Fashion and makeup

My mum told me that I should make sure to look presentable with makeup and work appropriate attire when going to the office. In her mind, the attire consists of fashionable jackets, blazers, collared shirts and work dresses.

My boss, also the company co-founder, wears the same company hoodie or t-shirt depending on the weather to client events.

Between her explicit instruction and his implicit permission, I found space to write my own dress code.

Realising that wearing makeup to work felt more and more like a laborious chore, I decided to stop doing it altogether one day. At first, I was worried the disparity between how I looked with makeup and without was too drastic that it would shock my colleagues. But eventually my truth was more compelling than this fear, the truth being I was too lazy. My colleagues probably did notice but I imagine they forgot over time, and eventually me without makeup became the norm.

I remember telling my mum about the girls in the other private office on our floor—how they were always dressed so fashionably. I said it casually, just an observation I thought she’d enjoy. Later, when she was visiting London and saw me heading to work in neat but plain loungewear, she was puzzled at why I wouldn’t wear something more fashionable. She said that it was good I didn’t work for the other company because I’d be judged or wouldn't fit in.

She did not intend to be cruel, it was just her way of naming what she saw. But something inside me stayed rooted. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t argue. I just rested in my conviction. I understood, in that moment, that her words were from her lens of the world, and I was allowed to see and choose differently. I was living by values I had chosen, not inherited. That didn’t make hers wrong. It just meant they weren’t mine anymore.

Quietly confident in my choices

Most of my life, I’ve had people tell me I seem sure of myself. That I walk through life with conviction, clarity. While that is true on the outside, it hasn’t always been easy to live it on the inside. Ask Alex and he’ll tell you how often I change my mind.

For most of my life, I’ve wrestled with the tension between how I wanted to do things and how I’d been told I should. The conflict brewed in familiar stages: confusion, denial, defiance, grief. Wanting to live in my own rhythm but still feeling the pull of what others expected of me. The pressure of what would look “correct,” or “put together,” or “impressive.”

But lately, something has shifted. Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s IFS, or a loving relationship, or spiritual work. Maybe it’s just that I’ve made scary choices enough times to see it still work out.

The cool thing is even though the self-belief is the strongest it has been, it is no longer loud. It doesn’t need to be.

Now it shows up as a quiet companion radiating my truth. No need to be seen, no need to be proven.

Truth with dress and choices

I gave away a beautiful pair of silver boots the other day. My old self would’ve found reasons to keep them. She would have said, just in case, or for the photo, or because I’d spent money buying them. But the boots had a thin heel that wasn’t ever comfortable and I decided I didn’t want to wear shoes like that anymore. I still like fashion, I’ll still have crazy outfits for Burning Man but now I prioritise comfort and minimalism over style.

I choose fabrics that breathe and stretch. Dresses that make me feel like I can move, not pose.

I pay extra for direct flights, even when the savings are tempting. I bought a foldable bike that costs nine times what a normal one would—because it’s light, easy, and doesn’t make me dread the stairs.

These are all quiet votes for a life I want to live. A life that feels like me.

Truth with time and money

Last month, Alex and I found out that Krishna Das was hosting a retreat on the exact day with land in New York. All we needed to do was rent a car to get there. It was expensive but we decided to go. I’d have doubted whether this was the right way to use my money in the past but the retreat was phenomenal. The moment we arrived, I knew it was the right choice and watching myself make a choice I was scared to make yet seeing that it was the right one really shifted my perspective on my relationship to money.

This year I have decided I want to build art for Burning Man. I did not know about the honoraria grant in time to apply (and it is extremely competitive even if I did) so it means I have to fund the build myself. It won’t be cheap, a few thousand just for the art at least, and just going to Burning Man already demands a lot. In normal societal ways of seeing things, I don’t get anything out building the art either. People don’t get it, it sounds foolish to them but it makes perfect sense to me. Building art for Burning Man is a big dream of mine, and I have everything to make it happen this year so I am going to do it.

The energy of quiet knowing

I used to be one of those people who is loud and take up the whole room. I was also drawn to others who were brimming with energy, ideas and motion. Now I see myself drawn to others who live in the quiet yet powerful self-knowing in line with my own unfolding.

Despite this chapter being the most offline, seemingly uneventful, steady and silent transformation, this is the most powerful and truthful it has been.