My Nana intimidated me. Growing up, we would visit her apartment in Center City, Philadelphia, and as soon as we entered, I knew to go straight to the bathroom and wash my hands like a surgeon. I would come out holding them up for inspection just to prove I was clean enough to sit on her ivory silk sofa. She had that look in her eyes, that air of buttoned-up royalty about her. No matter the occasion, she looked like she had just walked out of the latest fashion magazine. Nana

Comparison can steal more than a whole day if you let it. It can really steal your life. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Not just because of social media, although that certainly doesn’t help. I think comparison starts much earlier than that. I remember, as a little girl on playdates, feeling jealous that my friend had the real Barbie and the pink car while I was stuck with the fake Barbie who had frizzy brown hair and whose feet didn’t fit into her shoes. What sa

How do you know if you're receiving a sign, or you're just hallucinating? I've asked myself that question countless times. I've always had a pretty high tolerance for uncertainty. Maybe that comes from being an entrepreneur. Maybe it's just how I'm wired. Either way, I've made some very big decisions in my life due to a very strong feeling that something bigger was trying to get my attention. Sometimes that has gone beautifully. Sometimes, not exactly. Years ago, I was dating

I’ll never forget the phone call. It was July 2022, and I had just handed in what I believed was a complete manuscript for my book. Years of work. I truly thought I was done. A few days later, my publishing manager and close friend asked me to meet him at a bookstore. He looked at me and said, “You found your voice as a writer.” I remember feeling this wave of joy and relief. Like, wait... now? It had taken years of daily writing, sending chapters, rewriting, and trying to ge

When I started my fashion career, I was a sportswear designer. That meant I designed denim, jackets, T-shirts, tops, sweaters, and everything else but dresses. I never designed a dress. It wasn’t something I thought about, and it definitely wasn’t something that I wore. I was known for designing related separates, pieces that worked together or on their own. They were trend ripe, but they weren’t throwaway. They were pieces you kept. One day, I walked into Bloomingdale's pres

In a few weeks, I’m going to visit my mom for her 90th birthday. It will be the first time all of her family will be together in one place. I keep thinking about the importance of this, how rare it is, and how lucky I am. I’ve also been reflecting on the many lessons she taught me, one of the most important coming from when I was pretty young. I was nine years old when we took a trip up to Camp Danbee in the Berkshires. It was a place founded by my grandparents in 1950, and i

When I was in middle school, I was a second-string junior varsity guard on my basketball team. My older sister was on the starting lineup of our high school varsity team. She got a lot of attention, and I wanted some of that. So the following fall, I dragged myself to tryouts to see if I could elevate my basketball game. Fifteen minutes in, I broke my right pinky finger trying to catch the ball. I walked off the court holding back tears, both embarrassed and relieved. I knew

Some of you may remember that last year I popped into your inbox and said, “I’m back.” And then… you didn’t hear from me again. What happened? Somewhere between finishing my book and trying to reconnect everything on the tech side, I may have temporarily broken Google and my email system. Not my proudest moment. But the bigger reason is simpler. What I thought was the final stretch of finishing my book took longer than I expected. A lot longer. Five years, actually. Most of y