The Direct to Consumer Playbook

Have you ever wondered what it really takes to build a brand that connects directly with its customers—and thrives without relying on the retail giants? The Direct to Consumer Playbook by Mike Stevens addresses that exact question through a rich tapestry of founder stories and practical principles. Stevens, a UK-based entrepreneur who helped launch innocent drinks and founded Peppersmith, argues that the future of selling is personal. In his view, success in the direct-to-consumer (DTC) space is not about having the fanciest technology or biggest advertising budget—it's about mastering the fundamentals: understanding your customers deeply, creating authentic brands, and building communities that turn buyers into believers.

The book reveals the strategies behind sixteen pioneering DTC companies—ranging from graze, Huel, Snag, and Bloom & Wild to global disruptors like Casper and Sugru. It’s a tour of businesses that reinvented categories from tights to toilet paper by cutting out the middlemen and connecting more directly with people who cared. The central argument Stevens makes is simple but profound: DTC is far more than a sales channel—it’s a mindset. To succeed, founders must behave less like manufacturers chasing efficiency and more like empathetic creators devoted to customers’ happiness.

Why DTC Matters Now

Traditional retail is slow, hierarchical, and profit-driven to favor big brands. When Stevens launched Peppersmith, he realized that even outstanding products struggled to gain space on supermarket shelves because those shelves were controlled by buyers loyal to legacy brands. The digital revolution changed this imbalance of power. Suddenly, anyone could sell online and reach customers directly—but most founders didn’t yet understand how. This insight—painfully learned through trial and error—became the seed for the book. DTC, Stevens insists, democratises entrepreneurship. It enables small, agile teams to test, learn, and connect faster than the old corporate titans ever could. But it’s no longer enough to simply build a webshop; today, genuine connection is the currency of success.

What You’ll Learn from DTC Pioneers

Throughout the book, Stevens distils common principles shared by successful brands. You’ll learn, for instance, how graze.com used customer data to fine-tune its snack boxes, operating as both a factory and a feedback loop. You’ll meet Huel founder Julian Hearn, who transformed his failed fitness app (Bodyhack) into a £100 million-nutrition powerhouse by understanding one simple truth: people crave convenience and good health, not clever marketing. From Snag tights, you’ll see how data-savvy founder Brie Read solved a problem hiding in plain sight—ill-fitting hosiery—and built a customer base that literally saved her business during a pandemic. Then, in Bloom & Wild, you’ll find how Aron Gelbard reinvented flowers through your letterbox by measuring satisfaction through the NPS (Net Promoter Score) and pioneering “thoughtful marketing” that respected customers’ emotions.

The Emotional Engine Behind Great Brands

Stevens draws a recurring conclusion from these cases: what separates the great from the good is emotional intelligence. The best founders—people like David Hieatt of Hiut Denim or Simon Griffiths of Who Gives A Crap—built missions, not mere businesses. They used DTC to serve a higher purpose: reviving a town or funding sanitation for millions. Their commitment transformed customers into a community of advocates. DTC success, Stevens reminds you, comes not from analytics alone but from empathy, authenticity, and a clear sense of why.

Innovation, Resilience, and Learning by Doing

The book doesn’t shy away from hardship. Many entrepreneurs learned through costly mistakes—Cornestone’s founder Oliver Bridge had to reinvent his razor subscription business amid aggressive U.S. competition; Sugru’s Jane Ní Dhulchaointigh risked collapse by expanding into retail before returning to her DTC roots. Each story reinforces a theme echoed by thinkers like Eric Ries (The Lean Startup): success emerges from iterative learning, not grand plans. Stevens presents DTC as both art and discipline—a space that rewards experimentation, data fluency, humility, and obsessive care for customers.

From Playbook to Philosophy

In its final chapters, The Direct to Consumer Playbook crystallizes into a philosophy of modern brand-building. The brands profiled show how community creation, rich data use, and authentic storytelling intertwine to build loyalty. DTC is portrayed as a constantly evolving ecosystem where principles matter more than tactics. As Stevens puts it, platforms like Shopify or Facebook might change—but principles like transparency, purpose, and customer joy will never go out of style. The book becomes both an inspiration and blueprint for anyone dreaming of starting or scaling a consumer brand. It tells you not just how to sell online, but why it matters: to create products with soul, serve people directly, and build movements that outlive the algorithms.

Graze.com, one of the UK’s first truly data-driven snack companies, embodies the fusion of technology and empathy that powers the DTC model. Founded by Graham Bosher (from LoveFilm) and later joined by Anthony Fletcher, graze started as an experiment to deliver healthy snacks directly to offices and homes. What made their story unique wasn’t just the subscription box—it was how they treated data as the raw ingredient of success.

Using Data to Listen

Every snack box became a feedback sensor. Customers rated each item, and graze captured millions of data points. Fletcher explains that this “performance marketing” model transformed how they made decisions—from product recipes to marketing spend. When fruit deliveries failed (customers disliked receiving soft, perishable items), the data quickly revealed the problem. Instead of clinging to assumptions, graze iterated fast, refining its product mix weekly rather than yearly.

Vertical Integration as Control

While most food startups outsource production, graze built its own factory. This was no ego play—it was about flexibility and control. Their vertically integrated operation allowed them to track every cost driver and innovate at speed. Fletcher emphasized how understanding margins and production mechanics became a creative advantage. “We used over half a billion product reviews to make better snacks.” That kind of feedback loop turned operations into innovation.

Looking Beyond the Numbers

Despite being data-obsessed, Fletcher admits that internal numbers can blind you to external realities. When expanding to the U.S., graze initially misread cultural nuances—American customers didn’t recognize British flavors like mango chutney. The lesson: internal data helps you react, but external awareness keeps you evolving. DTC brands must balance data-driven rigor with qualitative curiosity about culture and competition.

From DTC to Multichannel

Graze proved that the direct model isn’t the endpoint—it’s a foundation. After perfecting DTC, they expanded into retail with confidence, equipped with hard evidence about what customers loved. In 2019, Unilever bought Graze for a nine-figure sum, validating the idea that strong data and brand loyalty create lasting enterprise value. Fletcher’s summary: “Start online, learn fast, then go everywhere.”

Why It Matters

Graze’s story teaches you that mastering performance marketing isn’t just about metrics—it’s about listening. Data helps you hear customers whisper their opinions in numbers, but empathy transforms those signals into better experiences. Like other pioneers in Stevens’s playbook, graze invites you to treat analytics not as a cold spreadsheet but as the heartbeat of innovation. It’s a reminder that the smartest companies don’t just collect data—they cultivate trust through it.

Julian Hearn’s story with Huel shows that big ideas can start from personal dissatisfaction. After selling his voucher-code site and founding Bodyhack—a fitness app that failed to scale—Hearn realized that people wanted results without the hassle of counting calories and measuring ingredients. From that frustration came Huel: nutritionally complete meals in powdered form. But Hearn didn’t just sell a product—he created a movement around health, simplicity, and kindness.

Building Around a Problem

Bodyhack showed Hearn that most people couldn’t sustain complex fitness routines. He pivoted toward solving the deeper problem: making healthy living practical. Launching Huel in 2015 with nutritionist James Collier, he started small—setting a goal of 1,000 “true fans” buying £45 subscriptions each month. By designing packaging, pricing, and even free gifts (the Huel shaker and t-shirt) to reward loyalty, he turned customers into proud tribe members known as “Hueligans.” This tribe became both his marketing channel and feedback machine.

Culture of Niceness

Hearn etched his philosophy on the office wall: “Don’t be a dick.” It wasn’t a joke—it defined the company’s culture of empathy and excellent service. Good customer service became non-negotiable. When early delivery partners disappointed customers, he switched them immediately, even at higher cost. “Happy customers mean low acquisition costs and high lifetime value,” he explained. His people weren’t just handling inquiries—they were nurturing a tribe.

Digital First, But Human Always

Though Huel thrived on digital ads—especially Facebook’s lookalike feature—Hearn remained skeptical of offline marketing. Tube ads looked glamorous but generated no conversions. As an online brand, Huel kept its focus where customers could act instantly. Later, as the company grew international offices and launched ready-to-drink versions of its shakes, it used physical retail sparingly—as a brand awareness tool, not a profit driver. Hearn saw omnichannel not as a compromise but as smart visibility.

Values Over Channels

Today, Huel’s success—over £100 million in annual sales—shows that authenticity and purpose amplify digital reach. Hearn proved that leading with values (“be healthy, be good, be nice”) creates resilience in any channel. His story reminds you that the soul of DTC lies less in algorithms and more in human decency. You can automate many things, but not caring. Like Graze’s data-led empathy, Huel’s friendliness turned powdered meals into a global lifestyle brand.

Brie Read and Aron Gelbard built their ventures—Snag tights and Bloom & Wild flowers—by confronting a truth that most industries ignore: customers are suffering in silence. Both founders applied data science and empathy to convert frustration into love, proving that solving a real pain point beats flashy invention.

Snag: When Data Meets Humanity

Snag began when Brie Read experienced tights sliding down her legs on Edinburgh’s George Street. Her data instincts pushed her to validate the problem through a survey of 3,000 women—90% confirmed their tights never fit. That simple statistic birthed a multimillion-pound breakout brand. By setting a 25% margin allocation for marketing and using Shopify plus Facebook ads, Snag exploded organically. When COVID-19 crushed her cash flow, Read turned to Instagram, transparently explained her plight, and crowdsourced a survival solution: a prepaid two-for-one deal redeemable months later. The community’s response—not investors—saved the business.

Bloom & Wild: Caring Through Analytics

Aron Gelbard spotted a painful gap in the floristry market. Buying flowers had become frustrating: poor quality, limited choice, and missed deliveries. Using Bain & Co’s Net Promoter Score, he found floristry had some of the lowest customer happiness scores of any industry. Bloom & Wild fixed the experience by shipping “letterbox flowers”—unhydrated stems packed flat, ready to bloom at home. Customers loved the novelty and empowerment. Later, when Mother’s Day emails triggered grief for some customers, Gelbard pioneered the ‘Thoughtful Marketing Movement’—letting users opt out forever from emotional holiday campaigns. This sensitivity transformed Bloom & Wild from a flower company into a symbol of kindness.

Shared Lesson

Read and Gelbard exemplify how empathy and measurement coexist. Data can quantify dissatisfaction; compassion can convert it into loyalty. Snag used transparency and community to weather storms; Bloom & Wild used gentleness and respect to redefine email marketing. Both remind you: the best DTC innovation isn’t technological—it’s moral.

Not all growth is good. Oliver Bridge’s Cornerstone and Jane Ní Dhulchaointigh’s Sugru illustrate two sides of scaling: one navigating intense competition through discipline, the other learning that expanding too fast can break a business. Their stories warn: grow intelligently, not impulsively.

Cornerstone: Competing by Resilience

Bridge launched Cornerstone, a men’s razor subscription, from his kitchen while holding a full-time job. His hustle—driving overnight to Germany with €5,000 cash for blades—became startup legend. Early growth was spectacular until American giants like Harry’s and Dollar Shave Club invaded the UK market. Bridge adapted by adding health products, focusing on customer service, and allowing flexible subscriptions that customers could pause. Rather than chasing volume, he pursued profitability and loyalty—what he called “profitable growth.”

Sugru: When Retail Becomes a Risk

Jane Ní Dhulchaointigh invented Sugru, a moldable silicone glue that inspired a global maker community. Starting with 1,000 packs sold in six hours, she built cult momentum online. But retail temptation—listing with B&Q—proved costly. Slotting fees, marketing bills, and uncertain foot traffic nearly bankrupted the company. Crowdfunding casualties followed when small investors lost money after its sale to Tesa. Jane’s reflection was bittersweet: “We bet the farm chasing shelves.” Her new mantra—start small, stay nimble—became one of Stevens’s key rules.

The Wisdom of Restraint

Both founders remind you that DTC is a marathon, not a sprint. Bridge’s cautious omnichannel model and Ní Dhulchaointigh’s humility after overstretching illustrate that independence and focus protect brand soul. As Stevens notes, ambition should match cash flow. In DTC, velocity without control equals vulnerability.

When business aligns around a moral mission, profit becomes fuel for impact. Simon Griffiths (Who Gives A Crap) and David Hieatt (Hiut Denim) reshaped their communities and customers by putting purpose first. Their journeys show how DTC can heal not just industries, but societies.

Who Gives A Crap: Toilets as Transformation

Simon Griffiths blended humor with humanitarianism. His Melbourne startup sells recycled or bamboo toilet paper to fund sanitation access worldwide—donating 50% of profits to partner projects. The business began with a viral IndieGoGo campaign where Griffiths sat on a toilet until he raised $50,000. Amid pandemic panic buying, his company sold out in five days and donated over A$5.85 million that year. Instead of investor-exit pressure, Griffiths insisted on “patient capital”—partners willing to wait 30 years to reach the goal of universal sanitation.

Hiut Denim: Reviving a Town

When Cardigan, Wales, lost its 400-person jean factory, creative couple David and Clare Hieatt launched Hiut Denim to bring back the town’s craft heritage. Their jeans weren’t just garments—they were instruments of recovery. With DTC, they avoided retail intermediaries and connected globally through email newsletters and storytelling. Their “no wash club” and repair-for-life policy made sustainability a shared pact. The brand’s growth restored local jobs and global admiration—a modern parable of business as community revival.

Ethical Commerce as Edge

Both founders upend the stereotype that ethics dilute ambition. Griffiths demonstrated fiscal discipline while giving away half his profits; Hieatt practiced slow growth for long-term resilience. Their stories echo the legacy of Patagonia’s Yvon Chouinard and TOMS’s Blake Mycoskie: purpose isn’t charity—it’s strategy. When doing good becomes the product narrative, passion beats paid ads.

Three modern DTC brands—Heights, Ugly Drinks, and Allplants—illustrate how the latest generation of entrepreneurs fuses mental wellness, digital community, and sustainability. Each company converts authenticity into advantage.

Heights: Building Trust from Transparency

After burnout from their previous startup, founders Dan Murray-Setter and Joel Freeman created Heights, a braincare supplement brand built on scientific honesty. Their guiding value: trust as currency. Before launching products, they published educational newsletters and podcasts to cultivate credibility. The result was stunning—90% subscriber retention and a community willing to crowdfund £1 million in 20 minutes. Heights proved that content is community when done with care.

Ugly Drinks: Turning Soda into Activism

Co-founders Hugh Thomas and Joe Benn didn’t just sell fizzy water—they declared war on sugary drinks and deceptive branding. Their slogan, “The Ugly Truth,” challenged corporate spin while celebrating imperfection. With high shipping costs, Ugly used DTC as a testing ground rather than a profit center, launching limited-edition flavors like Marshmallow and Dr Ugly based on community votes. Internationally, they operated as a remote “glocal” team—global strategy, local conversation—illustrating how DTC can power omnichannel creativity.

Allplants: Freezing the Future of Food

Jonathan Petrides turned his passion for plant-based eating into allplants, Europe’s largest vegan frozen meal company. His insight: frozen food wasn’t a compromise—it was an innovation to reduce waste and increase flexibility. With B Corp principles and community ambassadors, allplants multiplied demand while keeping operations ethical. JP’s approach blends the humanitarian optimism of Muhammad Yunus and the rigor of McKinsey training: social entrepreneurship powered by world-class execution.

Unified Vision

Heights, Ugly, and Allplants share a framework for modern DTC: authenticity before advertising, education before sales, ethics before scale. In Stevens’s playbook, they represent how brands can be surprisingly human in a digital age—proof that attention follows intention.

The most recent crop of DTC ventures—Lick, Clearing, and Casper—capture both the promise and pressure of building in saturated markets. Stevens uses these stories to define a new DTC rulebook for the 2020s: invest in brand and relationships, not just ads.

Lick: Removing the Pain of Home Decor

In 2020, Lucas London and Sam Bradley launched Lick to make painting your home fun again. They curated a few perfect colors (rather than 50 shades of blue) and sold paints, wallpapers, and blinds directly to consumers and trade professionals. Recognizing that digital ads had grown overpriced, they focused on community content and partnerships (like MADE.com). Lick raised £3 million in seed funding and exemplified how modern brands must balance omnichannel reach with deep emotional equity. Their insight: “Brand is not decoration—it’s direction.”

Clearing: Digital Healing

Avi Dorfman and Dr. Jake Hascalovici founded Clearing during COVID to treat chronic pain through telehealth. With rigorous psychographic research led by Yakov Kagan, they identified a target niche—proactive women aged 45–64—and crafted a soothing brand experience through agency Red Antler. Instead of burning $6 million fast, they tested methodically before scaling. Clearing redefined telemedicine as personalized care, showing the power of precise audience understanding.

Casper: From Unicorn to Reality Check

Casper, the $1 billion “sleep startup,” pioneered the mattress-in-a-box trend but struggled after too much funding and too many competitors—175 in the U.S. alone. Co-founder Jeff Chapin admitted they spent “95% of our time running, not looking at the business model.” Casper’s saga—from cult favorite to IPO scrutiny—shows how rapid scale can outpace sustainability. Even its setbacks, though, became lessons: DTC’s first generation proved that customer experience matters more than investor hype.

The New Rulebook

Stevens summarizes the evolution this way: if early DTC was about disruption, today’s DTC is about depth. You can’t compete just on convenience—you must offer purpose, personality, and patience. Lick’s harmony, Clearing’s empathy, and Casper’s honesty outline the roadmap for the next decade of entrepreneurship. It’s not about selling directly to consumers anymore—it’s about speaking directly to humans.