I just couldn’t get it out of my head, this voice that started really small and thin but became so nagging and loud that I just couldn’t ignore it. So I decided not to.
I’m finally doing it. I don’t want to be 80 years old and think- if only. I’m 35 and I already think that. I don’t want to be miserable for the rest of my life.
Stuck at home with fractured ankle, I’ve decided to re-do the online course. I’m taking my first steps towards developing my fashion line. I already know what I want to do, a tiny line of cashmere coats to be ready for the end of September.
I’m not a complete stranger to fashion. For the past two years I’ve been running a fashion blog. It doesn’t have a huge following but that’s OK. I’ve started to know people in the industry. My favourite part? Last years’s Paris Fashion Week.
I’m not going to tell anyone I know for now. Only my husband knows and he certainly doesn’t support me in this. He cannot understand why. But he knows I’m miserable and he wants me to be happy.
*Image via wishbonesandwonderlust