Two Months in New York

On comparison, creative pressure, and learning to bake the cake first.

I’ve been living in New York City for about two months now, and I’ve caught myself getting ahead of myself. Being surrounded by so much ambition and creative energy is overwhelming – especially at a place like The New School. I’m constantly around people who want the same things I do. Some are in the same place as me, and others already seem to be finding real success.

But why am I comparing myself?

For a while, I was putting so much pressure on myself to land the internship, get the job, show up at every event, know the right people. To feel like I was doing something.

But I’m letting that go.

I mean, I’ve only been here for two months. How can I expect myself to be fully immersed in an industry I’m just beginning to experience in real life? I’m learning to take it easier on myself. To breathe. To keep doing what I love, and trust that the rest will come when it’s supposed to.

And I think that’s the part no one really talks about…this in-between stage. Not the breakthrough. Not the success story. But the quiet buildup. The period where you’re absorbing everything – figuring out your taste, your voice, your instincts. It doesn’t look impressive from the outside. It’s not something you can easily post or prove. But it’s necessary.

And that’s the sweet stuff, isn’t it?

You have to bake the cake to eat it. And all of that hard work makes it taste even better.

I’ve been thinking about people I admire, especially in fashion and creative industries, and how none of their timelines were instant.

Vivienne Westwood didn’t even begin her fashion career until she was 30, yet she went on to completely reshape punk and fashion as a whole.

Diana Vreeland didn’t become the editor of Vogue until she was 60 years old, and went on to revolutionize fashion journalism.

Bill Cunningham became widely known for his New York street style photography in his 50s, after years of simply observing, documenting, and developing his eye.

And then there’s Iris Apfel, who didn’t gain major recognition until her 80s, proving that style, creativity, and relevance don’t expire.

None of these people just “got lucky later.” They spent years becoming who they were. Developing their taste, living their lives, failing, experimenting, evolving.

And I think that’s what I’m doing right now, even if it doesn’t always feel like it.

There’s this pressure in creative industries, especially in a city like New York, to be constantly visible. To always be moving, networking, achieving.

But what if growth is happening in quieter ways? In the way I observe outfits on the subway. In the way my taste in clothes is changing. In the way I’m starting to understand what I actually like, instead of what I think I should like.

Maybe success isn’t about how quickly you arrive somewhere – it’s about what you’re able to build once you get there.

So I’m trying to reframe this moment. Not as me being behind, but as me being exactly where I need to be. At the very beginning.

Still forming. Still learning. Still becoming.

And maybe that’s not something to rush through, but something to fully experience.