In my last blog post, I shared my desire to find my way back into the creative field. By the time I hit publish, a lot of in-depth conversations and heart to hearts had taken place. And I did something I was very afraid to do.

When I started my career in real estate in the beginning of the pandemic, it was a decision born out of necessity. I was less than a month officially divorced after 3 years of back and forth and of severe case of writer’s block, my artistry and fashion gigs on hold until the world opened up again. While I found success rather quickly, I dragged on sharing and promoting myself in that space because a part of me still had hope I could regain my success in the fashion and beauty realm once the dust had settled. Instead, I still hit the pavement unlocking doors and negotiating deals because while I didn’t like real estate per say, I liked the life it provided. I was helping people who felt they could never become homeowners, succeeding in areas their parents could not, and I felt an obligation and a sense of purpose, even if temporarily. I needed to keep going even when most days, I didn’t want to. The statement my daughter made about mom’s previous ‘cool’ job echoing in the back of my head, ringing louder and louder as the months rolled by started to really affect my desire to work in an industry that I didn’t feel I fit into already. I started posting “workwear” posts to make it more fun, quickly realizing my audience was still there and when I didn’t do my outfit posts, many sent DMS asking why. The signs were signing as they say, but I still wasn’t budging.

My husband, asking me repeatedly now to do something different, something that made me happy and it riddled me with anxiety until I finally admitted, I didn’t know how to start over again. I had over 15 years of amazing experiences that I feared I’d never get back and so I stayed put. I was afraid. I had always been so bold and daring, unafraid to take chances or to take no for an answer. But here I was, frozen by fear until I couldn’t recognize myself. Thank goodness for a supportive husband and for friends who gather you when needed, especially those creatives with psychology degrees that will tell you about yourself. Shout out to my booski and PHD candidate who has held me down and held me up so much over the last 7 years, providing laughter and good times when my soul needed it and for the best advice I needed to hear. She said, “Start at the very beginning, exactly how you did it the first time and see how it evolves. Don’t wait until you are ready, just do.”

So, I went back to the very beginning. I was 18 again in my childhood bedroom staring at my design sketches scattered all over my room, my school design project half done on the mannequin when the phone rings. My college bestie, Sara, was in the middle of a test shoot, the ones you do to build your portfolio, and she wasn’t a fan of the model’s wardrobe. I was the model’s size, so I grabbed pieces from my own closet and ran from the O’hare area to Logan Square and did my first test shoot as a wardrobe stylist, a job I didn’t know existed until that day. I’d get signed by one of the biggest agencies in Chicago after my second shoot as did Sara. My career as a stylist, writer, artist, on air expert…all of it evolved from that one phone call. So, I called Sara.

Within two weeks, I hung up my real estate license, did my first test in almost a decade, got offered a contract from a major agency, got back on the makeup artistry freelance roaster, and got my first writing assignment from my former editor. I had started over but not technically from the beginning but as an industry vet coming back home. The morning of my test shoot as I was leaving, my daughter shouts out, “send me pics so I can show my friends that my mom is a wardrobe stylist again.” And just like that, I had my “cool” job back.