Gemma Cairney: ‘I worked as a tequila girl — I sold it as a love potion’

Gemma Cairney, 39, has been a DJ on BBC Radio 1, 1Xtra, Radio 2 and 6 Music. She has also presented radio documentaries, the BBC’s coverage of Glastonbury and interviews “artistic minds” for the podcast Dream Space. Her non-fiction book, Open: A Toolkit for How Magic and Messed Up Life Can Be, was published in 2017 and The Immortal Sisterhood, a tribute to female artists, is due out next year, when she will be doing an accompanying live show. She is the chair of the Edinburgh Art Festival board and runs the community space Number 22 in the city. She was born in Birmingham, moved to London at the age of two and now lives in Edinburgh with her partner and newborn baby.
Instead of a wallet I wear an upcycled pink crocheted purse around my neck. Inside is my debit card and a neatly folded €50 from one of the adventures I’d go on before I was pregnant. I’d always make sure I was equipped with local currency. I have an evolving relationship with objects, tech and cards. I’d like to use cash more.
I don’t have one. I have a vision of a beautiful, efficient and ethical financial system where a credit card doesn’t feel grubby but means I can build my credit score ethically. I’ve definitely had credit cards before, though. When I was younger, I thought a credit card was the coolest thing. As soon as I turned 18 I got one and straight away bought a holiday to Greece. As I’ve grown older, I have tried to stay open to the learning of empowerment of feminist finance and not getting into debt.
I’d be a saver if my income allowed me to be. I’m really trying to be great with money but not individualise it. This year has been the most experimental and creative, career-wise. I have established roots in Scotland after being down south my whole life and am working on creative projects and leaning into bigger projects like my books, a ceramic collection and an upcoming operatic piece of theatre. This year has been financially completely different because I’m following my heart.
• Ayo Akinwolere: Mum marched me to the shop to get my first job
A telesales canvasser for a kitchen company when I was about 14. I was too young to be doing that. I used to ring people up from the phone book and try and convince them to book an appointment to have their kitchen fitted. I don’t come from a big pot of money so I knew from the beginning that if I wanted shiny knee-high boots, then I needed to go out and make money for it. Looking back, I see that communicating and connecting with people is what I do now. It all makes sense.
I own a small flat in a mid-1950s block in Margate, which I bought in 2019 for about £150,000 and I’m trying to sell. I bought my first property in Clapton in east London for £410,000 when I was 27 after saving to be on the property ladder when I was on BBC 1Xtra.
I would say yes, I am in a better position and that makes me feel very lucky and humble. My family tree is as varied as a botanical garden. It’s mixed heritage, with a total medley of different family lives and stories and relationships with money and careers.
Yeah, I get the sense everyone does. I lived independently of my parents from the age of 19 and for the next six years, I lived by the skin of my teeth. I lived in east London and ricocheted from party to party and on to fashion shoots, not prioritising nourishment or care. I was working as assistant stylist and paid cash in hand at the end of the day, anything from £50 to £200. I lived in the lounge of a flat in Brick Lane in east London so we didn’t have a communal space, and the rent was £350 a month.
I would make extra money working as a tequila girl, serving shots in the evening and weekends. It was a commission-only job, so how much I made varied wildly from night to night. I sold it as a love potion — I tried to make it romantic; I would tell people they would have a year of beautiful love if they drank a shot of tequila. I probably really needed a lentil soup and a blanket but I was robust, optimistic, hard-working and full of joy.
Less than I have in a while. I am building a new career and finding new ways of working. It’s a huge life change and, financially, a risky space to be in. I don’t mind though as I’m quite a risk-taker. Also, I am a new mum and am changing my perspective with family in mind. I am an ardent advocate for fair work so I pay collaborators a fair rate every step of the way. I have created a book and adapted it into a show and those risks have cost me money. It’s been scary but thrilling. And we are now seeking outside funding. There’s no security behind me, except for my belief in the work.
The first time I felt financially secure was when I started my first radio job and I had a regular contract and regular payslip, and could pay my rent arrears and go on holiday to Sardinia. That was the first time I felt wealthy. But the older I am, the more I associate wealth with health. Having researched and written about a number of things that are important to me, my family lineage being Jamaican and Scottish, and thinking about the world as it is, and what wealth means, I have really adapted my understanding of what wealth is, and it’s not just money.
• Paul Atterbury: ‘The rich have money because they are very mean’
I’m a shareholder in an initiative called Sister Midnight, a community music venue in south London. When I saw their crowdfunding campaign I thought about my younger self — in my twenties I turned every stone in London to find a space that was safe, where myself and my community could put on events and create a foundation of coming together so I felt I wanted to contribute to an idea so smartly executed. I’m fascinated by the Doughnut Economy theorised by the economist Kate Raworth. It is the idea that a growing GDP shouldn’t be our obsession, but relative sustainability. So if I bought shares again I think it would always be in grassroots initiatives.
I’d like readers to let me know. Answers on a postcard, please. I’ve no idea. I don’t have a pension.
The creation of my next book, The Immortal Sisterhood, and the show version of the book, which will debut in New York next year. It’s been a huge labour but it has given me a wealth of health.
I bought a repossessed flat as I thought it was a great bargain but it was a bit like a slightly regretful love affair. The vibes were bad and it spiralled into a nightmare. It seemed like it had so much potential but I should have done more research. I learnt a lot from it.
Travel. I’m not a luxury traveller but I am a bold traveller. I go far and do spend money on prioritising safety as I sometimes travel alone and am potentially vulnerable. I make sure I am not reckless. For example, I have no qualms about getting a taxi and moving to a safer place even if it’s out of my budget. My idea of dream travel is throwing my phone in the sea.
This is relative, depending on what you see as extravagant. For example, I see movement, celebration, journeys and culture as necessity so prioritise saving for trips and parties but others don’t. So I would say investing in myself, my own creative projects, and working on my own terms. Although it probably would have been better for me, business-wise, to go down the well-trodden path of commercialism, I have lived following my gut.
I’d definitely buy some beautiful land and join or create a beautiful intentional community where I’d grow food and bring in people to make pizza. There would be an outdoor kitchen. It could be an interesting experience. I think lots of ideas could grow and develop there because of the people I love and meet. Also, I’m really interested in transport — I own a yellow bus called Dandelion that’s in storage in Scotland. I would like to get trains all over the world and organise parties on them. I would invest in more art, have acupuncture fortnightly and build saunas.
That we should think of money as a tool of empowerment; it’s so much more than money.
The Immortal Sisterhood is due out in September 2025. The live show will be at the Lincoln Center, New York, in January, theimmortalsisterhood.live