About Us

We Need to Talk About the Club.

Don't worry. This isn't an intervention. Although, if you've spiralled onto an About page at 2am, we see you.

It Started With a Panic Attack.

Not metaphorically. An actual, heart-racing, convinced-I-was-dying, sat-on-the-bathroom-floor panic attack.

The kind where you're simultaneously certain something is catastrophically wrong and also deeply aware that you're probably fine and that awareness somehow makes it worse.

Sound familiar?

If it does — welcome. You're exactly who Panic Club is for.

If it doesn't — statistically, you're still who Panic Club is for. You just haven't had that particular Tuesday yet.

Here's the Thing Nobody Tells You.

Anxiety is the world's worst-kept secret.

It's in the boardroom and the school run. It's in the group chat where everyone says they're fine and nobody is. It's in the person next to you on the tube who looks completely calm and is internally composing their own obituary because they think they left the oven on.

It visits CEOs and checkout workers. Teenagers and grandparents. People having the best year of their life and people barely getting through the week. It doesn't care about your job title, your income, your follower count, or whether you've been meditating like you said you would.

Anxiety does not RSVP. It just shows up, helps itself to your nervous system, and rearranges all the furniture in your head at 3am.

And for a long time, a lot of us walked around pretending it wasn't happening.

So We Made a T-Shirt.

Because what else do you do?

Panic Club started as a simple, slightly unhinged idea — what if the thing we were all quietly embarrassed about became something we wore out loud? What if the language of anxiety, the racing thoughts, the catastrophising, the "I'm fine" when you are absolutely not fine, became something that made people laugh instead of hide?

Not because anxiety is a joke. It isn't.

But because laughter is one of the few things that makes the chaos inside your head a little more bearable. Because finding someone else who gets it — really gets it — is one of the best feelings there is. And because sometimes a stranger reading your t-shirt, snorting, and saying "same" is worth more than six months of pretending everything's okay.

That's what we're here for.

What Panic Club Actually Is.

It's a clothing brand, yes. We make apparel — tees, hoodies, and more — that wear your anxiety so you don't have to explain it. Stuff you actually want to put on your body, made properly, designed to last longer than your current spiral.

But more than that, it's a reminder.

A reminder that you are not the only one. That the thing you've been quietly carrying is something millions of people are quietly carrying too. That you are not broken, dramatic, weak, or too much. That anxiety is not a personality flaw — it's just part of being human. A deeply inconvenient, occasionally debilitating, weirdly universal part of being human.

You didn't apply for membership. None of us did.

But you're here. We're here. Might as well be comfortable.

A Note on the Serious Stuff.

We use humour because humour is how a lot of us cope, and there's nothing wrong with that.

But we also know that for some people, anxiety is genuinely hard. Not "haha I'm such a worrier" hard — actually, significantly, life-affecting hard. And if that's where you are right now, we see that too.

Panic Club is not a substitute for support. If you're struggling, please talk to someone — a friend, a GP, or a mental health service. You deserve actual help, not just a good t-shirt.

(Although a good t-shirt doesn't hurt.)

The Small Print.

We're a small brand with a big belief — that nobody should feel alone in their own head.

We make things we're proud of. We say things we mean. We don't take ourselves too seriously, but we take the people who wear our stuff very seriously indeed.

That's it. That's the whole story.

Well — that, and the bathroom floor.

Welcome to Panic Club. You're going to be fine.