Starting Over - In Style
There are moments in life when the idea of “starting over” feels less like a grand gesture and more like a series of quiet, intentional choices. Styling my sister for her solo trip to Florence became one of those moments for me. It wasn’t about reinvention or escape. It was about showing up for a woman stepping into a newly independent chapter with honesty, restraint, and confidence.
This was my sister’s first trip alone as a soon-to-be divorced woman. The circumstances were real and unglamorous in the way most turning points are. She had a limited budget, a strong desire to feel like herself again, and a need for clothing that could carry her through unfamiliar days with ease. Instead of starting from scratch, I began where I always do: by looking closely at what was already there.
The process was rooted in editing, not acquiring. We set aside pieces that no longer felt aligned and pulled forward garments with strong bones and emotional neutrality. I’ve always believed that style works best when it reflects who you are, not who you think you should be. When chosen thoughtfully, clothing can become a stabilizing force at times when everything else feels in flux.
Travel has a way of accelerating clarity. Moving through a new place alone requires presence and decisiveness. You choose where to go, how long to stay, and who you allow into your orbit. In that sense, solo travel mirrors the emotional work that follows divorce. Both demand self-trust, self-reliance, and a willingness to sit with discomfort until it softens into confidence.
Florence felt like the perfect backdrop for this shift. It’s a city that values craftsmanship, history, and restraint, rewarding intention over excess. The wardrobe followed that same philosophy. Each look was designed to feel grounded and capable, polished without being precious. I often say that knowing you look your best changes how you move through the world. Confidence becomes quieter but more assured, and people respond to that energy instinctively.
The final lineup was cohesive and considered. A black Marni jacket from the early 2010s provided structure and authority. A houndstooth wool skirt from the 1980s was tailored into a mini, giving new life to a classic textile. A Saint Laurent denim Lulu bag added modernity and function, while cognac lace-up boots by Joan & David from the late 1990s offered comfort and character. The one new investment, a jacket from KZ K Studio, was chosen not as a statement piece but as a long-term companion.
To elevate her existing wardrobe without financial strain, I sourced a few designer resale pieces from my shop, Discovered: Cornwall. The goal was never to mask reality with luxury, but to show that quality, fit, and intention matter far more than novelty or volume. A well-styled closet doesn’t require abundance. It requires clarity.
At its core, this wasn’t really about Florence or fashion. It was about helping my sister feel supported as she reentered the world on her own terms. Divorce can strip away certainty, but it can also sharpen perspective. Through solo travel and thoughtful styling, she began reconnecting with her instincts, her preferences, and her sense of agency.
This is where style becomes more than aesthetic. It becomes functional, emotional, and quietly transformative. When clothing aligns with where you are rather than where you’ve been, it can offer a sense of steadiness that carries you forward. To me, that’s where true luxury lives. Not in excess, but in confidence, intention, and the freedom to choose yourself.