Last month, I officially traded in West Palm Beach for Miami. Well—sort of. I still have my apartment in West Palm (now functioning as my workspace), and technically it’s just an hour up the road. But living full-time in Miami feels entirely different. It’s the end of one chapter, the beginning of another, and like any transition, it brings both exhilaration and unease.
One moment I’m brimming with excitement over our new home; the next I’m staring at unpacked boxes, convinced I should already have everything styled and picture-perfect. The pressure comes in waves—an internal voice whispering that by now, the house should look magazine-ready, every corner intentional. But who exactly is demanding perfection from me? No one but myself. Ah yes, perfectionism, my old, unwelcome companion.
Rethinking Stress
In the midst of this whirlwind, I came across an insight from Harvard lecturer Tal Ben-Shahar that reframed the way I think about stress. He explains that stress itself isn’t the problem—it’s the lack of recovery. Imagine lifting weights: the stress on your muscles isn’t harmful. In fact, it’s what makes you stronger. But if you keep piling on the weight day after day without rest, injury follows.
The same applies to life. Stress can push us to grow, but without pauses, it consumes us. That perspective has encouraged me to treat stress differently—not as something to resist, but as something to pace. I’m learning to punctuate my busy days with moments of recovery: lighting a candle, taking a long bath, silencing my phone, or even just organizing my closet for half an hour. The key is being present, not distracted, so that those small rituals actually feel restorative.
Shedding Old Layers
This transition has also nudged me to simplify. Moving forced me to split my wardrobe between two cities, donating or consigning what no longer felt like “me.” The pieces I’ve kept in Miami reflect a softer, more practical style: oversized button-downs, airy dresses, items I can throw on at home or wear on a walk through the neighborhood.
For years, I preached the power of “dressing the part.” Clothes shape not only how others see you, but also how you see yourself. I’ve lived that truth through tweed blazers, statement gowns, designer swimwear, and a parade of heels—many of which felt glamorous but impractical. Comfort, I once thought, was too safe, too boring. Yet here I am, in this new season of life, with wet hair, no makeup, flip-flops on my feet, and a cotton tee I’ve probably worn three days in a row. And strangely enough, it feels right.
Perfectionism, especially rooted in my ballet background, has always made it easier to lean into polished, formal dressing. But right now, in the midst of change, I need something less staged. Clothes that feel like exhaling instead of performing. I’ve come to realize that slipping into something imperfect—a rumpled tee, cozy dress, or simple flats—switches on my inner “security button” and dials down the need to appear flawless.
Redefining Style, Redefining Home
In many ways, my definition of “style” is evolving alongside my definition of “home.” It’s not about creating an immaculate space overnight or curating a wardrobe to impress. It’s about creating both an environment and an identity that feel honest.
Our new house isn’t finished—it’s far from perfect. There are still decisions to make, rooms to design, corners to soften. But instead of rushing toward some unattainable ideal, I’m trying to live in the imperfection. To see this chapter not as a test of control but as an invitation to grow more comfortable with uncertainty.
And in the process, I’m reminded of when I first moved to South Florida at 19. Back then, I had no guarantees, no plan carved in stone, and yet the leap was exactly what I needed. This move feels similar: unfamiliar, slightly intimidating, but ultimately full of promise.
Embracing the Unknown
So here I am: embracing change, countering stress with recovery, and allowing myself the grace of imperfection. I’m living in a home that’s still finding its rhythm, wearing clothes that prioritize ease over performance, and reminding myself that beauty lies in what feels real, not perfect.
“Life as I know it” right now is about slowing down enough to let inspiration arrive in its own time. It’s about carving out room in both my home and my heart for what’s ahead. And maybe, just maybe, letting go of perfection is the most stylish choice of all.