a work in progress

Category: Kholo (Page 2 of 4)

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My Boys

I’m here.

Miles away from my boys.
My man and my son.

The cheeks that brush mine so often.
The arms that spread wide open to engulf me.

My man.
The wise counsel at night when I’m restless and anxious.

My son.
The abundant love that never doubts me.

The two of them.
Fill my world.
On most days.

Being without them makes me feel like I’m walking around without a pair of my limbs.
I don’t know why the credit card account is blocked.
I don’t know when lunch time has passed.
I don’t know how to find the strength to fill a day with more fabric talk.

And I long.
For each of them.

Each hug filling my insides.

That said.

I grow stronger each passing moment.
I learn about export duties.
I know how to send a firm “no” non-verbally at a harassing taxi driver.
I smile at receptionists and I know they find the magic in my smile,
A magic I thought I’d lost long ago.
I realise I’ve paid double per metre than I needed to.
I am pampered by others in my life, I usually care not to notice.

The mother coming home to Aru is anew.
The wife coming to V is anew.

The learning is in the risk you take.
The growth is in the leap you rise to.
When you feel pain, there is some kind of personal journey happening right there.
So don’t run.

Feel it anyway.
The only way out.
Is through.



Throw your hands up (in the air)

Somedays it seems you’ve just got to let go.

Not give up, but give in.

To what the universe is deciding for you.

Making the battle easier.

By accepting.

What is in your hands.

And what isn’t.




From one woman to another

If you do one thing in life.
Be it this.

Surround yourself with incredible, loving and supportive women.
They will lift you up.
They will take you along their ride.
They will cradle you when you feel like you can’t move.

Find these women.
Then give them the love
Right back.



Entrepreneurial Overwhelm

So sorry for going MIA.
This Kholo thing has had me swept under.
Like deep.
Super deep.

I’ve forgotten how hard it was to set up a business, the domain name, the e-commerce store, the pricing, the tags, the packaging, the shipping, it feels like it never ends.

It’s a lot like having a baby and I’m at month 8.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m loving it, but at times I’ve felt.


And I’m wondering if Aru got the short end of the stick with my patience last night.

It’s so easy to feel so deep, you comprise everything around you.
Your yoga.
Your meals.
Your loves.

Because this thing drives you.
It needs you.
And you feel like.
You need to deliver.

But today.
Today I was extraordinary.

I walked out of the office at 2:30pm and thought.
That’s it.

Today, I’m taking time out.

And it has been.

Everything that is meant to happen, will happen and I trust that.



In my (not so humble) point of view 

Success is nothing other than.How happy you are right here.

Right now.



Kholo keeps my soul alive. 

It keeps my eyes wide. 

Seeking, searching. 

It keeps me alive. 

I cannot wait to show you. 

The silks. 

The embroidery. 

I’m so nervous to share it –

What if it gets copied in a day? 

And I’m still scrambling to make the photoshoot happen?

Each little move to expose makes me nervous. 

I’ve barely done an instagram feed because I’m like… 

What if it isn’t on point? 

I don’t think I’ve ever feared getting it wrong, the way I’m fearing it now. 


As a friend of mine said. 

Scared is a good place to be. 


I guess all that’s left. 

Is to leap. 




How To Dream

If you are to dream, Don’t do it cautiously. 

Or hesitantly. 

Or steadily even. 
Dream irrationally. 



And with abandon. 
Because that my friend, 

Is how one ought to dream. 


History Marks Us

In ways we don’t even recognise. 

It says to us. 

This happened last time, so it’ll happen again. 
It says. 

Don’t do that, because then this will happen. 
It says. 

You aren’t capable of this, because you weren’t last time. 
It says. 

Don’t. Try. Again. 
And as we age, this history becomes our identity. 

Every incident adorns us and we become, 

Layered with wrinkles of this. 
And so. 

To become aware of your subconscious, 

Is the only way. 
To the true future. 


Hangovers from the past

So this is part 2 to the styling experience. 
Megan, the stylist, took me on a “shopping experience”. 

No need to buy anything, just experience shopping in a different way. 
And as we started, she told me about “hangovers from the past”. 
Maybe your mum never liked you in sleeveless. 

Maybe in the 80s brown skin wasn’t cool, so you needed to cover it up. 

Maybe that picture of you jumping with spaghetti straps and a white tee wasn’t so flattering. 

Maybe platforms are so 90s. 

Maybe long necklaces rested between your boobs funny. 

Maybe your husband didn’t like “blooming” skirts that gave you the hips you don’t have. 

Maybe the idea was to look slimmer, so everything (or most things), had to be fitted to avoid the “tent” look. 
All visual, fashion hangovers of the past. 
Things people said. 

Magazine articles you read. 

Pinterest advice you pinned.
They stop you. 

In the change room. 

And in life. 
In your tracks. 
And suddenly,

You’re stuck in time. 




The Stylist Experience

I don’t usually write about fashion / looks / trends here. So don’t worry – this isn’t that type of a post 🙂 

This year, one of my goals was to get my wardrobe sorted. I felt like I needed some realignment. Prior to Aru, all I wore was silk. I’m obsessed with silk. But after him, I needed to wear a lot more easy wash cotton and knits. 

But I put off this wardrobe change. In my eyes, it wasn’t important. It was vain. And to pay for vanity. Gosh! I’m a walking oxymoron. Hi 

So finally this clothing line I’m starting gave me the perfect excuse. 

“Get advise for the clothing.” 

Disguised as, “learn more about your own dressing style”. 

A friend of mine put me onto Meagan Harding. 

When I met her at a fashion event, her kind eyes were enough I needed to be able to trust her with all that vulnerability. 

So I booked her in under the thinking that it was more for the business than it was for my vanity. Man, I have serious issues… But I’ll save that for another day. 

One of the earliest questions Meagan asked me was:

How do you want to be perceived / how do you want to feel when you wear clothes. 

I had two responses. 

For business, I wanted people to want to emulate me. I wanted them to be inspired by my swag so much, that they wanted a piece of it. 

For personal, I wanted to be subdued. I didn’t want another woman to envy me. I didn’t want to be perceived as “showing off”. For fear that it might make a friend feel less. 

Whilst she got the first, she didn’t agree with the second. 

And deep down inside, I didn’t either. 

Why do we go playing ourselves down? 

In some way or form? 

Less smarter than we are at work. 

Less savvier than we are in our style. 

Less confident than we are in our relationships. 
When did making others feel better equate to making ourselves less? 


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