The other day my sister walked into my room in a pair of new black pants and asked what I thought. “They’re really nice!” I said, “They’re black pants, but I think next time you shop you need a shopping buddy so you don’t keep buying the same thing.” We both heard the asshole-ishness in my voice, but I had reached my breaking point with the black pants. In all honesty, I’d been reaching for the same pair of black cargo pants for the better part of winter and probably let my own self-judgement boil over when my sister brought another pair of black pants into the building.

My first couple years in fashion were lonely. When I started attending New York Fashion Week in 2022, I experienced a lot of awkwardness and struggled to form strong professional connections. I was lucky to have received a lot of training on how to behave with PRs—Don’t editorialize. Don’t compliment the collections. Everyone wants something—but I had no clue how to reconcile my training with the relationship-centered nature of the job. At events, I would see journalists and PRs hugging like old friends and helping each other promote their projects. Girls huddled around each other in cliques while I stood alone, wondering how they’d reached that level of comfort and why I struggled so much to do the same.

Nature is our clue into how we, as women, blend softness and structure into our lives. In all the beauty and divinity we create and witness, there is an unshakable harshness that exists in life and, to an extent, must be tolerated: desolation, double-standards, disappointments…Writers such as Annie Ernaux, Maria Popova and Dana Brewer Harris, who embody divine femininity through their creative voices and vulnerability, help me find strength in words. In fashion, emerging designers like Julia Sloan, who find inspiration in nature, help me find strength in style.

To what extent is vulnerability a gateway to intimacy? As poet and philosopher David Whyte uttered in his book of essays Consolations II, “Intimacy is intimately related to our sense of having been wounded, and the startling intuition that my way forward into life, or into another person’s life will be through the very doorway of the wound itself. Intimacy invites me to learn to trust the way being wounded has actually made me more available, more compassionate and possibly more intimate with the world, by being opened in ways I never realised it was possible to be open…”

Last month, Lingua Franca hosted a cocktail party to celebrate their collaboration collection with the new Wicked movie. I have written about the realities of attending fashion events in the past, and each attendance brings the opportunity to reflect.

As we approach the new year there has been a stillness in the air, like the Earth is calling us to stop and take stock before trying to accomplish anything too new and shiny. Despite the onslaught of tasks and responsibilities that keep me drudging through the day-to-day, I can’t help but feel like I am achieving nothing. When I am stuck I turn to the work of essayist and creator of The Marginalian Maria Popova. In her essay titled The Managed Heart: Emotional Labor and the Psychological Cost of Ambivalence Popova opens with the clarifying question: “What are you unwilling to feel?” There is a paralyzing tension that arises when we, consciously or unconsciously, do the emotional labor of trying to feel that which we are not feeling.

“Can a single cherished memory of something noble and good suffice to resist the temptation of despair?” Dale E. Peterson asked this question in his essay entitled “Dostoevsky’s White Nights: Memoir of a Petersburg Pathology.” This question, which White Nights author Fyodor Dostoevsky contemplated over the course of his life, has been echoing in my ears this week. Since the days-ago election in the United States and the recent loss of someone who was once a major part of my life, I have wondered how moments of hope and joy can be juxtaposed with our deepest sorrows and disappointments. How do we find hope in dark times when it seems that one feeling cannot exist without the other? To lighten the load of these questions I turn to authors like Dostoevsky, who have found ways to explore these universal questions in a way that allows the rest of us to briefly escape them. In White Nights, an 1848 short story and one of Dostoevsky’s earliest works, we are introduced to a nameless protagonist of 26-years-old who takes us through a journey of inner restlessness, loneliness and unrequited love.

Lately, I have felt plagued by overwhelming heartbreak and loss. During times of grief my sense of self-worth is at its most vulnerable, as is the case for many of us. We find ourselves ruminating over what we could have done differently, or how we managed to manifest such pain into our lives to begin with. Creativity withers in this confusion. We might cook less and order more, feel less comfortable in our skin, dress to hide and feel left with little self-esteem to enjoy our minds, our bodies or our lives. Being at our most vulnerable is when we require the most love, care and patience, yet feeling depressed can drain us of the very energy required to show up for ourselves.

Accessorizing can feel like a major burden—It’s that last bit of styling that never fails to make me late for the party. However, without that extra dash of effort a look can easily fall flat, or worse, fall apart. It sounds dramatic, but there is a reason accessories have historically existed not just for utility (typically their primary purpose), but as a symbol of self-worth, status and luxury. When we wrap an extra-soft scarf around our neck, slip on a pair of sassy shoes or sling that bag our mom finally trusts us with around our shoulder, it doesn’t just look pretty, it feels different.

I used to revel in taking people by surprise and proving their assumptions and biases wrong. In a way, it defined me. I was the Black, White and Japanese girl from Taipei, Taiwan. The one who made people curious. The girl who stood out in any room. In reality, letting these pieces of my identity define the entirety of who I was disconnected me from others, and from the very heritage that brought me here and influenced my thoughts and beliefs.

Every once in a while I sit down to write about a topic and can’t help but think, who cares? Fashion is so trivial and taking the time to research and write about it is too. In a way, I actually think thoughts like this come from the fact that fashion isn’t at all trivial.

New York Fashion Week is an especially confronting time of year. In September and February writers, editors, designers, influencers and numberless other creatives in the fashion industry emerge from their day-to-day lives to come together for a collective trend-check. From the outside it appears fun, glamorous, the perfect recipe for F.O.M.O.

You know that feeling when you’re getting dressed to be active, and then the activewear feels so uncomfortable it crushes your spirit before you’ve even begun to move your body? On the days I have felt this way, exercise seemed more like a punishment than a way to nourish my health and wellbeing.

Getting dressed begins with our bodies. When we dress to hide our arms or legs, or to mask our other insecurities, we cut ourselves off from our bodies and arguably, our style and self-esteem suffers for it. Lately, I have found authenticity in getting in touch with my body head-to-toe.

I graduated from Northeastern University in 2019 at age 22. In July of 2023, just before turning 27, I finally admitted to needing to slow down. Up to that point, the better part of my post-grad life had been spent hustling, taking every professional opportunity and leaving minimal time for friends, hobbies or love-interests. I expected to be a huge overnight success after college, and when it didn’t happen I figured the solution was to work harder. Do more. Be better.

Back in 2022, I was at a dinner party with a friend from college and two older couples who he had known since childhood. Having walked in empty-handed and overdressed after believing we would be eating at a restaurant instead of the host’s hotel room, I was already feeling edgy and eager to impress. Regardless of my faux pas, we enjoyed drinking wine, chatting and getting to know one another over a yummy home-cooked meal.

It has been a complete whirlwind. Let’s catch up. Last week, I visited Coney Island for the first time:

Lately it’s been a struggle to not find getting dressed a little monotonous. While shopping with a friend this week we agreed that wearing our summer clothing felt pretty awesome at first, but it has gotten old quickly. Two weeks into July and this season is, unfortunately, just warming up. To make it through I am implementing a little mindset shift: feel over look.

Like many of our favorite clothing basics, T-shirts were originially born out of necessity. The solid T-shirt was manufactured as an undergarment in the 1800s and has since undergone several transformations throughout the last century.

A couple months ago, seemingly out of nowhere, my parents decided to co-host a fundraiser where the Vice President of the United States would be speaking. When I found out family members of the co-hosts were welcome to come along for the ride, I was visibly over the moon.