Thoughts, truths, and stories from a curated life.
I’ve always known I was creative.
Even as a child, I was building, crafting, painting. Finding joy in creating with my hands. That was my happiest place. Not because anyone told me it mattered, but because something in me needed to create. It was never about learning to be an artist. It was always about remembering that I already was.
Spring isn’t just a season, it’s a soft invitation to begin again. To open the windows, shake out the dust, and make space for something new to take root. If you’re like me, the urge to clear and clean hits hard this time of year. After months (or years, let’s be honest) of accumulation, clutter, and life happening at full speed, the mess starts to weigh on the spirit.
There was a time I questioned whether beauty really mattered.
With everything going on in the world, it felt small. Frivolous, even. But I’ve come to learn something that changed everything:
I didn’t start The Curated Life last week or even last year.
This brand has been growing quietly in the background of my life since 2021, through one of the hardest chapters I’ve ever faced.
