“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Shakespeare clearly never had to choose a firm name.
When I decided to start my own firm, I was confronted with the same question that has apparently stumped the legal profession for centuries. Do a Google search for law firms in any city and you’ll notice that lawyers, as a group, tend to follow the same formula. The naming convention has barely evolved since the first shingle was hung: surnames, an ampersand, more surnames. Repeat as necessary. I could have gone that route. But I’d spent nearly a decade becoming genuinely expert in a niche area of law, and the idea of hanging out a sign that just said “Couper” felt like stepping on my grandad’s toes.
So I went looking for something better.
I studied French and Linguistics at university before I came anywhere near a law degree, and the history of the English language has been a minor obsession ever since. The fact that the language we use every day is basically a Viking and Norman French pile-up onto an Anglo-Saxon base, with bits of Latin thrown in for good measure: I find this genuinely delightful. Most people don’t. This is something I’ve accepted about myself.
It sent me down a rabbit hole of historical and obsolete English vocabulary, which is a very pleasant place to spend an afternoon, for a nerd like me. I was looking for something precise: something that actually described what we do, but that felt different enough to make people pause.
The answer came in two Middle English words.
Prest, meaning ‘lending’ or ‘to lend.’ Its origins are in Old French prester, which made its way into medieval English to describe the advancing of funds. Exactly what our lender clients do every day. It felt right to include a word with French roots at the centre of my Australian law firm, given my love of the French language.
Ken, meaning ‘knowledge’ or ‘to know.’ Still alive in Scots English, and not entirely unfamiliar to me, as my grandmother was Scottish. It carries with it a sense of understanding earned through experience, not just acquired from a textbook.
Together: Prestken. Lending knowledge. Which is, precisely, what we do.
Is it conventional? No. Will some people need to ask what it means? Yes, and that’s part of the point. I didn’t come to law late, after an arts degree and years teaching English as a foreign language in Sydney and São Paulo, to build a firm that looked exactly like every other firm. I wanted a name for people who are a bit curious: clients who’d be intrigued by something slightly unexpected rather than reassured by something safe and beige.
The name reflects how I want to practise: with genuine expertise, without the corporate performance that sometimes passes for it. Close client relationships. Clear answers. No unnecessary mystification of what is, at its core, a service business.
So, what’s in a name? In this case, about nine centuries of English language history, a French etymological thread, and a fairly accurate description of the job. Not bad for six letters and a mild obsession with dead words.
Shakespeare was probably right about roses. But for a law firm, I think a name that actually means something smells considerably sweeter.