stories from the same publication appeared about Grace Beverley in the British press. At the end of 2025, one piece framed her as the Oxford student-turned founder of a £70 million wellness empire that originated out of Instagram. Then, early in 2026, accounts revealed that Tala — her gymwear brand — had grown revenue ~18% to £19.8 million but seen its losses widen to a net £2.49 million.
The language did the heavy lifting. Tala’s performance was couched in business terms — “healthy” revenue growth, entering new wholesale partnerships, expanding into physical stores — yet the headline fixated on “widened losses”. Losses aren’t simply reported; they are narrated. They mount, they loom, they suggest slippage — and suddenly what had been invested ambition becomes overreach.
These are not anomalous patterns. Losses are part of scaling — they track hiring, distribution, international strategy shifts, unanticipated tariffs, even the basic cost of choosing growth over immediate profitability. But context gets stripped when the founder is a woman with a visible public profile.
Contrast this with how the UK media talks about male founders. When Elon Musk presides over repeated losses at Tesla, headlines read like character studies in innovation: “the cost of innovation” or “long-term bets”. When Richard Branson’s ventures stumble, the narrative tends toward colourful risk-taking, a footnote in a larger life of bravura. In men, failure is texture. In women, it too often becomes evidence.
The playbook is familiar: celebrate women on the rise, then scrutinise them in the murky middle. When Holly Tucker stepped back from her Notonthehighstreet, the headlines lingered on what hadn’t worked rather than what she built. When Emily Weiss faced operational challenges with Glossier, coverage wondered whether the brand’s “hype had finally caught up with it”. The subtext is predictable: women’s success is provisional; they must continually justify both their ascent and their endurance.
