Angélique Van Gils

The through-line

Everything Angélique Van Gils says circles back to a single test: does the work still match the reason you are doing it. She left an established family business the moment the answer turned negative, and her formulation of the moment is blunt: "Ik was gewoon mijn why kwijt." [1] Her rule is that if you no longer wake up with your 'why', no salary, no team and no title can compensate for it [3]. Around that core sits a second, harder-won preoccupation: the family firm and the money must be governed by written rules, agreed while everyone is still enthusiastic, because enthusiasm is exactly what makes people forget the exit scenarios [2][3].

The shift over time is one of scale and temperament. Having run a company as Managing Director and sold shares twice, she now describes herself as barely started: "Ik heb heel vaak een lintmeter... die gaat meestal tot 150 cm en ik vind mijn bedrijf staat nu nog maar op 1 cm." [1] The ambition has not shrunk, but the appetite for growth at any price has. Where the family brand "grew itself to death" [1], she now talks about costs, margins and one market.

On following your 'why'

The trigger for leaving the family business in 2020 was not conflict over money but the disappearance of the reason to get up [3]. She treats this as a general rule rather than a personal quirk: many people stay in a family business because it is expected of them, and the corrective is honesty with yourself, since "Er is maar één persoon waar je heel trouw aan bent in je leven en dat is jezelf." [3] The same logic applies to how a leader carries others with her. Vision is not a document but a light you point: "Je visie is eigenlijk je koplamp op je voorhoofd... op het moment dat ik mijn koplamp niet deel kan jij nooit zien wat ik zie." [1] Direction matters more than precision about the destination, because entrepreneurship is "echt wel gewoon focus vooruit, af en toe je doel wel links of rechts bijstellen, maar blijven gaan." [3]

On family, partnership and the 'what if'

Her strongest practical advice is to write the awkward scenarios down first. Family cofounders should formalise 'what if' clauses in the way people make prenuptial agreements, precisely because the initial enthusiasm crowds out any thought of an exit [2]. She applied this to herself: founding with her own two daughters, they put shareholder agreements including exit scenarios in place from day one [3]. The lesson came from its opposite. When she changed roles while remaining a shareholder at Café Costume and joining competitor The Makers, she had not thought the conflicting interests through in advance, and took from it the rule that exit and valuation terms belong on paper before problems arrive [1].

On partnership structure she is specific: a trio works, because with three shareholders you can always break a deadlock, provided each partner brings a distinct identity and talent [1]. And the way you separate matters as much as the terms. Her second share sale, negotiated directly and with attention to the soft, emotional side, cost far less stress than the first and left the family relationship intact [1]. The same instinct governed her exit as Managing Director. Once you feel the shareholders no longer stand behind you the role is untenable, because they own the company and their vision ultimately counts, so she resigned to protect family relations [1].

On keeping mother and entrepreneur apart

The boundary between roles is handled physically rather than by good intentions. She wears a bracelet made from a tape measure and takes it off at home, switching from entrepreneur to mother, which keeps the professional and the private relationship with her daughters distinct [2][3].

On growth that outruns its financing

The founding trauma of her thinking is the 1992 forced sale of the family brand, which "grew itself to death": international expansion and scale outpaced the financing behind them, an arc she reads directly into Nike's Shoe Dog story [1]. The conclusion is that fast growth without matching financing kills companies [1]. She has lived the modern version too. After a fastest-grower award and a hiring round, the war in Ukraine and energy costs forced a retrenchment onto costs, margins and a single market, Antwerp, which led her to the view that awards for fast growth reward the wrong behaviour [1].

On starting again at zero

Restarting from scratch after leading an established company is brutal, and she does not soften it: from a comfortable MD salary to nothing, with the earliest stretch as the worst of it, because "Van nul naar 1 miljoen is de heavy lifting." [1] She is equally direct about what entrepreneurship is not: "Elke ondernemer die echt onderneemt weet dat het niet alleen maar de bling bling is." [1]

On resilience and the use of a crisis

Her mindset material is consistent and unsentimental. "Wat doe je nadat je van je paard valt? ... Terug erop en doorgaan." [1] "Ervaring is wat je krijgt nadat je het nodig had." [1] "Het concert des levens heeft geen program." [1] The proportions she works with are "10% is wat je overkomt en 90% is hoe je ermee omgaat" [3], the disposition is "Het is heel fijn om naar het halfvolle glas te kijken en niet naar het halflege" [3], and the operating instruction is "Never waste a good crisis." [3] She has an example of her own: COVID accelerated the launch of Pursuit Femmes, since closed Belgium-Netherlands borders pushed them to start from her garden house in Essen and work appointment-only, which happened to fit the restrictions [3]. Alongside all this she rates outside support highly: "De kracht van het netwerk is extreem." [3]

On made-to-measure against fast fashion

Pursuit Femmes is positioned as the inverse of fast fashion. Producing only after the customer has chosen means no overproduction and garments that stay in use longer [3]. The craft argument is made visible rather than claimed: she hung a print carrying the signatures of 1,200 workers at the factory entrance, so everyone passing is reminded that a suit is not made at the push of a button but by the craftsmanship of real people, every day [3]. The brand she started with her two daughters exists to dress entrepreneurial women [1], and her line for them is "Don't be a lady, be a legend." [3]

On her own weak spot

She names enthusiasm as her biggest pitfall: saying yes too quickly, then having to backtrack once she has actually thought it through, and disappointing people in the process [3].

Takeaways

• Use the 'why' test to decide whether to stay: if you no longer wake up with it, no salary, team or position compensates [3].
• Write exit and valuation rules before there is a problem, and formalise 'what if' scenarios with family cofounders the way people make prenuptial agreements, because early enthusiasm makes everyone skip them [1][2][3].
• Prefer three shareholders to two so deadlocks can always be broken, and make sure each partner has a distinct identity and talent [1].
• Match financing to growth or the growth will kill you, as it did the family brand that "grew itself to death"; treat fastest-grower awards as rewarding the wrong behaviour [1].
• Negotiate a share sale directly and handle the emotional side deliberately; it costs less stress and can preserve the family relationship [1].
• Share the vision explicitly, because "op het moment dat ik mijn koplamp niet deel kan jij nooit zien wat ik zie" [1].
• Use a physical ritual, such as removing a tape-measure bracelet at home, to switch cleanly between entrepreneur and mother [2][3].
• Expect the 0-to-1-million phase to be the heaviest lifting, including going from an MD salary to zero [1].