The Quiet Revolution of Being Seen: What Happens When We Stop Hiding
It's Wednesday morning in LA, just past 9 AM, and I'm nestled in my favorite corner of the campus coffee shop. There's something magical about this spot – the morning light filters through the windows just right, making everything look like it belongs in a coming-of-age film. Including me, I guess.
Yesterday was one of those days that feels insignificant in the moment but keeps echoing in your mind. During our critique session, Professor Chen asked us to present someone else's work instead of our own. I was paired with Marcus – you know, the quiet guy with the incredible technical skills who barely speaks in class.
As I presented his collection, something shifted. I found myself articulating values in his work that he hadn't verbalized but were clearly there – his subtle commentary on fast fashion, the way his structures created both protection and vulnerability. The room got quiet in that way that tells you something important is happening.
Afterward, Marcus approached me with tears in his eyes. "You saw me," he said. "You actually saw what I've been trying to say."
That moment has been replaying in my head all night. Because isn't that what we all want? To be truly seen? Not just our carefully curated selves, but the messy, complicated intentions behind our work and our words?
It struck me that this is connected to everything I've been processing lately – the relationships shaping me, the obstacles becoming opportunities, the growing trust in my own voice. All of it comes down to this practice of authentic seeing and being seen.
The irony isn't lost on me that as a fashion design student, I'm literally creating how people will be seen. But am I creating armor or windows? Am I designing to hide or to reveal?
My collection is evolving in response to these questions. The experimental fabrics from Tara are now becoming these interesting layered elements – transparent in some places, structured in others – a physical manifestation of this dance between vulnerability and strength.
October is just beginning, and I feel like I'm standing at the edge of something important. Not just for my final collection, but for how I move through the world. There's a quiet revolution happening in how I see myself and others, and somehow, that feels more significant than any trend forecast or design breakthrough.
The morning rush is picking up around me. Time to head to studio hours. But I'm carrying this question with me today: What happens when we stop hiding and allow ourselves to be truly seen?