MY NATURAL ESSENCE

Around age ten, my clothes became a steady source of confidence. I remember the thrill of knee-high socks, platform sneakers, and a denim mini skirt. Walking the school halls, binder in hand, feeling like I knew who I was even as my home life was shifting with my parents’ divorce.

In middle school, my wardrobe expanded. I’d swap clothes in navy blue Gap bags with girlfriends. I experimented with feminine colors and trendy silhouettes, even while my core love stayed rooted in sporty Abercrombie & Fitch graphics, classic plaid button downs and cozy crewneck striped sweaters.

Soccer and skiing shaped my life, and my style reflected my athleticism. Looking back, there was an effortlessness I’d never quite find again. Even my hairstyle at the time- a swept-back bun with little wipsys framing my face- held a timeless innocence.

FITTING IN, STANDING OUT

By high school, the stakes shifted. Friends and crushes made me care more about how I looked—and how I fit in. My sporty styles gave way to mini dresses, strappy tanks, and sunnier colors, with foiled hair adding a brighter edge.

An hour from the nearest mall, my mom and I turned shopping into an art—hunting sale racks and spotting unique gems. Looking back, those trips taught me how to be creative and stand out in unexpected ways.

Then came the turning point: when my boyfriend left for college, I lost my anchor. Suddenly, I was untethered from the identity that had held me. I dyed my hair dark and wore moodier clothes that mirrored the heavier feelings inside. Style became more like armor, a way to keep chaos out.

Receiving the senior superlative ‘Best Dressed’ felt like proof that, even in the midst of change, the true parts of who we are always remain.

TRANSITIONS

College opened a new chapter. I found myself surrounded by students with Range Rovers and Louis Vuitton bags—symbols of wealth and possibility I’d never encountered in my small town. As a fashion major dreaming of a life in New York City someday, I wondered if maybe they knew who they were and maybe I didn’t.

Then came studying abroad in London, where I splurged on my first luxury purchase. A quilted Burberry jacket but it wasn’t classic—it was cerulean blue, floral and reversible. I like to think I chose it because it was “similar but different”, not just because it was on sale.

That jacket became a lesson in intention and craft. Even as a broke college kid washing underwear in the sink, I realized what I valued most: uniqueness, thoughtfulness, and authenticity. It planted the seed for my future in fashion.

After graduation, I moved out to San Francisco and began my merchandising career with Gap Inc., where my style called me back to my casual, preppy roots. I had resources now, but I struggled to find meaning in a closet filled with basics. Where was the me in all this?

Still, my work gave me new opportunities to explore creativity in different ways. Launching a new kids’ brand at American Eagle Outfitters was one of those moments—bringing new visibility and an opportunity to stand on my own.

THE COURAGE TO CREATE

In 2010, I started a Tumblr blog sharing outfits and inspirations. I experimented with bold statement pieces like a monogrammed Gucci hobo bag, sparkly Converse hightops, neon belts paired with denim shorts and blazers. Putting myself out there in this way felt vulnerable, but also deeply empowering.

That hunger to express myself eventually led me to launch Sweet & Spark, a vintage jewelry company born from a desire to better understand my own style—and connect with others who valued originality.

When the business ended, my closet was overflowing with pretty sweaters, luxe textures, feminine colors, and standout pieces like vintage Chanel jewelry and designer bags. I’d gotten a taste of another world, one that changed me. Little doses of charm live on in my style- a reminder of what it feels like to dream big and create something of your own.

A RETURN TO SELF

In the past few years, I’ve become a student of my own wardrobe again—taking daily outfit photos, noticing what I reach for most, and asking myself why. Style, I’ve learned, isn’t just about what looks good; it’s about how it makes us feel in our own skin.

Allison Bornstein’s three-word method helped me name what I’d been instinctively embodying all along: classic, comfort, and charm. A tucked-in white button-down, red ballet flats, and a bold gold belt buckle extend a warm invitation—“Want to connect?”—before I even have a chance to speak.

I ground myself in denim, cashmere, cotton, and linen because they feel honest and unfussy. I find strength in ribbed knits, dark neutrals, and sharp blazers when I need to stand a little taller. And I show heart in the details—a pink belt, a colorful bag, sneakers that make me smile, and a vintage diamond flower ring that reminds me: no matter what, we always bloom again.

HOME SWEET HOME

Style is a living story—woven from memories, longings, and the ways we return to ourselves. It’s noticing what feels like home, and what makes you smile for no reason at all. That’s the magic. Style is simply our way back to ourselves, again and again.