Sunday Reflections: The Pattern of My Growth

It's Sunday morning in LA, just past 9 AM, and I'm doing something I rarely allow myself – absolutely nothing. Well, nothing except sitting on my tiny balcony with my second cup of coffee, watching the October sun climb higher while mentally tracing the patterns of my week.

Looking back at just the past few days feels like flipping through a mini portfolio of my evolution. Thursday: embracing the unfiltered reality of my creative process. Friday: recognizing how my design voice is actually a chorus of influences. Yesterday: finding unexpected direction in rejection.

There's a pattern forming that I couldn't see when I was in the middle of each moment. It's like when you're so focused on individual stitches that you can't see the garment taking shape until you step back.

The pattern is this: every time I've chosen vulnerability over perfection, authenticity over performance, the result has been growth. Not comfortable growth – more like the growing pains kind – but growth nonetheless.

Professor Winters stopped me after class Friday and said something that's been echoing: "The difference between a student designer and an artist is that students create what they think others want to see. Artists create what they need to express." I nodded like I understood, but it's only hitting me now, watching a hummingbird dart around my neighbor's flowers, what she really meant.

I've spent so much of my college career trying to be the designer I thought would succeed – creating what I thought others wanted to see. The polished Instagram feed. The "marketable" designs. The Mandy who had it all figured out.

But the real evolution hasn't been in perfecting that performance. It's been in the moments I've dared to let it crack open – revealing the messier, more authentic creator underneath.

That fashion week rejection? It hurt like hell, but it forced me to confront whether I was designing for external validation or personal expression. The unfiltered studio post? Terrifying to share, but it connected me with people in a way my perfect posts never did.

I'm not naive enough to think the fashion industry suddenly values authenticity over aesthetics. But I'm starting to believe that my strongest work will come from the place where both exist together – where technical skill meets emotional honesty.

My coffee's gone cold while writing this. Time to refill and face this Sunday with intention. The collection redesign starts today, and for the first time, I'm not designing for anyone but myself.