Perfectionism is such an unruly lover.
So many of the best things I have done came from unwavering attention to detail and refusal to fail. The voice that kept saying, even at 3am, you can do better, it can be perfect.
At 3am though, a girl should be sleeping. Not racked with fear about the difference between good and great. Or caught up questioning every decision, worried over failure from a misstep.
My will to be perfect has fueled and held me back in almost equal measure and I kept at it because I believed it moved me forward, made me fiercer, bolder, higher achieving. That is what I told myself over and over.
The Jimmy Choo’s tell a different story.
Ten years ago, on a girl’s trip, my mother and I found Jimmy Choo patent leather strappy sandals in my size at a Saks Fifth Avenue sale. She and I have always been close, bonding over a mutual love of fashion and beauty, able to create a party wherever we go.
My mother bought me the sandals as an incredibly generous gift, and I opened the pale beige box days later at home, bright with excitement. This was my first pair of luxury shoes, and they were every bit as beautiful, as elegantly designed and delicately crafted as you would imagine. I tucked them back in their monogrammed tissue, I slid them protectively aside.
I never wore them.
I thought about it. I wanted to. Events came and went. I attended beautiful parties. I packed them up and moved them with me to a new city. I tried them on before I spent Fashion Week in New York. They stayed in their wrapping.
Three months ago, deep into a year that has us all evaluating ourselves in one way or another, I found the sandals in a storage container. They were as flawless as the day they were bought, gleaming in the sunshine, Italian and stunning. And maybe it is the unpredictability of 2020, or a renewed sense of self that has come with it, but for the first time my immaculate Jimmy Choo’s gave me real pause.
I thought perfectionism protected me. It created the option for control and a sense of security. But I knew instantly it was not confidence or timing or faith that kept me from wearing the sandals; it was fear. Fear of stepping out. Fear of getting scuffed up and still being okay. Fear of accepting that life is messy, heartbreaking, and triumphant, sometimes in the same day.
There was no question the right moment existed – every day is a good day for Jimmy Choo’s. This was rooted in doubt of the uncharted, the way it might impact me negatively and the illusion that by keeping myself and my perfect shoes out of the game I was effectively saving myself. Reality check: none of us are exempt from life’s upheavals and vulnerabilities. Things can change in a moment, and even through the most diligent planning surprises abound. Over the years, despite my efforts, I have fallen, kicked up dirt, made mistakes, created more than a stir. Why was I acting like I am not here, head up, still standing?
Opting out and holding back did not ultimately keep me safe, or stronger, or more self assured. There is no perfect way, there is just now and the knowledge that you can succeed, and you can take a hit, and you can find your way through both. I had never been more aware of it than I was in that moment.
I started Strathmore Green shortly after that realization, and though I wanted it to be perfect, the real freedom came from giving myself, my team, and our readers permission to be a work in progress. To try new things, to learn new things, to change course, to be open and evolving and taking it all in stride. I continue to build this brand on the idea that the difference between good and great is perspective, attitude, effort, style. Accepting burdens and victories with the same grace, the drive to get back up and keep going, and the rush, I am discovering, that comes from running bravely into the unknown, fear be damned.
I will always want to create work and a life that is as close to my ideal as possible, but I am actively encouraging and forgiving of myself now. Life is so much wider, brighter, and heartier there.
Jimmy Choo’s on, in the game.