How do perceptions, biases, and expectations shape the way we move through the world? I explore these questions through my personal journey, transitioning from finance into the creative space, offering a personal reflection on reclaiming identity and challenging societal projections:
What kept you from pursuing modelling as a teenager?
I grew up in a highly strict environment where modelling not embraced; in fact it was desexualisation that was the prevailing norm. From an early age, I became aware of the scrutiny placed on my appearance. My looks were often framed as a problem: something to control or tame, leaving me self-conscious and confused:
Was my appearance something to suppress and be cautious of, or could it be something to embrace — even built a career around?
Choosing an academic path and pursuing a career in finance seemed like a way to detach from that scrutiny, to ignore the problem altogether.
How did your time in finance shaped how you viewed yourself and the understanding of the Muse?
Working in finance was both challenging and transformative, playing a key role in developing my inner confidence and resilience. As I pursued the academic route, I began to see myself more holistically — growing more confident in my professional interactions and increasingly detached from others’ opinions. I believed I could remain in control and would not be defined by my image nor would it become an obstacle. But it quickly became clear that others saw it differently — they weaponised it at every opportunity — to accuse me, to discredit me, and to deny me opportunities. It was the ultimate paradox: I was punished for not taking advantage of my sexuality, yet accused because of it. And the less I cared about others’ opinions, the more they made it their problem and tried to control the narrative.
Some friends offered well-meaning yet confusing advice: ‘Stop going for coffee with men, and thinking it is a business meeting. You are leading them on’. But how was I supposed to build a career while constantly walking a fine line. I was told networking and likeability were prerequisites for success, and I was advised to be cold and paranoid. I kept being fed with contradictory advice and I had to constantly adapt — mirroring others, mastering likeability, pretending, walking on eggshells. An exhausting survival mechanism that came at a high cost: in particular my authenticity and my voice. A vicious cycle of shame, resentment and anger against the system, and accusations.
Eventually, my ambition seemed to be entirely reframed as something sinister: while I hadpreviously been framed as too nice and weak, I was suddenly labeled as power-hungry, cold-hearted, and manipulative. These perceptions extended beyond my career into my personal life, where I was suddenly too assertive, too ambitious, too confrontational. Finally, they resorted to the easiest tool to discredit me: sexualization.
These experiences reopened old wounds tied to my identity and image, forcing me to confront the deeper implications of visibility, perception, and control. My initial sense of shame morphed into deep-seated anger toward the system, which eventually gave way to frustration, awareness, and an understanding of the structural biases at play. Worse, I was confronted with the realization that some people weren’t just indifferent to my success: they were actively invested in my failure.
Their accusations weren’t just rooted in gender bias and misogyny, but in fear — fear that I would finally break from the cycle and use my voice.
This was the moment I began to question my place in the business world. Had I chosen the wrong sector? Or was every industry just built on these same impossible contradictions?
The answer was unclear, but one thing was: in the creative realm, my open-mindedness would have been at least celebrated rather than punished.
How Did You End Up Involved in Modelling, and How Did It Impact Your View of the Muse Figure?
Upon leaving finance, I sought to reconnect with my creative side and develop a deeper, more nuanced understanding of fashion beyond its tangible aspects.
What began as a creative exploration soon became a profound experience that reshaped my mental health, my interactions with the world, and my understanding of self.
I finally recognized that the constant accusations and projections placed onto me had never been my fault. Even when I played small in the past — when I tried to be invisible — people still projected their own perceptions, fantasies, and narratives onto me. Worse, my silence only gave them more permission to control the narrative and frame me as weak to justify their bullying.
What truly mattered was my response — whether I let those projections define me, internalized them as guilt, or took ownership of my own narrative. Ultimately, it wasn’t about changing how others saw me — it was about removing the shame, guilt, or fear attached to how I was perceived.
Was this a reversal? No — I saw it as evolution.
It wasn’t about reclaiming my image in the way others expected, but about breaking free from imposed expectations and moving toward creating.
Ultimately, creativity became my way of healing, reclaiming, and redefining my identity.
One of the most rewarding aspects of this experience has been the ability to explore and embrace my creativity more openly.
It led to deep introspection and inspired new creative projects — something I hadn’t realized I needed to pursue more actively in order to feel truly fulfilled.
This serves as a reminder of the complexity of navigating power, image, and identity — the nuanced struggles we continuously face within a system that is inherently contradictory, multilayered, and deeply subjective.
