Generation Mulligan

"I hated what golf looked like"

Malcolm Weir was supposed to be an urban planner. He'd told himself so since school: a serious career, one that paid the bills, even if he never enjoyed the idea of it. Instead, at 23, he runs Generation Mulligan from an office in Leith, with a first hire, a rail of vintage in a shop beside the 18th green at St Andrews, and a rebrand about to go live.

The plan was urban planning

He was 21, in the third year of a geography degree at the University of Glasgow, when Generation Mulligan began — "not related to golf or business or fashion at all." It was a side hustle: a few pieces picked up here and there, growing slowly alongside the essays.

The plan after graduation was always urban planning, and he never quite knew why.

"I'd always seen my career as something pretty serious. It wasn't enjoyable, but it was something that would pay the bills. I never truly enjoyed it, to be honest, and I was always hoping that something would pop up in life. You make your own luck — that's kind of what I did."

Golf had been there all along. His grandads played, his parents played, his sister plays — "she's probably better than me." He has played as long as he can remember and still struggles to break ninety. "I've never been down there with a handicap below ten, sadly. But being Scottish, it's in the blood."

A five-pound cap

The first thing he ever sold was a cap he'd bought on Depop for about a fiver, six to nine months earlier. It never fitted. "I've got a tiny head. It's probably a kid's size, to be completely honest."

It sat in his wardrobe for months. Every so often he'd look at it and think he could sell it on for a tenner.

"Then it all just kind of clicked in my head. If I can do that with this one cap, then I can do it with five to ten items. So I bought five or ten more and put them on Depop in one big bulk. That's how it started — with that one cap."

There was no supplier, no batch, no plan. Just pieces he liked, bought and sold on. Two and a half years later there are still drops every week, and there always have been.

Why vintage

Ask him why vintage and the answer comes quickly.

"I hate the fact that you go into a golf shop and every single piece of clothing looks the same. It's all plastic, it's all driven by performance, it's all stretchy, and it's all extremely expensive."

He doesn't think performance wear is the enemy. It has its place on the course. But he thinks golf lost something underneath it.

"Golf is so much more than just the game itself. There's so much culture around it, and we really lost that culture in a sea of performance trends. Vintage is the opportunity for golf to lean into its heritage, and bring back a look that can be worn off the course and on it."

Every other sport got there first. Football shirts from the nineties became a market of their own in the late 2010s; rugby, baseball and American football followed. Golf, he says, always lags a bit behind. "It made sense that golf would be next."

All in from the start

Officially, he went all in after graduating, when the choice was a postgraduate degree, a job, or the business. Really, he says, there was never a choice.

"From the moment you start, you're all in. Your pride's on the line and there's almost no looking back. At the back of my head I knew I was always going to go full time. I just needed to hit targets to convince the people around me it was a sensible decision — which I'm sure they're probably still not convinced it is."

The growth was slow, and he's glad. He has watched brands get a hundred sales overnight off one viral post and wondered what happens next.

"There's got to be loads of founders that have just been immediately out of their depth, not managed to keep swimming, and drowned. Very dramatic. But it's about making sure you've got the foundational knowledge to support it before you properly grow."

What it costs

The first thing to go was golf. He doesn't get out for a round nearly as much as he wishes he could.

Then time with family and friends. And something bigger than both: starting a business straight out of university puts your career on the line.

"If things fail, it looks terrible on your CV. You've got a failed business on Companies House, you've got no industry experience — it's the worst case you could be in. But it all comes down to the vision. If you look backwards and worry about where you are too much, you'll keep overthinking it and you'll never grow past it."

The Masters drop

There was no single breakthrough. But if he has to name the moment it felt real, it's this year's Masters drop: a full collection of Masters pieces with the stories told around them, and a campaign that took off on social media.

"That was a moment where I really felt like my direction was strong. It made me realise I can do this. I completely stretched myself to do it — which in hindsight was probably quite an unhealthy point in my life. But it made me realise I can bring people in to help me execute that times ten, and then it can grow into something bigger."

Leith, and letting go

So the last four or five months have been about growing beyond himself: an office in Leith, and a first hire. Louis is the first team member who isn't a freelancer or an agency.

Handing over the reins hasn't come easily.

"I'm a bit of a control freak, to be honest. I think all founders are. Your business is your baby, and giving a little bit of that away doesn't feel right. But you can put in as many hours as you want — you're never going to grow something without bringing people in. I'm still struggling with it. But I'm aware of it. At least I tell myself that."

The week now runs to one deadline: the drop, every Friday at four. Photography, listing, the social campaign, packaging — all of it ready by four. "It's as much for me as for the customers. It holds me accountable."

Off the screen

His proudest moments are the ones that took Generation Mulligan off the screen. Moving into the office. The first hire. And a pop-up with Paris Golf Gallery — the first time the brand existed in person, in a country where he doesn't speak the language.

Then Manors came calling. Their social team asked him to dress a short series of films, from the hickory era to modern day: Arnold Palmer in the sixties, Fred Couples in the eighties and nineties, Tiger Woods in the nineties and the 2000s, Rickie Fowler in orange in 2010, and Manors to finish. What he took away was their planning.

"Whenever I do anything on social media it's very off the cuff. They're so meticulous — the inspiration, the angles they're going to record. It's a different level."

And now there's a rail at 8 Golf Place, the golf shop beside the 18th green at St Andrews that used to be the St Andrews Golf Company. Its new owners asked him to curate a vintage rail: St Andrews pieces from the 1995 and 2000 Opens, and links golf pieces around them.

"It gives people a chance to interact with the brand in person. It's one thing running a brand online, but I just don't think it's real until you have that in-person connection."

The rebrand

The biggest thing coming is a rebrand, made with Ed and AJ at Studio Nude. It has been a long time in the works, "from my side more than anything — it's difficult to find the time." The best money he's ever spent on the business, he says.

The name stays. "If you're really attached to the name, don't worry." Everything else changes: a new logo, new colours, a new website. And the point of it is to say something he has wanted to say since the start.

"This rebrand is quite a statement in terms of saying we're not just a resale platform. We are a brand. We don't consider ourselves a Depop or a Vinted. We see ourselves as more than that."

What it leaves behind

In five years, vintage will still be at the heart of it. One day he'd love to make his own collection and work with designers. But not yet. "There's still a lot of work to be done in the vintage space."

If it all disappeared tomorrow, he'd want to have left an imprint: to have given a voice to the golfers who like the relaxed fits, the baggy trousers, the graphic sweatshirts, and to have shown brands pieces they might never have looked at.

"Hopefully Generation Mulligan can be that brand. But if we were to disappear, I'd hope other people could see what we've been building and take inspiration from it."

And if he could go back to the start, he'd tell himself to let people in sooner. Someone once told him they couldn't do what he does — build his own website, design every post himself. It was meant as a compliment. It made him realise he was in too deep.

"You're going to reach a point where you can't do everything. But honestly, you learn from making the mistakes. If I'd told myself that, I'd probably have told myself to shut up. And I wouldn't want to scare myself. Whatever I told my past self, I'd probably end up not building Generation Mulligan."

Two and a half years ago it was one cap that didn't fit, sitting in a student wardrobe. Now there's an office in Leith, a first hire, a rail beside the 18th green at St Andrews and a new brand about to go live.

The plan was always urban planning. He made his own luck instead.

Quick fire

Best money you've ever spent on the business? The rebrand.

Dream playing partner? Tiger Woods.

Best-dressed golfer of all time? Tiger Woods.

Links or parkland? Links.

Masters or Ryder Cup? "Masters, of course."

Handicap? "We're not going to talk about that."

Early riser or night owl? Night owl.

The journey so far, in one word? "Tiger."

Best piece of advice you've been given? "You've got to be able to make trade-offs to be successful."

A book worth reading? The Creative Act by Rick Rubin, and Shoe Dog by Phil Knight.

Drawn from two recorded conversations with Malcolm Weir in September and October 2026. Quotes edited for length and clarity. Images supplied by Generation Mulligan.
No payment was made or received for this interview.