“I don’t know how she does it.”

“Wasn’t she in Thailand yesterday? How’d she get back here so fast?”

“I’m pretty sure she’s getting an MBA too. Her 24 hours must be a little different.”

And while I was a little entertained, the honest answer is that I have the exact same 24 hours as everyone else - I’m just maximizing the hell out of mine. My life definitely gives bus, club, another club, plane, next place.

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So here are the tips that keep me going on a busy day:

Early to bed, early to rise

Call me a grandma, but I’m usually in bed by 11 PM and up by 6:30 AM. Primarily because my dog starts barking as the sun rises. Sleeping and rising early genuinely makes me feel like I bought a few more hours. By the time 10 AM rolls around, I’ve walked the dog, gone to the gym, and cleared out my inbox.

Find an energy booster

For years, I wasn’t a caffeine person. I always said “If I’m tired, I’ll just go to sleep.” However, as I get closer and closer to 30, I need a little booster. My summer in San Francisco gave me the gift of matcha, and being back home in the city has given me the blessing of coffee. But, my budget is not going for a $12 artisanal coffee from a cute little shop every day, nor am I physically trying to deal with pods and a machine taking up counter space. I recently started drinking Folgers Instant in Black Silk right before I walk my dog, and I can feel that energy boost all day.

Map out your day’s activities

Many days, I start working from home, then I head to a brand event, a social gathering, a workout - it’s a never-ending cycle. I like to plan my days in a circular motion. I want to end as close to home as possible, even if that means I’m lugging around a bag with a change of clothes. If I go home in the middle of the day, I’m staying home.

Say no - FAST

The real secret to looking like I have extra hours is that I decline quickly. If an event, a brand deal, or even a hangout doesn’t fit the day I’ve already mapped out, the answer is no. Lingering maybes are the biggest time thief I know. Every no is how I afford the yeses that make people think I was in Thailand yesterday.

And the next time someone asks me on a red carpet how I do it all, I’ll probably just smile. The answer is too boring to say out loud: coffee, a calendar, and a lot of no.

I’ll be the first to acknowledge my privilege. Vanderbilt undergrad, Columbia MBA - both tuition-free. Big tech and high finance on the resume. A high earning business of my own. On paper, I was the ideal applicant for a selective MBA program. That’s exactly why I think you should reconsider.

Business school - and when I say business school, I am referring to the M7 and schools ranked in the top 20 on US News & World Report - is only worth it at an inflection point. An MBA is not a good or bad degree, it is a pricy degree based on timing.

There are four circumstances in which an MBA is worth your time:

1. You’ve been laid off or out of the corporate world for a while and need a solid reentry point

2. You’re pivoting into a structured recruiting pipeline (aka banking or consulting)

3. You’re going for free (either sponsored or via scholarship)

4. You’re an entrepreneur torn between paths and need the network (and in all honesty, if this is you, it’s best to just build)

Getting my MBA made perfect sense and the timing was fabulous in my case. I decided to apply to business school in the fall of 2022 after taking mental health leave from my cushy tech job at Google. I had one foot out the door and was being harassed by a superior, so I knew my time was going to be running out. I applied to MLT MBA Prep that fall (I’m an MLT loyalist for life) knowing that I would be entering business school in the fall of 2024.

A few weeks after I applied to MLT, I was laid off from that job via email. I was not scared, I was relieved. I was gearing up to submit my notice. I was timing it so that I could collect my bonus and let my stock vest. While that layoff took me by surprise, there was an inherent benefit in being laid off first; the severance package was absolutely excellent. That, coupled with being on payroll for 3 months before the severance package hit and a multi-six figure stream of income as a creator, told me that I didn’t need another job. I was the job. Shoutout the City Girls.

I applied to eight schools - most of the M7 and one top 20. I received five acceptances (three of which were waitlist conversions) and decided to go to Columbia Business School on scholarship. My full-tuition scholarship paired with my earnings as a creator meant that I was never taking two years off. In fact, business school was a solid boost for me. When I left Google, I had three years of work experience. I was solidly entry level. While my resume had big names in the form of Google, Goldman Sachs, and iHeartMedia - there was a ceiling for someone with such limited work experience. I applied to business school to focus on entrepreneurship, but I knew that if I ever wanted to make a return to corporate America, I’d be limited to relatively junior positions. The MBA stamp does a lot of heavy lifting for me. Would I have been able to make a switch into product as easily as I did without it? Probably not. By the way, I started a full-time role as a Product Manager at a big tech company a few days ago. Surprise!

I was the prime example of inflection point #1. The system worked as designed for me because I was exactly the person in exactly the circumstance it was built for. And in all honesty, if the money didn’t shake out the way it did, I don’t know if this would’ve been worth it for me.

Everyone says they’re going for the network. The real reason is the network plus one of the following:

1. You want to feel like a serious person. You likely went to a highly selective undergrad and you’re watching all your friends do real school (usually medical or law school). You can’t be the odd one out, but being a doctor isn’t for you and law school requires a level of mental strength you don’t want to undertake, so business school it is!

2. You’re legitimately bored. That promotion isn’t coming, you’re stuck in a dead end job, and you can’t make a decision. Business school will make that indecision look like progress until you can figure out what you actually want to do with your life.

3. You HATE your job with a capital H. The idea of a two year travel break is a siren song. The fantasy of making lifelong friends while traveling through Asia is enticing.

4. You feel a slight sense of inferiority about where you went to undergrad and want a better name for yourself. You likely were the smartest person in your small town and a bright star at your state university, but moving to the big city and meeting all the folks who have the boarding school/Ivy combo pack makes you feel like an impostor.

5. You want to pivot! This one’s such a problem it’ll get its own section.

I’ll be honest, the network aspect of business school is very real. Much like my time at Vanderbilt, I was educated with the super wealthy’s children, meeting folks who will definitely be titans of industry in the future, and was able to contact famous alumni who were always willing to chat. My classmates were smart and driven - and it’s a nice plus that in 30 years I’ll be able to call them to get my teenager a summer internship.

Despite that, wealth won’t include you just because you go to school with it.

There will always be a few different realities at institutions like these - the one of the uber wealthy, the moderately wealthy, the middle class on their way to money, the middle class who grew up adjacent to it and assimilate easily, and those meeting immense wealth for the first time.

This phenomenon was clear at CBS and at some other schools (Harvard’s Section X is widely known). It’s an undeniable us v. them dichotomy. And most people who haven’t been around that kind of money prior to business school likely won’t be able to afford to make the connections with the people who have it like that.

That Euroski trip isn’t cheap, know that. The money will go home without you.

Pivoting won’t work for most of you. Unless you’re trying to recruit for investment banking or consulting, it will be an uphill battle. Those two pipelines are built to absorb MBA candidates regardless of pre-MBA background.

Early in my first year, I went to a Google info session with a friend. Google was her dream job and I figured I’d attend and see if anything had changed in the three years since I’d left the company. The recruiter asked the audience “show of hands, how many of you came to business school to pivot?” Almost the entire room raised their hand. My friend was one of them. The recruiter quickly burst everyone’s bubble by saying what I already knew to be true at Big G, “that’s unfortunate, because we’ll hire for what you know how to do, not what you want to do.”

Lots of people go to business school expecting it to be a teleporter to a spanking new career. But if your background is in retail marketing and you want to pivot into tech strategy, trust and believe you’ll be a marketer in big tech! The real path to that dream job likely won’t be immediate. It will take multiple moves over multiple years and maybe the MBA is step one. Maybe it’s not.

The harsh reality is that some will graduate without jobs because they believed in the teleporter fantasy. Let me be clear about who I’m talking about: my classmates were smart, driven, and genuinely impressive people. But two years in, some of them couldn’t tell you what they were going to do after graduation. Smart is not a plan. The degree buys you time to figure it out, but it doesn’t do the figuring for you. They might want something so specific that they’re unwilling to come to terms with the fact that the specificity they desire may be blocking a blessing in the form of another role.

During my first year, I was pretty nonchalant about recruiting. I had a job that paid well, so I wasn’t planning on recruiting. A conversation with my mom where she told me that this would be the easiest time in my life to get hired, inspired me to drop my resume for Product Management internships. I applied to all the big tech heavy hitters and got interviews and offers from everyone. A classmate said to me: “it seems like everything is coming so easily to you.”

Looking back, this was a bit of shade - but, she was correct. Tech companies were foaming at the mouth for me because I was coming from Google! They were hiring me for what I knew how to do, not what I was dreaming of. And to be fair, tech recruiting is rough - especially if you’re not coming from tech. I knew lots of former consultants who wanted to be PMs or PMMs and simply couldn’t get a company to bite. Most of them went into strategy roles (aka what a tech company will hire a former consultant to do).

Every PMM who is indifferent about being a PMM takes a stab at Product. It’s the natural next step because it’s not a pivot. It’s moving one square over on the chess board, inside the same industry with a flashy company’s logo on the resume.

My degree was worth it because I was at an inflection point and barely paid for it. Before you sign up for a quarter-million-dollar experience and no paycheck for two years, think harder.

So yes - this girl got an MBA. This girl also walked in at an inflection point, earned money the entire time she was in school, and walked out with another cushy tech job. This degree is not a magic wand. It won’t change your life.

That’s up to you.

I had fun though!

In a world where an orgasm is truly hard to come by (pun absolutely intended), good sex feels worth holding onto. One of my friends recently said to me, while recounting her own struggles with a demon - “I have fucked on the worst men to ever live, dick was excellent though.”

After a copious amount of laughter, I had an epiphany. Good sex is not a reward. If anything, it’s a sedative. I’ve previously stated that false hope can make even the most rational woman insane. If you couple false hope with good dick, you might legitimately lose your mind.

The loss of one’s mind while dickmatized comes in stages. Nobody wakes up in the morning and decides they want to tolerate demonic behavior. It’s slow and gradual, but if you aren’t careful, it’ll take over.

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Stage 1: Discovery

Meeting a man (especially in the wild) leaves a bevy of questions. After all, a crush is simply just a lack of information. I can’t speak for everyone’s group chat - but I know mine consistently hopes a man is well-endowed. Because what is anyone gonna do with a shrimp?

I’m almost 30 years old. Sexual chemistry matters to me deeply and I’m at a point in life where I refuse to teach a man the sexual skills he should have learned in his adolescence and early 20s. No judgment to the late bloomers, but I unfortunately can’t be of assistance.

So when you meet a man who is fine, smart, well-groomed, and he’s packing a well trained horse in his pants? Oh baby, you’re a goner. And don’t let him be the elusive eater & beater combo! Mediocre dick has never held a woman hostage. The danger in this situation isn’t the man, it’s knowing that he’s talented.

I’ve seen my fair share of truly generational talents. Trust and believe, I didn’t want anyone else experiencing that. I’m an only child, I absolutely hate sharing.

Stage 2: Excusal

Inevitably, this man will do something disappointing. Maybe he’ll say the wrong thing or forget an important detail. It could be small, it could be big. Regardless of what it is, it’s a red flag. That flag is flashing red in your mind, and you will begin to convince yourself that it’s orange (maybe even yellow). Instead of interpreting his actions as a representation of who he is, you think of it as a tax on something great. Because after all, that dick is excellent.

I have found myself doing this quite consistently over the years. I can name three men who legitimately had me losing my mind because they were fucking me six ways to Sunday. Each of them did things I’m not proud of. But you can bet your ass, I covered for them.

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Reading Strangers by Belle Burden.

I’m usually not one to get involved in white woman’s business but Strangers is one of the most interesting reads that I have had in a very long time. Imagine waking up in the middle of a pandemic thinking that your marriage is perfect and your husband decides he wants to leave you. Insane work on his part.

This was such an interesting read, especially when examining the lives of the hyper-privileged. Belle (and her husband) are so damn rich and he was still fucking her six way to Sunday during their divorce negotiations. I was legitimately gripping my seat while reading. One of my favorite reads of 2026, so far.

Eating Cambodian Food

I got a reservation at Bong in Crown Heights and it’s one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time. I tend to think of Crown Heights as a Caribbean enclave (it absolutely is), so to find Cambodian food on Sterling Place was truly a pleasant surprise.

Every single thing I had was amazing. Highlights included the shrimp (which is a softshell so you eat it whole), the fried squid, and the corn. Truly so delicious and I’ll definitely be back! I’m actually thinking about planning a trip to Cambodia now, so don’t be shocked when you see those posts on Instagram.

Playing The Polygamist on Netflix!

Jonasi Gomora is truly a wicked man. I have seen my fair share of unfaithful men in my day. Hell, I grew up in a Caribbean family so I have seen the depths of how terrible men can be. Jonasi Gomora is far worse. How Joyce did not kill that man is beyond me - especially after the Lindani debacle!

I absolutely love South African TV and if I can make one recommendation, watch it in Zulu with the subtitles.

Obsessing Over my goddaughter Kalea!

She’s a month old and is the cutest thing. I love having new babies in the family. I take my role as godmother very seriously, so I will be spoiling this little one.

Recommending Black-Written Romance

The Missed Connection by Tia Williams was truly a fabulous read (well, a listen). I’m not usually one to listen to an audiobook, but Spotify was offering it for free! Please consider this a heads up that if you have Spotify Premium, you get access to tons of audiobooks for free!

I loved Seven Days in June, so I figured I should give it a shot.

Tia Williams was writing pure filth on that page! Some of those sex scenes had me hoping and praying my bluetooth wouldn’t magically disconnect while riding the train. If you love a romance novel, this will definitely be a fun read.

Treating myself to whimsy

Business school made me feel a little too serious. I had to remind myself that I’m young, hot, highly educated, and well traveled. I am outside this summer in a way that is so treacherous, outside should fear me! I’m saying yes to invitations and enjoying myself!

So cheers to summer 2026! And to me using Substack consistently!

I wish I could make excuses for my behavior, that I could justify why I stayed so long in something that only felt good half the time and the honest answer is that when it was good, I felt like I was floating. The kind of feeling you’d do embarrassing things to hold onto. But when it was bad, I was in the 9th circle of hell. And if I’m being super honest, I loved that man. Deeply. He says the feeling was reciprocated, but looking back - I think he hated me. My friends think he hated me. Hell, my therapist thinks he hated me. But, I loved him and I hoped that one day he would wake up and see how amazing I am and we’d live happily ever after in a Brooklyn brownstone with our multi-nationality Caribbean-American children.

I was delusional as fuck.

I’m not usually one to publicly share how a man has dogged me out, but after watching this most recent episode of Love Island USA, my heart broke for Aniya. Everyone watching that show wanted her to leave KC, but who wants to listen to the cacophony of your peers saying to leave someone when you care so deeply. I don’t believe she was being stupid. I’ve said some of the words she’s said verbatim when speaking to that man. In every opportunity, I chose him - much to the chagrin of my close friends. I hoped that one day he would understand how much of myself I had sacrificed to love him and that those sacrifices would be rewarded in the form of a loving relationship. He checked all my boxes and consistently told me I checked all of his, so I was always confused as to why I wasn’t being treated like it.

When we met, I wasn’t in the best place in my life. I was freshly laid off from a cushy tech job, fresh out of a relationship with a West African demon, and had gained some weight during a health scare. Internally I knew I was still a baddie, but I also make videos for a living and people were quick to comment on my appearance (publicly and anonymously on Reddit). I can’t act like the comments didn’t tear me to shreds emotionally, and he came in at just the right time. A friend of multiple friends, our paths seemed intertwined on a myriad of levels. We were barely one degree separated from each other. A year prior to our meeting, he had followed me on Instagram. That was my first mistake. He was legitimately a fan of my content and in retrospect, that gave him the upper hand. He knew what I would like and molded himself into it. When I brought this up, he denied this was ever the case. I still think he won.

A cross-country distance felt like a quick ride on the A train. He was charming and funny and I felt light and airy when I spoke to him. So when he came back to the city for work that December and put out some of his best efforts for our dates, I was on cloud 9. I quickly fell off that cloud after we became intimate and he woke up the next morning to tell me he didn’t know what he wanted.

I left dejected, confused, and feeling like I got swindled out of my cat. We chatted a few days later where I explained how I felt and he gave me the runaround. We ended the call saying we’d remain friends because of how many mutuals we shared. Second mistake - we were never truly friends. We were two people attracted to each other who shared some friends and in trying to say we’d remain friends - it was always a setup for failure.

For years, we ended up in the same cycle. One person would text the other for something mundane - career help, a restaurant rec, a travel plan. A few weeks would pass and we’d be right back to flirtatious banter and right back in each other’s beds.

Other men came and went in my life. A classmate, a friend, a young man who genuinely loved me in the way I wanted to be loved, but I always returned to the familiar. There was always a sliver of hope within me that we’d figure this out. That crumb of optimism began to destroy my social interactions with my friends. Any time there was an update in my life, an update on my status with him soon followed. My best friend told me not to talk about it because he was tired of giving me advice that I wouldn’t follow. I knew he was completely over hearing me cry about this man when he said to me “In the small chance this does work out, I’m not showing up to your wedding and smiling. He hates you.”

I ignored the advice of someone who knows me like I know my own mind. My rationale was how could he know that this man who he barely interacts with hates me? Spoiler alert, he was correct.

My friends begged me to go no contact with him and move on. They begged me to put myself out of my misery, but the hopeless romantic in me wanted love and I wanted it by any means necessary.

Obviously, that’s the daddy issues talking. I was so afraid of being abandoned (again) that I accepted what was happening to me. It became part of the fabric of my existence. My friends begged me to cut the cancer that was this man out of my life. I didn’t listen, and instead found myself having even more touch points with him. When I started my MBA internship in his field, he became a quasi-mentor, helping me shape the narrative of my career. I depended on him. I trusted him.

When I returned home from San Francisco throughout the summer - sure enough I ended up in his bed. But this time, I lied like a motherfucker. “No, I’m not seeing him. We’re not chatting.” Those were the official comms. I knew my friends wouldn’t approve. I lied like my life depended on it. Unconsciously, because I knew I was dead ass wrong.

What business did I have with a man who told me to tell my therapist about him? A man who forgot my birthday? A man who tried to rectify the forgotten birthday by sending flowers ten days later? A man who asked me to help him pick an apartment and subsequently didn’t invite me to his housewarming? A man who tried to sleep with me the night my grandmother died? A man who showed his ass and hole at every opportunity he got? I had no business with him.

I knew he was a supervillain when I told my most villainous homeboy about him and laid out all the details. He looked me dead in my face and said “oh he’s evil.” Mind you, that homeboy is the subject of another woman’s Substack. He’s legit a supervillain and was able to easily identify villainy in another man. It truly takes one to know one.

I hit my breaking point a few weeks ago, at a party of all places. Me being me, I was behind the DJ booth (where a baddie should be). He was also in attendance and ignoring me by claiming he was working. He wanted to be Mr. Bitches that night and when he had the opportunity to speak after ignoring me, he first told me I looked good (duh), bought me a drink, and then said he heard I may be moving into his building (mind you, it has 30 floors). Something the two of us had discussed 6 months prior and something he recently heard from a mutual close friend as I prepped for my move back to Brooklyn. This was not news to him.

He made a joke that he was happy I was moving in and he didn’t have to pay the rent. Like we were ever in a secure enough space where moving in together was an option. On this night, his usual humor wasn’t working on me. Something shifted as I went from sober to inebriated and I felt real audacity rising within me. Wasn’t shit funny to me.

He made a joke that I didn’t fuck with him because I didn’t respond to his last text. I chose to ignore that text because I felt myself falling back into old habits. I countered by telling him that he’s the one who doesn’t fuck with me because while I make efforts to include him in my community, he actively excludes me from his.

This is a great time to tell you that I found out I wasn’t invited to his housewarming because his haircut schedule revealed his treachery. He gets his hair cut every two weeks, like clockwork. One day, he came to my apartment and naturally, things got horizontal. As we’re cuddling I realize this is an off week for him to have a fresh haircut. I compliment the cut. I’m not a hater, his barber does good work. When I asked what the occasion was, he simply responded “my housewarming.” To which I replied, “oh, when is it?” “Yesterday” was his response. My flabbers were gasted in a way I truly can’t put into words. He was in my bed, in such a vulnerable position, and pretty much confirmed to me that I’m not a part of his community. However, he was so bold to say that I was the one who had distaste for the other party.

That’s what was top of mind when he looked me in my face in a packed club while the DJ played some miscellaneous 2020s rap track that I couldn’t place. I simply asked him if he was hosting a cookout the next day (my friends were invited). He responded, “who told you?” Like if it was a secret. My presence was welcomed in his bed and in his phone, but not in the community we mutually share.

We argued in that club for what felt like an eternity. So many songs played and I could feel the tequila revving up even louder inside me, so I left. A few moments later, he texted me asking if I wanted a ride home. He was clearly offering a different kind of ride.

The next morning we chatted, where I had to remind him of everything that was said because he claims he was too drunk to remember. He wanted me to come to his apartment to have this conversation. I guess a phone call wasn’t good enough. The details of our conversation beat the hell out of a dead horse. All I know is I lost my mind for most of it, and when I found my marbles, I asked him one simple question. If your best female friend told you our story, would you want her to stay in this?

He stumbled on his words and put together a slightly incoherent response about how she would need to make her own choices and he wouldn’t insert himself in it. He was lying. He loves that girl like a sister and he wouldn’t want her to live like I had lived.

We hit the climax of our conversation when I told him “there’s only so many times I can hear you say you love me and know that you’re lying to my face.” He quickly countered with “why would I keep telling you I love you if you don’t believe me?”

I wanted to see his side. I knew I’d held on to the past and couldn’t shake the hurt that had plagued me for so long, but he also couldn’t shake treating me like shit. It was the classic case of anxious attachment meeting avoidant attachment. He ran when things got real. I chased when he ran. We were perfectly designed to destroy each other. His vice was detachment and he was my vice.

I hung up that call knowing that it was the last time. It felt different, final. Still inside me, there was a little piece feeling like I had invested too much and I should see the reward of my pain. The sunk cost fallacy was kicking my ass. After all of that, I still couldn’t fully let go.

Until someone said to me exactly what I had said to him. In a very long and emotional conversation, a man I truly care for said “this is how you know I love you. If you were any other woman, I wouldn’t accept this.”

At that moment, I realized that I had internalized this evil man’s behavior. I became him to someone else. Years ago, I asked him if he thought he was a good man, just for me to be a wicked woman to someone else. I blocked him as soon as those words were said to me. The no contact my friends had prayed for finally came true.

I won’t act like I don’t miss him sometimes. Not because I miss the experience - that was clearly hell on earth - but because when someone becomes a part of your life for so long, it’s hard to give up their ghost.

I genuinely tried and it didn’t work. I’ve spent a lot of time wondering why I didn’t get the result I was looking for. I’m not ashamed to say I made a valiant effort. It’s not a moral failing on my part. It’s on him. He knew he wouldn’t be good to me, but knew exactly how and when to come back into my life. False hope is one hell of a drug and it can make even the most competent woman insane.

All that to say, I understand Aniya. Who among us hasn’t loved a man with a fuck ass beard?

Beauty Insiders save anywhere from 10-30% with the code SPRINGSALE.

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• Shampoo & Conditioner: Amika has the haircare game on lock, in my opinion. I alternate between the Hydro Rush Shampoo & Conditioner and The Kure Shampoo & Conditioner. My hair is beyond damaged… I fear I love putting the flat iron on 400 degrees. These Amika lines are literally the only thing keeping me from having the most miniscule leave-out on the planet.

• Treatments: The K18 mask & Olaplex No.3 pre-shampoo treatment are perfect if you heat style or color your hair. Don’t use them at the same time though! You definitely need to alternate these weekly.

• Styling: As a girl who usually has extensions, I’m focused on ensuring my hair doesn’t revert and that my extensions never look oily. The IGK serum keeps my hair smooth even after a workout & the dry shampoo is a lifesaver in between full sew-in refreshes. I also love the Drybar Final Call mist! Serums can sometimes weigh your hair down, but Drybar’s is a spray so it keeps the hair light. Lastly, the Ouai leave-in spray is my go-to when I have braids. That kanekalon dries my hair out sooooo bad, but Ouai brings that moisture back in.

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• Cleanser: I’m a firm believer in the double cleanse and I don’t love makeup wipes. I alternate cleansing balms depending on my skin’s needs. For me, it’s either Farmacy or Elemis. I switch my cleanser up a decent amount, but I almost always come back to the Youth to the People Superfood Cleanser. It’s been in my routine since college. I’ll likely die using it.

• The In-Between: Transparently, the best treatment you give your skin is getting a tretinoin prescription from your dermatologist. In the event that’s not an option - Laneige toner, followed by the Caudalie Vinoperfect serum or Eadem spot treatment, and the occasional Biodance mask can give you that glow.

• Moisturizers: Rhode barrier restore cream for daytime moisture, Aestura for deep moisture, Rhode barrier butter if you want to wake up the next day looking like a glazed donut. Mrs. Bieber definitely has some serious products on her hands. Lips need moisture too - Ole Henrikson and Rhode are my faves.

• Sunscreen: Kiehl’s if you want a lighter feel, Innisfree for a traditional sunscreen feel.

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• Treatments: I have so much body hyperpigmentation. That, coupled with strawberry skin on my legs has set me out on the pursuit of skin greatness. I’ve been using the Topicals soap to lighten hyperpigmentation on my inner thighs & the First Aid Beauty KP scrub to lessen the chicken skin. It’s been a few months and I’m seeing so much improvement. For ingrown hairs, I’m loyal to the Topicals high roller serum.

• Shower: Cyklar is one of them ones! The Bergamot bodywash is my new obsession and leaves me feeling so soft after the shower.

• Moisture: L’Occitane for my hands! I keep it next to my bathroom sink and it’s always a hit with my guests. Josie Maran for the body! This body butter gives an insane glow, you honestly don’t need to put on a shinier oil.

• Sunscreen: Supergoop’s Play Sunscreen sprays on so light. Truly, you don’t even feel it so you can’t overheat in the hot sun. A win is a win.

• Eyes: 90% of the time, I use my hyperpigmentation as eyeshadow. The other 10% of the time, I’m using the ABH x Jackie Aina palette. I’m a simple girl when it comes to the eyes - a little ABH brow gel & the Fenty mascara get the job done.

• Base: Haus Labs foundation, Huda Beauty color corrector, NARS concealer, Rhode pocket blush, and a little lip liner from Ms. Charlotte Tilbury give me the perfect base every time. Top that off with the Huda Beauty powder and I’m set (almost). I’m loyal to the matte nude look.

• Final Touches: Charlotte Tilbury, you will always be famous - thanks to this setting spray. I’ll try new things, but I always come back to her.

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• This T3 curling iron is my go-to for when I have a sew-in. This 1.5 inch size gives me the best curls. I set them with rollers and they stay all day.

• Silk (NOT SATIN) pillowcase to protect your hair at night. My bonnet always comes off, so I like this for double protection.

• The Dyson Airwrap - no notes needed. This is the Beyoncé of hair tools.

• GHD flat iron. I fried my hair using titanium flat irons. Since I switched to ceramic, my hair is so much healthier.

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The Sephora Sale runs through 4/20! All my faves are linked on my ShopMy. Use code SPRINGSALE for $$ off. You must be a Beauty Insider to qualify (it’s a free signup)! Happy shopping!!

But that same audacity has been the driving force behind everything I’ve built. It got me a full scholarship for both my undergraduate and graduate degrees. It’s earned me over seven figures as a content creator. It puts me in rooms I never imagined I’d be in. And it all comes down to one thing: I have the audacity to ask.

Let me start from the beginning.

I’ve never been afraid to ask for what I want. My first internship was at Sprayground (yes, the colorful backpacks) when I was 16. I cold called them and got connected directly to their CEO. I got a letter of recommendation for college from the mayor of my city because I started cold emailing him about how to improve NYC public schools. I have always lacked fear. I have always lacked shame. And that has served me better than almost any other skill I have.

When I was in high school, my mom and I had a sobering conversation about college affordability. She’s a nurse, owned a modest home in southeastern Queens, and was able to care for her only child. This is a normal middle-class life in New York City. To FAFSA, she was a rich woman who could contribute $70K a year toward my education. I still wonder if they factored in the cost of living in their calculations.

My mother was honest: she wanted me to go to the best school possible, but she couldn’t pay sticker price and keep the lights on. She could contribute, just not the full cost of attendance. My only option was merit aid. I found out about the Posse Foundation. Full-tuition, need-blind, for leaders - that sounded like me so that was what I was going to get.

I did my research - tons of calls with Posse students and alumni, studying how the interview process was structured, understanding exactly what they were looking for. In fact, I had a notebook where I crafted my entire application narrative. I was fully convinced that I was going to Vanderbilt University as a Posse Scholar. God himself couldn’t have told me that I was wrong.

That summer, my mom and I visited Vanderbilt. While we were there, I struck up a conversation with an admissions officer - one I already knew covered my geographic area. After a few minutes, I asked the question I believe secured my spot almost six months in advance: By any chance, do you know which administrators choose the Posse Scholars?

She gave me their names. I went home and researched everything I could find on each of them. One of them was a big golfer, the other loved modern art. Well I liked going to the museum and I knew who Tiger Woods was so it was a start!

I already knew at 17 that merit is not enough - this is a personality-driven game. Do people like you? Do they want to help you? I found common ground with the interviewers and walked into that room shmoozing with my whole chest. A fully paid degree was on the line. I had to get it done.

I graduated from Vanderbilt in 2020 as a Posse Scholar with zero student debt.

I followed that up with a job at Google, a career as a content creator that started because I posted about that job at Google, and an MBA from Columbia Business School. Oh, and I had to fight my way off the waitlist for multiple M7 programs, but I wasn’t going to accept no when I wanted yes. I even used this same audacity to get sponsored to go to Coachella just a few days ago! Audacity compounds over time.

For a lot of people, audacity is innate. But for those of you who need to learn it, here’s what I know:

1. Decenter shame and fear

Shame and fear are the two biggest audacity killers. The moment you start worrying about what people will think of you for asking, you’ve already lost. The worst thing someone can say is no, and a no just puts you back at zero, exactly where you already were. You lose nothing by asking.

2. Do your homework before you open your mouth

Audacity without preparation is just senseless babble. Before I walked into that Posse interview, I’d spent months researching. I knew the structure, the vibe, what they were looking for, and I used all of it to engineer my moment. Showing up informed tells people you’re serious. It also means you know exactly which door to knock on.

3. Make people want to help you

Merit is not enough. People help people they like. People open doors for people they feel connected to. When I was at Google, I interviewed tons of folks. We rated interviewees on Googleyness - in the simplest sense it meant do I like this person?

Find commonality, be warm, be memorable. It’s human nature for someone to prefer a person they enjoyed talking to. Be that person.

4. Ask a better question

Most people ask for things too directly, too soon, and get shut down. It’s like asking for a job referral at the first coffee chat. Think about what information, access, or introduction would actually move the needle and ask for that first.

5. Get comfortable with the follow-up

Audacity doesn’t end at the first ask. I fought my way off multiple M7 waitlists because I refused to treat a soft no like a final answer. A waitlist is not a rejection, it’s an invitation to keep advocating for yourself. Always Follow up. Persistence signals that you actually want it. Most people quietly disappear and wonder why nothing changed.

Audacity is simple. Do you believe that what you want is worth asking for and do you ask for it? Most people are one conversation or ask away from something that could change their life. They just never start.

I’ll be the first to admit that the legacy nightlife era of my teenage years (yes, you read that right) is mostly a memory. The age of tight mini-dresses, 5-inch heels, and rappers doing 15-minute sets in clubs downtown is over. RIP to 1Oak and Up & Down.

2013 to 2020 was a distinct beast. Today, that energy has been traded for more intimate functions - being body-to-body in a venue with no sections. Sneakers, crop tops, and low-rise jeans are the uniform now.

We can blame the pandemic for the pivot to comfort, but honestly - it’s an upgrade. I for one, do not miss my feet hurting at the end of the night. I do love a heeled night out while on vacation, though!

Becoming of legal drinking age in 2019 meant nothing to me because my fake ID was a Hall of Famer. Shoutout IDGod because the Cedonis of New Jersey, Illinois, and California had an incredible run. I was from Short Hills, New Jersey, Winnetka, Illinois, and La Jolla, California long before my ID said New York, NY.

By the post-lockdown summer of 2021, I was a darty specialist and an Everyday People regular. That quickly became old though as ticket prices got higher and the venues became more packed.

But as we settle into 2026, two universal truths govern New York nightlife (in my opinion):

The Two Rules of NYC Nightlife

1. Trust the DJ, not the venue.

   A spot can be the best place on Friday and a ghost town on Saturday (I’m looking at you Lot 45). Follow the talent, not the address.

2. The cheaper the ticket, the better the vibes.

   A party shouldn’t cost more than $30. If I’m paying more than that, there better be a drink ticket or something! In full transparency, as a woman - most nights are free. So if you want me to come up off my hard earned dollars… I’m leaving here with something.

As a certified outside warrior, I’m hyper-critical. I want to dance, I want innovation, and I’m not afraid to say "kill the DJ" if the mix is bad.

Above all, I’m Black, and I want a Black-ass experience when I go out - especially if I’m spending my money.

The Selectors:

I’m not ranking these because they all have great nights. If I see these names on a flyer, I’m there to shake the little bit of ass I have.

• Heavy Hitters: They’re consistent and their follower counts (and event capacities) reflect it. Say their names to anyone under 35, and you’ll hear a resounding approval.

  • Kendollaz, Showcase, Flygerian, King Szn

• Vibe Curators: To quote Beyoncé, “in a dark dark corner of a basement party.” These DJs excel in the intimate environments of a body to body function.

  • More Soup Pls, Chvmeleon, Red Corvette, Spinelli, Spongito

• Trust the Process Spinners: I’d describe these DJs as legitimate fans of music. You might hear something completely different than what you’re used to, but you’ll dance all night.

  • Mahogany, DJ HolUp, Ohso, DJ Saige, DJ Complete, Svpply, Milhouse

• The Wildcard: You never know what to expect with this one, but it’s always great. It’s hilarious that one of the biggest curators of Black NYC nightlife is a white guy from the suburbs, but I have to give him his flowers. He understands the assignment.

  • Moochie

The Functions:

Party groups/organizations/collectives (whatever they’re calling themselves these days) are the ultimate gamble. Many scale too fast, fumbling the guest experience in a rush to monetize. Then, when someone complains on TikTok, they spend more energy arguing in the comments than fixing the issues at the door. Here is my 2026 report card:

• Elevate Social: This absolutely skews younger. If you’re 30+, you’ll probably feel like a chaperone. The last time I went, I met someone celebrating their 21st birthday (jumpscare). But the DJs are solid and the energy is high. I’ll likely age out soon, but for now, it’s a staple.

• South House: I’ve started and ended every summer here. I used to hate Elsewhere because of other parties (cough cough - Everyday People), but South House uses the space better. South House v. Naija House is far superior to the traditional southern events. Sorry, not sorry - I’m a New Yorker.

• Gyalifest: I once got so lit at a Gyalifest event that I fell and sprained my ankle. I regret nothing. It’s a heavy Caribbean flair; if your waistline is stiff, stay home.

• Ballads and Bottles: For the R&B lovers. If you want to scream Mary J. Blige at the top of your lungs while being held by a stranger you just met, this is your home.

• Suede: If you can actually get into Record Room on a Tuesday (which is a feat in itself), you won’t regret it. Suede is the most consistent good night in the city right now.

At the end of the day, New York is always going to find a way to shake a little ass. it just won’t be where the tourists (or newly minted transplants) are looking. Eventually, we all become the “older” crowd at the function. I’m sure there’s someone reading this thinking this is some old hoe shit. But the mission stays the same: finding that one room where the DJ is excellent and everybody wants to dance.

If you’re still pressed about the club scene from ten years ago - stay on the couch, take care of your kids, and water your plants. The rest of us will be outside. Not for nothing, if you can’t find the vibe that works for you, you’re probably the problem.