I’ve never stayed in one place for too long, except when it comes to knowing who I am through style.
Growing up constantly on the move, fashion became my way of making a first impression before I even said a word. New school, new city? Cool, I’d show up in something that told my story for me.
While my mom was my ultimate style icon, she was also my blueprint for confidence, creativity, and owning your space. She taught me early that clothes weren’t just about looking good, they were armor, art, and identity. Raised in a house where Cher Horowitz and Elle Woods were both considered icons, I developed a love for contrast: polished meets punk, classic with a twist, and always a little unexpected. While my mom was mastering pin-up glam, I was raiding her closet for vintage leather, platform heels, and anything with attitude.
Then life threw me a beautiful curveball. I had my son, Finley, at 18. Everything changed, and yet, in many ways, I became even more me. Navigating motherhood while still carving out my own voice has been raw, chaotic, and powerful. Style is still how I show up for myself. Some days that looks like oversized tees and combat boots, other days it’s bold prints and black lipstick. Either way, it’s mine.
Now at 20, I’m not claiming to have it all figured out. But I am claiming my space. Loudly. Authentically. Unapologetically.
Because for me, fashion isn’t about perfection, it’s about showing the world who you are before they try to tell you who to be.