Choosing a web designer should feel like assembling a heist team, not filling in a council form. You need someone who can code without crying, design without dumping gradients everywhere, and talk like an actual human. Shockingly rare combo, I know.
Fifteen years of building sites for SMEs, startups, and that one bloke who insisted on a MIDI soundtrack later, I’ve pulled together a not-so-delicate checklist. It’s equal parts practical, sweary, and painfully honest. Read it, scribble on it, tape it to your monitor. Whatever stops you hiring the cheapest option off Fiverr because they promised “Pixel Perfect Results!!!”.
Figure Out What You Actually Need
Before you DM anyone, work out what the hell you want. A five-page marketing site? A gnarly membership platform? Something between the two? Scribble down:
- The one job your site absolutely has to perform (generate leads, sell products, make your ex jealous — whatever).
- Nice-to-haves you’re willing to bin if the budget groans.
- Current brand assets you can reuse without making your retinas twitch.
- Your deadline. Not “ASAP”, an actual date. Friday counts.
Do this and you instantly sound like a dream client. Don’t and you’ll waffle through meetings while your freelance web designer wonders if they’ve stumbled into amateur hour. Again.
Stalk Their Work Like a Proper Snoop
Portfolios are lies by omission. You’re seeing their highlight reel, not the projects that limped over the finish line at 4 a.m. Still, there’s loads you can glean if you poke hard enough.
Do their case studies include before-and-after screenshots, a pinch of metrics, and evidence of actual user thinking? Or are they just “We loved working with Sarah, she’s simply divine” fluff?
Click through to live sites. Load them on your phone, your nan’s tablet, that dusty Windows laptop. If pages load slower than my patience during scope creep, that’s all you need to know. Send yourself a note with the URL so you can rant about it later.
Interrogation Time
Yes, you’re interviewing them. No, you’re not auditioning to be the polite client of the year. Hit them with questions that expose their process, not just their Pinterest board.
- “Walk me through your strategy phase.” If they skip straight to colour palettes, run. Strategy is where user journeys, brand positioning, and content planning happen.
- “How do you handle messy feedback?” Real designers expect edits. Professionals have systems: annotated PDFs, Loom videos, weekly calls. Hobbyists sulk.
- “What happens if the scope shifts?” Listen for clear change-control processes. Vague promises = financial ambush.
- “Who’s building the thing?” Freelancers might bring in trusted developers or copywriters. Agencies will have internal teams. Either is fine. Surprises aren’t.
Bonus question: ask them to explain how they optimise Core Web Vitals without sounding like a robot. If they can’t translate the jargon, they’ll struggle to translate your brief.
Budget Chat without the British Awkwardness
Stop dodging budget talk like it’s politics at Christmas dinner. Share a range. If you genuinely have no idea, fine, but be honest and expect a reality check. Designers price based on scope, risk, and how many all-nighters they’ll need to pull. When someone tosses out a number 70% under everyone else, either they’re desperate or they haven’t grasped the brief. Neither is ideal.
Rough cheat sheet:
- £2–5k: Tight marketing site, content you provide, no fancy integrations.
- £6–12k: Custom design and build, multiple templates, smart automations.
- £15k+: Complex platforms, multi-language setups, ecommerce with bells on.
Yes, fees vary wildly. No, your cousin’s mate can’t match that quality for £800. Unless you enjoy planning future rebuilds, cough up properly.
Read the Damn Proposal
Once you’ve shortlisted one or two people, ask for proposals. And — whisper it — actually read them. A good one spells out:
- Project goals rephrased in plain English.
- Deliverables down to the nitty-gritty (page templates, style guides, training videos).
- Phases, timelines, and what they expect from you each step.
- Payment terms that don’t make HMRC cry.
If the doc reeks of buzzwords, asks you to “envision synergy”, or dodges specifics, press them for clarity. You’re not signing up for a creative trust fall.
Check How They Communicate
How fast do they reply? Are their emails coherent? Did they show up to the call on time without blaming “Zoom being weird”? You’ll be stuck together for weeks, maybe months. You want someone whose updates don’t read like outsourced ransom notes.
I give clients regular Monday updates, even if the update is “still elbow-deep in that CMS migration, send snacks.” If your freelancer vanishes for four days because they “forgot Slack was open”, you’ll age prematurely.
Call Former Clients
Testimonials are curated. References aren’t. Ask to chat with one or two previous clients and grill them gently:
- Did timelines hold up?
- How did they react when something broke?
- Would you hire them again or rather eat another Greggs vegan sausage roll?
You’ll learn more in five minutes of off-the-record gossip than three PDF case studies.
Decide Between Freelancer and Agency
Freelancer or agency isn’t the sacred question people pretend it is. Pick based on the project’s appetite for chaos.
- Freelancer perks: direct line to the creator, flexible hours, fewer meetings, serious ownership. Downsides: capacity. Drop a 250-page intranet on their lap and expect a sharp intake of breath.
- Agency perks: specialist teams, design/dev/copy under one roof, easier to scale. Downsides: the bill, the layers of account management, the “let me check with our dev lead” loop-de-loop.
I’m obviously biased. I’m a freelance web designer, I love the control, and I have a squad of trusted collaborators I can rope in for gnarlier builds. Agencies still have their place. Just don’t pretend a five-person SME site needs a 30-person studio unless you adore burning retainers.
The Contract Has to Protect You Both
Every decent designer has a contract. Read it. Twice. It should cover:
- Scope and what counts as “extra”.
- How many revisions are included before you start paying overtime rates.
- Payment milestones and late fees (because some clients “forget”).
- Ownership — you want the keys to your site on launch day, not a hostage situation.
If anything’s missing, ask for it. If they refuse to budge on reasonable tweaks, that’s a red flag bigger than Comic Sans on a luxury brand site.
Watch for the Red Flags
People love lists of red flags, so here’s mine:
- No contract or NDA “needed”.
- They brag about never missing deadlines (bullshit).
- They can start right now despite having “loads of happy clients”.
- Their own site is older than MySpace.
- You feel vaguely patronised on every call.
Trust your gut. If something feels off, it is. You’re not being dramatic; you’re saving yourself an expensive headache.
Set Up for Post Launch
Ask how they handle launch and beyond. Do they offer training videos so your marketing exec isn’t editing copy in raw HTML? Are there maintenance plans? Do they hand over documentation with passwords, hosting details, and how to reset that bloody form plugin when it kicks off?
Smart designers build in a post-launch buffer. The site breathes in the wild, you gather real-world feedback, minor tweaks happen without forty-seven change requests. That’s the sweet spot.
Wrap Your Head Around Your Role
Don’t vanish once you sign the proposal. Gather content, show up to feedback calls, make decisions in under a week. The faster you respond, the less likely the project derails. If you ghost your designer for a fortnight, don’t act stunned when deadlines slip.
Yes You Need Chemistry
Web projects are collaborative as hell. If you debate every colour choice like it’s Parliament, nothing ships. You want someone who challenges you without being a prat, understands your tone of voice, and can throw out an idea with enough swagger that you actually consider it.
When that chemistry clicks, builds feel downright easy. You’ll finish meetings buzzing instead of plotting revenge. Honestly, that’s half the job.
All right, off you go. Take this ragged checklist, pick your web ninja, and please — for the love of conversions — stop accepting “we can totally do that later” as a plan. You deserve a site that works, not a glittery placeholder.