Summer Journal Issue No.01

Summer is a season that allows us to feel a little more undone and free, while also being mindfully composed for those who wish. Loose linen and soft cotton against sun-kissed skin. A perfectly weighted cashmere wool throw to lay out with under the stars at night. Gathering with those who have us make time shared never want to end. Fragrance that lingers softly in the air as you walk by seasonal flowers in bloom. Jasmine climbing a wall in the evening, salty sea air landing on your body—or perhaps the unmistakable scent of pine in a tree-lined forest and the birds that greet you with your morning beverage. Even sweat, environmental debris, and the memory of your signature scent all combined become part of summer's nostalgia, or someone else’s unmistakable fragrance that lingers long after their embrace. Some of the most beautiful things about the season cannot be bottled. As a child, I remember laying on the hot concrete in denim shorts and a terry cloth tube top next to my grandmother's garden, daydreaming, tanning in the hot sunshine, praying that feeling would last forever. The garden produced more than we could possibly eat fresh, leaving enough to preserve for winter and more than enough to share. 

One of the greatest luxuries is trusting that you are exactly where you need to be. I've come to believe that my timing is perfect when I allow it to be. Two years ago I was living in the South of France, today I’m in Miami. Two vastly different worlds, serving different purposes at different times. I know exactly what this season is asking of me. And so I am completely content with my place - no feelings of missing out, while always longing for more time with the ones I love most, wherever they are. Not having all those we adore in one spot is an occupational hazard being a creature who roams. When we do spend time, the treasure is deep. Back to the present, because this is where great power lies. Work with what you have today. Do what you can in every moment. More often than not, everything else arrives when it is meant to. I've found that being resourceful with what I already have often creates room for more of what is on my heart.

Hydration begins long before skincare. What I eat is reflected in my skin almost immediately. I love an apéro with salty chips as much as anyone–or a stacked charcuterie, but over time I've learned to crave foods that leave me feeling vibrant rather than depleted–hydrated, rather than dehydration that shows up on my skin. I do live more than a little, and the condition of my skin the next morning is not going to stop me from enjoying a moment, but I do mind my intake because I prefer to not resemble a shriveled grape. The most recent obsession I gravitate to is homemade celery and pineapple juice—simple things that quietly support healthy skin. Sugar has become my own subtle reminder. When it begins to show up on my face or sabotages my energy bank, I know it's time to retreat from sneaking all of those gummy candies throughout the day. 

Bloodwork has become one of the most valuable forms of self-care I've invested in. Information allows you to simplify instead of guess, and to reduce any mental noise. After several years of recovery from a head injury (sustained in 2018), I became much more aware of how deeply inflammation affects every part of the body—the brain particularly, but including the skin. Our bodies are constantly communicating with us. We simply have to slow down long enough to listen. The more willing we are to listen, the less complicated caring for ourselves becomes. That which once plagued us becomes second nature like breathing. 

My skincare routine has become remarkably simple over the years. Fewer but better products. Still a connoisseur, just more consistency. I've noticed that my skin responds exceptionally well to a simplified routine. Some formulas deliver immediate gratification overnight. Others quietly improve how your skin behaves over months and seasons. Those are often the ones I keep reaching for. That philosophy became the foundation for Calm and Define Facial Balm. The results will compound over time - and allow you to bring in new products as you wish, knowing that you are working with a healthy, not compromised canvas. 

Summer lends itself to making time for slow moments, for play, and for daydreaming. We often think productivity comes from doing more, yet I've found the opposite to be true. Thirty uninterrupted minutes devoted to yourself—walking, reading, stretching, resting—can create more spaciousness in your day than rushing through an extra hour ever could. Slowing down truly does create more time. 

Trust yourself, and stay the course. Celebrate your progress, even when it feels ordinary. Forgive yourself often. Where can you create reconciliation in your life - and body? Notice where you're holding tension—not only in your shoulders, but in your jaw, your forehead, and the muscles around your eyes. Our faces quietly carry our stories. The more we soften within, the more that softness begins to appear on the outside - quite instantly. 

Confession: I did not begin wearing sunscreen consistently until I was thirty-five. I know! And never to have had a facial until age 32. Fortunately, our skin is remarkably resilient. Today, sunscreen has become one of the least negotiable parts of my routine. The UV index changes dramatically depending on where you are. Caring for your skin doesn't require perfection. It simply asks for care and consistency.

What is inspiring me this season? Diversity. Passion. Commitment. Makeup–I love stepping into a different character with each new look, if even only subtly different. It’s about the feeling - because how we feel determines how we show up in the world. Beautiful dinners. Books that envelope me. Thoughtful design. Honest conversations. Afternoon ocean dips. Puppy cuddles (and being their chef). Fresh flowers from the grocery store. That first morning coffee, and a hibiscus tea in the afternoon. Watching visitors fall in love with my city. Time - even when it feels like the schedule is full. Learning the paradox of what time is and is not, will change your life. 

You get what you repeatedly focus on. There was a time when I noticed every perceived imperfection in my face (and neck, and chest). One day I realized something surprising—I had simply stopped looking for them. The perceived imperfections seemed to evaporate or minimize. The features I once considered changing had quietly become part of someone I had grown to love. When I choose to refine something cosmetically, you can absolutely bet I will. But I no longer feel rushed to refine that which doesn’t require it too soon. Over the past 3 years I’ve become someone I love seeing in the mirror - no matter the season or reflection. 

Beauty ebbs, flows, and changes with every season.

Summer reminds us of that every year.

The light changes.

The season melts into the next.

Impermanence isn't something to fear. It's what gives the ordinary moment its extraordinary value.

As I daydream this morning of one of my first summer holidays in France back in 2011, I'm reminded of the vast artistic impressions that flooded me and the tiny moments that I would repeat for summer’s to come, and still do. 

The impressions we pick up along the way crack us open if we let them. A cracking open into being an original, not a replica, revealing more of who we are at the core. Codes unlock as we experience the energy from where we are drawn. Go where inspires you and immerse yourself fully and completely. Become so fully yourself that the life meant for you has no choice but to find you.

There is something deeply magnetic about being who you really are. Not because it demands attention, but because it no longer spends energy asking for permission.

Sensuality has very little to do with being seen by someone else. It is the quiet pleasure of inhabiting your own life.

Fresh sheets.

Clean skin.

Bare feet on the warm ground.

That first sip of coffee.

A favorite fragrance.

Afternoon sunshine passing through windows and landing on your skin.

It lives in ordinary moments that ask nothing of us except our presence.

In case your faith in the human spirit has wavered lately, I'd love to leave you with something I witnessed the other day.

As I waited at a busy intersection, I noticed a blind man standing on the opposite corner. I think he sensed the light had changed but wanted to be sure before stepping forward. Gently, he called out, "Is anyone there? Could someone help me?" Within seconds, a man in his thirties walked over without hesitation. He softly took his hand and placed it behind the gentleman's tricep, confidently guiding him across the street. It was one of the most quietly beautiful things I've witnessed in a long time. A reminder that it is perfectly okay to be the one who asks for help. And perhaps an even greater reminder that it is a privilege to be the one who gets to offer it.

May we all have the courage to do both.