What Stays
There are certain pieces I wear that make me smile. Not because they're particularly noteworthy, but because they feel familiar. Familiar in a way that spans years, often decades. I can see a thread running through every version of myself. Through childhood, into my teens, and onwards into adulthood. Subtle threads, woven unconsciously over time, creating a fabric entirely of their own.
Recently, I've been thinking about what stays. The tiny details that remain the same. The pieces that follow us through the seasons of life. The preferences that transcend trends, age, circumstance, and reinvention.
A chuckle in the car on the way to a gig, knowing my nine-year-old self, Sophie, would be very pleased with the outfit that almost-forty-year-old Sophia has chosen. Somewhere beneath the layers of adulthood, responsibility, and experience, a quiet reminder that she's still there, shining through.
There's something wonderfully playful in honouring that part of ourselves. Allowing that younger version to still exist. To be seen. To find expression in adulthood. Because often, what stays isn't just a preference for a particular colour or silhouette. It's a feeling.
The pieces that remind us of someone we love. The details that feel like home. The things we return to again and again without ever quite meaning to. Perhaps that’s why certain details find their way back into our lives. Not because they’re fashionable, but because they help reconnect us to something deeper.
A version of ourselves we recognise instantly, even after years apart.
Different expressions, but the same underlying instinct. The need to run wild, the space to breathe, the room to move with ease. The desire for authentic expression. The need simply to be.
Perhaps what stays isn't a colour, a silhouette, or a favourite pair of shoes. Perhaps what stays are the values beneath them.
A favourite colour may come and go, but the desire for expression remains.
The pieces evolve, yet the desire for joy remains.
Expression matures, but the need to feel untethered remains.
The medium changes, but the creativity remains.
There’s a tendency to think that growth requires change. Yet increasingly, I wonder if growth is about honouring who we were before we thought we knew. Recognising ourselves, unaltered, and giving them room to grow. Perhaps personal style is a collection of values, gathered over a lifetime. The details merely become an expression of living in alignment with being recognisably ourselves.
