As 2024 comes to a close, I've taken some time to reflect on the things I've learned over the last year. Some have been percolating in my head for some time, while others dawned on me as I wrote this. This year was challenging in a lot of ways. I had friendships end, and new ones start. I felt sad and confused but also hopeful and excited. Like most years, 2024 was a mix of good and bad experiences, each teaching me something new about myself. Here are some:
I'll probably always feel embarrassed, and that's okay.
In my very first newsletter, I talked about feeling shame over just about everything I do. An anxious mind mixed with inherent shyness has led me to overthink every look shared with a stranger, every word spoken in front of a crowd, and every decision made or not made. Starting this newsletter was a way of practicing getting over these feelings and putting myself out there. It's worked some, but I still find myself white-knuckling through every click of the "publish" button. Even amongst friends, it takes a lot for me to open up. It's not that I don't trust other people or that I'm hiding a big, dark secret. It's simply that the thought of being known scares me.
But as I've gotten older, I've become more of a "slowly but surely" type of sharer, dropping bits of information that add to my lore. In reality, I love getting to know people and consider it the highest compliment when they tell me their stories, no matter how silly or serious. I guess I just haven't learned how to do the same. But I'm finally in a place where I trust that everyone in my life is here for the right reasons and that they'll always choose to see the best in me. I no longer have paranoid thoughts of someone wishing for my downfall or feel the need to keep my plans secret so they won't fall through. Sharing, as difficult as it can be, becomes easier when you know you won't be judged or dismissed for what you say.
Friendships end sometimes, and I have to learn how to live with it.
One of my best friends of 15 years and I ended our friendship around this time last year, and I'm still as confused and disheartened as I was back then. After a series of miscommunications in the form of passive-aggressive texts and roundabout arguments, it became clear that the bond we shared, one that had been so strong and genuine, was broken. It was like a switch flipped overnight, and the person I'd once wholly trusted suddenly became a stranger. Blaming and finger-pointing in this situation would be a slap to the face to someone who was such an integral part of my life. We saw each other grow up from little girls to teenagers to young women. It was a privilege to be part of someone's world in such an intimate way, and I still don't know if I'll experience something like that again.
What I do know is that, for whatever reason, it had to end. Whether it could have been prevented or if one of us was more responsible than the other can be debated for days. But the simple truth is that sometimes people leave each other's lives, and we have to try our best to come to terms with it. It's even harder when there are no clear answers or resolutions, causing the emotions of something that has already happened to linger.
But holding on to what is not meant to stay is just another way of self-inflicting pain. Love, even (and especially) in friendships, is about relatedness. It's about seeing yourself in another person, letting them see you too, and rejoicing in the decision to choose each other. But when that feeling is no longer shared, whether by one or both parties, the right thing to do is say goodbye. Over the last year, I've been lucky to meet kind, honest, and generous people. And though nothing has felt like that very first friend I made as a little girl, I find comfort in knowing that the people close to me are the ones I've chosen to share my life with, and what a privilege it is to be chosen back.
It's all about luck.
One of the toughest pills to swallow is that no matter how high your GPA is, how many internships you've done, or how impressive your resume is, it all means nothing if you don't know the right people. Merit has little value in a world where nepotism and charisma triumph any academic or professional achievement. Since graduating college over a year ago, I've experienced the frustration of knowing that although I did everything "right," not having connections is enough to earn me rejection emails from every job I apply to. This disappointment is compounded by the fact that it is nearly impossible to get paid a livable wage in New York City to write or do anything remotely creative.
My luck only turned in the last few months when one of my good friends, who I'd met through an unpaid fashion internship, recommended me to work at a film festival. Through that job, I met other people, now friends, who helped me get more work. Through this experience, I realized that sending an application is essentially useless, and it's knowing and impressing the right people that gets you further ahead. This is infuriating for those of us who followed the advice of our teachers and parents who told us how important it was to get a good education, and now have little to show for it except thousands of dollars in student loans. But at a certain point, you realize that to move ahead, you either need to play the hustle game or pray that your luck brings you to the right people in the right places--but I suspect it takes a little bit of both.
Having a crush is fun until it isn't.
Remember when I said that I struggle with feeling embarrassed? Well, this is only overshadowed by the giddiness I feel when I have a crush. Instead of being overly critical of myself, I acquire this playful, aloof persona, and all of a sudden, flirting is all I wanna do. Having a crush is best in a school/workplace setting because it adds a little excitement to what would otherwise be a dull day. You have countless opportunities to share little looks and smiles with each other while giving off a "will they, won't they" vibe to everyone else. And when the day is over, you can go home without any repercussions and daydream about what will happen next.
However, a crush stops being fun when things get a little too real or become obvious to one too many people. The key to keeping things lighthearted is maintaining your interest in the other person to only a selected few, ensuring that nothing is taken too seriously. But when someone lets something slip and people come asking questions, the carefree bubble you've been living in bursts, and you're forced to either confirm, deny, or dismiss any allegations.
After that, it's nearly impossible to return to the cute and flirty interactions from before your crush became public knowledge. A version of this happened to me recently, and it was such a disappointment. For weeks, it was the idyllic work crush situation with an expiration date until probing questions from others made the other person stop playing along. Boring! Next time, I'll take my own advice and keep my mouth shut.
I want a wedding, not a marriage.
My best friend since childhood has been with her boyfriend for almost a year and they are a good coupleā¢. Their personalities complement each other, they talk through even the smallest of problems, and spend almost all of their time together. They've even reached the milestone of meeting each other's family, a test they both passed with flying colors. As a best friend, it's my duty to pick apart the person my best friend chooses to be with. From finding his profile on every social media platform to accessing his voting record (it's public info!), I did my due diligence and made sure that this was someone worthy of her time and attention. And though I still believe that no one is good enough for my perfect angel of a friend, I have to admit that her boyfriend comes close.
But as lovely as her relationship is, it in no way inspires me to make an effort to acquire one of my own. Quite the opposite, actually. It has made me realize that I am not emotionally mature enough to sustain a relationship with anyone. I can barely have a heart-to-heart with my closest friends, let alone someone who's supposed to be my partner. Crushes are one thing, but making permanent space for someone in my life is another. The thought of discussing the reasons behind my decisions or giving a rundown of all of my trauma sounds exhausting and something I want no part of.
If I've learned anything from watching my best friend merge her life with another person, it's that relationships are a lot of work and a constant analysis of whether it's worth it to continue with those efforts. It's scary, frustrating, and difficult but also fun, comforting, and rewarding to know that someone gets up every morning choosing you the same way you do them. And until I find a person worthy of pouring that energy into, I'll keep pinning wedding inspo to my Pinterest board instead.
I'm not good with money.
I've never considered myself a disciplined person, and I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I didn't do sports growing up. My mom signed me up for karate classes when I was five, and after getting kicked in the face by the instructor during a demonstration, I never went back. In high school, when my friends were doing soccer, cheerleading, and rugby, I was in rosary club. The one time I tried joining track and field (because how hard can it be to run?) I sprained my ankle. All of these failed attempts at athleticism denied me the opportunity to practice discipline, restraint, and accountability. Though I've learned to apply these traits in other situations, I've also lacked them in others, one being when it comes to money.
I wouldn't say that I have a shopping addiction or live above my means, but I have been known to make a reckless purchase here and there. For example, spending $10 at Starbucks when I can have free (and better) coffee at home. Or going into Target for shampoo and leaving with a mug, cat toys, and another mom sweater. While this has made me frustrated at myself in the past, it's never really been a problem until now. It turns out that a long-term commitment, like going to grad school in another country, requires saving money and isn't something that will "work itself out on its own."
For someone who didn't grow up with money, you'd think I'd be a lot better at not spending it, especially when I have so many ambitious (and expensive) plans for my future. But I've surely proven that theory wrong with how often I've carelessly tapped my card in the few recent months. So as a New Year's resolution, I'm asking my friends not to invite me out to things unless they're under $30 or, preferably, free. Welcome to the start of my frugal era.
Being well dressed is important.
I can still remember how nervous I was the night before starting my fashion internship. I was scrolling through the company's LinkedIn and stalking the profiles of their past interns. They were all white girls from big southern universities who were part of sororities and vacationed in Europe every summer. So basically, my complete opposite. I was never one to feel intimidated by other people or the things they had that I didn't, but I knew that starting this internship would mean being part of a world I knew nothing about. Although I'd always loved fashion and the world of celebrity, I didn't own anything designer or have connections to influential people. I didn't attend an Ivy League school or have family friends who could get me good jobs with little experience. In more ways than one, I felt out of place and totally unprepared for what I was about to experience. The only thing I thought could give me a semblance of control was my outfit.
I wore a long black satin pleated skirt with a black crop top and cardigan, a brown leather jacket, leather platform boots, and a bag I bought at Marshall's for $20. It was comfortable, cute, and, most importantly, all-black to match the PR fashion girl aesthetic. When I showed up at the company's tiny fourth-floor office in Flatiron the following day, I expected to compete with similar versions of my outfit, only that theirs would cost a couple hundred dollars more. Instead, I was welcomed by tired-looking assistants in yoga pants and crewnecks.
Frankly, I was disappointed. I had built up this whole fantasy of the creme of the crop-level fashion I would be privy to every day. I replayed that scene in Devil Wears Prada where Andie gets a makeover a million times in my head, expecting some version of it to be my reality. But what I got was quite the opposite. Yes, we dressed people in gorgeous clothes and had racks filled with dresses that took weeks to make and cost thousands, but that's about where the glamour ended. Most of my days were spent running errands for people who frankly didn't want to be there, a sentiment which showed through their attitudes and how they dressed.
In a way, it filled me with a silent power, knowing that I was performing my role of a fashion intern better than the people who were supposed to have certain advantages over me. Although my budget stayed the same, my ability to piece together a look sent the message I intended: I have something you can't take away from me. Maybe that sounds mean-spirited, but my appearance made me stand out in rooms where I otherwise would have been ignored. I was a minority in every sense of the word, and my clothes were an opportunity to acquire power, even if it was only temporary.
In those moments, my intentions weren't to manipulate per se, but to assert my place in a world I wasn't sure I belonged in. Even now that I no longer work in fashion, I still use clothes for the same purpose. Although my environment is a lot healthier, people still make assumptions about me based on how I look, as is human nature. But fashion helps bend people's perception of me towards how I want them to see me. Is it manipulative? Sure. But until everyone is given an equal chance no matter their social status, it'll have to do.
Being late (fashionably or otherwise) isn't cool.
I've always been of the opinion that I'd rather make someone wait than wait for them. Nothing is worse than being somewhere alone, counting the seconds until the other person shows up. You pretend to look at your phone, pick at your cuticles, and look around periodically to make sure no one is looking at you. I can feel the anxiety growing in my chest just thinking about it. So you would think I would show other people the courtesy of not making them go through that exact situation. But whether it's overconfidence in my time management skills or simply being unprepared, I always find myself running just a tiny bit behind schedule.
Recently though, I met someone who supersedes me as the "late friend." At first, it was no big deal. Ha ha no worries! Better late than never. Until 10 minutes behind schedule turned into 15, then 30, then an hour. Suddenly, all the times I've made my friends wait flashed before my eyes, and I realized that this was my karma for all my years of lateness. I was finally getting a taste of my own medicine.
Making someone wait for you longer than 10 minutes, road accidents and unprecedented circumstances aside, is rude. Fashionably late applies to entering a party dressed fabulously with a gift in hand. Being half an hour late to lunch with a friend, on the other hand, is inconsiderate of their time. That's why one of my resolutions this year will be to be early, if not exactly on time, to whatever dinner, meeting, or event my presence is required, and hopefully my karma will take a turn for the better. And to the friends I've put in this predicament, please accept my sincere apologies <3
Though there are still so many uncertainties in my life, I feel an overall sense of wholeness, like I've laid a good foundation and am finally ready to move forward. I don't know what 2025 will bring, and God knows there is so much chaos in the world and so much to fear. But I hope that by getting closer to our best selves and caring for each other, we can make something good out of it.
Happy new year.
looking forward to picking up bits of your lore in the years to come!