perfection projections

middle finger

I opened the blinds just enough to let warm light shine against my wooden desk, adorned with neatly stacked books + a mason jar full of upright pens. I snapped the photo of my clean + controlled work space.

Shit. I forgot to move my half-eaten bowl of chia pudding... + the dog leash.

This is life. This is my work space, it's never spotless. So, I snapped the photo anyway.

Birthing a brand + business is often coupled with some degree of neurotic control. Add in the delusional element of "perfection" social media plays, along with the pressures of being a woman, everything is heightened.

Trust me, I love beautiful photos, clean lines, effortless outfits (which I know aren't quite as effortless as they seem) + avocado toast on my feeds + favorite blogs. However, there's something unsettling about this constant visual sense of appearing "perfect" (perfectly hip, perfectly nutritious, a perfect mother/partner... whatever it may be) at all times.

It's only setting us up for a sense of failure, in my opinion.

Conveying photographic illusion + projections through a lens, video or with words is incredibly simple to do. The camera is our literal filter, it's up to us to remove the filter, sometimes embracing the gritty. We need the gritty more.

Over the past months, I've grown transparent (+ honestly, sometimes annoyed) seeing a false sense of perfection in so many forms that felt so ego-fulfilling. So I went deeper, asking myself that hard question, why do you feel this way? In that question, I found a few answers through my own insecurity, but more so the passion to be a voice for reality.

Look, I have beautiful product shots (that is why I hired the talented Alexis Courtney) + I am a filter fanatic when it comes to Instagram, but truth be told, the majority of what I don't post is the raw realities of what being a brand + super small business represents.

Until yesterday, my shower was clogged and coated with thick scum because my partner + I have been so busy that we didn't have time to snake the drain. Next to my pristine work space is an overfilled trashcan, mounds of shipping supplies + a corner mound of dog/cat hair. My refrigerator needs to be cleaned out, including the half eaten (not rotten) pound of clementines. I'm also combating a flare up of hormonal acne.


The gritty, no filters, life mishaps + the mundane is just as beautiful as your top knot. I promise.

Side note, my best friend (+ other side-business partner, whom I refer to as my soul sister) discuss this topic consistently. Recently, she posted something that captures exactly what I'm jiving at.