I’m Not Who You Think I Am

If you’d asked me as a kid what I wanted to be when I grew up, I’d have said a designer—no hesitation, no second thoughts. But if I’m honest? I had no idea what being a “designer” actually meant back then. I just knew I wanted to create things that made people feel special, like they were holding something no one else had. Fast forward to me sitting in my room, glued to Clueless, watching Cher and Dee whip up the most ridiculous yet iconic idea—a muff purse. You know, a hand warmer that doubles as a bag. Turns out, muffs were the thing back in the 16th century, but these two queens made them fresh, cool, and totally desirable again.

That scene? It hit me like a bolt of lightning. Suddenly, I got it. Designing wasn’t just about creating—it was about reimagining. It was about taking something that existed and spinning it into something that felt new, unique, and totally irresistible. Watching their classmates obsess over those muff purses was all I needed to think, Yeah, that’s what I want to do. I want to make people feel that spark, that need to own something because it’s not just a product; it’s a vibe, a personality, a statement.

Fast forward to now, and here I am—technically a designer, but still struggling to say it out loud. Do you know that feeling where you’re doing the thing, but deep down you’re like, Am I actually good at this? Or is everyone around me just being polite? That’s me. All the time. Even when I nail something, I’m already onto the next worry, the next challenge. It’s exhausting, but hey, isn’t that the life of every creative?

Designing isn’t glamorous. Forget the perfectly curated Instagram posts or the red-carpet runways; the reality is rejection emails and endless questioning. Like, have you ever poured your soul into something, only to find out someone else got the job or that they didn’t even bother to reply? It stings. Worse, it feeds the imposter syndrome that’s already screaming in your head, You’re not enough.

But here’s the thing: I don’t stop. I can’t stop. I don’t have the luxury of wallowing because if I don’t move, I’m stuck. So, I dig in—more research, more sketches, more late nights chasing inspiration. Hell, even writing this blog is part of that process. It’s like therapy for me—laying it all out, reflecting on the chaos, and finding clarity in the mess.

And when inspiration finally hits? Oh, it’s pure magic. That moment where all the late nights and caffeine-fueled scribbles make sense. For me, that spark often comes from the research phase—diving into trends, fabrics, or stories that practically beg to be transformed into something real. It’s my favourite part of the job, honestly, because it’s where the soul of the work begins. And maybe, just maybe, sharing these words here will spark something in you too. Let's turn the chaos into something brilliant—together.

Not every design is a win, though. Some pieces flop—hard. And that’s when the peanut gallery comes out in full force. Everyone has an opinion. It’s good, it’s bad, it’s meh. But here’s a little secret: design isn’t about being good or bad. It’s about connection. A piece might not be for you, but it could be everything for someone else. That’s the challenge—and the joy.

These days, I approach things differently than when I first started. Back then, I thought every piece had to reflect me. Now I get that it’s not about me at all—it’s about the customer. Designing isn’t some self-indulgent art project; it’s a conversation. I’m creating for people, to fit their lives, their stories, their personalities. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t wear what I design; it just means I don’t have to.

And yet, there’s still a part of me that wrestles with never feeling like it’s enough. I’ve had moments I should’ve celebrated—big wins, moments that meant something—but instead, I brushed them off and thought, What’s next? It’s the curse of being in this industry, of always feeling like you’re running to catch up with someone better, faster, or more innovative.

But here’s what I’ve learned: you are enough. Even if the world doesn’t always tell you so, you have to remind yourself. There’s always going to be jealousy, competition, and that person who tears down your ideas just because they can’t handle your shine. And guess what? That person is actually showing you how enough you are, how important, and how bright your light truly is. If they’re paying that much attention to what you’re doing, it’s for a reason—because you’re doing something worth noticing. I’ve learned to build a bit of armour—to protect that soft, creative part of me that just wants to make things, but that doesn’t mean you have to be cold or detached. In fact, the best designs come from emotion, from staying connected to that part of yourself that’s raw and vulnerable. Even if that means sitting in the uncertainty of it all, wondering if you’re on the right path.

So, to every designer out there doubting themselves, I see you. I get you. And if I could tell my younger self anything, it’d be this: enjoy the ride. It’s messy and chaotic, and the highs sometimes feel as scary as the lows, but this life? It’s yours. Own it. Keep pushing. Keep creating. And when someone questions your vision, let them. Not everyone will get it, but the right people will.

Fashion, at its core, isn’t just about clothes. It’s about stories—yours, mine, and everyone who wears the things we create. And if that’s not worth the struggle, I don’t know what is.

So that’s why I’m not who you think I am. I am so much more than that—I’m every doubt I’ve faced, every risk I’ve taken, and every moment I’ve chosen to keep going when it would’ve been easier to stop. I’m a designer, yes, but also a fighter, a dreamer, and someone who refuses to settle. And I’m sure you are too. So please, stop playing small. Take up the space you deserve, embrace the fire that makes you different, and for the love of fashion, never let anyone dim your shine.