A sigh of relief.

When I was younger, I admired those girls who went with the flow and didn’t plan out each moment down to a fucking t. In middle school I got anxious about where I was going to attend college, as I fell for my crush in high school thinking if he was going to be my husband. Plot twist, Sam Green didn’t become my husband. I tried to organize and predict everything so I felt like I had control over my future — even getting superstitious that if my blinds didn’t go down in one full swooooop it would mean i would fail my test the next day. Well you get the point. This feeling of wanting to have control has transpired into different places of my life — from controlling (or over controlled) my weight to how I manage (or mismanage) my work stress.

Starting a company with a sibling is fucking hard — especially when you start when you’re 17. Even though I’ve always joked that I have soul of a 75 year old, I don’t have the lessons learned, the burns and the strengthened scars along the way. And when we first started Fair Harbor, while I’ve tried to plan out my career steps, FH kind of took a life of its own — I don't fully think I was prepared for what was coming my way. And when the going got tough, I “rubbed a little dirt on it” as my dad would say. But that expression of “rubbing a little dirt on it”, masking the pain of anxiety and not dealing with how I was maturing, has created this creature of anxiety in my body. It’s not something I’m entirely proud of, but it’s that feeling of control and wanting and needing everything to be perfect with Fair Harbor and other parts of my life that has caught up to me. At FH I oversee all creative and brand, and a few weeks ago, I ended my seven shoots in three months with our last shoot in Tulum shoot SP25 — ironically enough it took place at a yoga retreat and the concept is: Sit back and relax in the comfort of your own skin. And going into shoots, I’m in overdrive trying to control the uncontrollable. Working with a new photographer, his assistant, his second assistant, his digitech, our stylist, her assistant, hair & makeup, two models… I produced and directed the shoot and fuck it went well. And I was damn proud of myself. Exhausted but proud.

When we got home, Nick and I set out for the Amalfi Coast — a new hotel that’s been getting buzz: Borgo Santandrea. We arrived to the airport and had a quick meal where I immediately decided on the 9oz of wine over the 6oz. So we boarded the plane, and with not an ounce of sleep over the red eye, and we landed in Italy. With no plans except for our hotel, to eat damn good food and to savor each sip.

Each day was filled with luxurious mozzarella balls and chocolate crepes for breakfast, mimosas, fresh pasta and daily caught seafood, fluffy yet charcoaled pizza, crisp white wine followed by limoncello — finished up by a few puffs of a cigarette. Leaning into my curves, letting my body sink deeper into the ground beneath me as each day went by while my head starting floating a little higher in the clouds. Taking a sigh of relief of returning to the present moment of the sweet life — with Nick. My partner who I never would have imagined in my wildest dreams I could be that happy in each moment that passed by. Each day blended into the next and I felt eternally grateful, frequently expressing it aloud. I’m not perfect, and life isn’t perfect. But I’m grateful for those moments we had together under the sun by the Mediterranean Sea together. Blissfully being with one another, as we let the anxieties back home fall at the waist side. And I was reminded that life’s sweetest moments, and un-sweetest moments, can’t be planned. And the uncontrollable can’t be controlled. No matter how hard I try.

A few days later, and we returned home to the states. And a few days after that, came Yom Kippur. The holiest day in the Jewish religion. A day dedicated to atoning by fasting and repentance for one’s sins. As I sat in temple on Friday night, listening to our Rabbi’s sermon, he began talking about the flaws each of us have as human beings. The flaws that we tend to mask, and the risk of exploiting our vulnerability and breaking down the walls of imperfections. A wall that I know all too well that has created this heightened sense of anxiety throughout my life. But, as Rabbi Sirkman spoke about, it’s through the embrace of your own flaws and of others where you truly see people — and that’s where the beauty of life creates community. Because we can’t love if we don’t accept the broken parts along the way — the broken parts of ourselves and the broken parts of other. Because fuck, I’m not perfect and I’m not about to preach that I’ve figured it all out. But his sermon reminded me that we can connect through those imperfections, and let our guard down so we’re not tackling it alone. We all have our anxieties and challenges, that surface in different ways. But my trip away reminded me that the sweetest moments of life are sometimes the unpredicted ones. And this Yom Kippur reminded me that waves pass and communities can create unity in those imperfections.