Gerasimus and his wife were brought up in the same small territory; a friendship story that evolved romantically: ‘Something that came by luck, the stars, by the moon I don’t know. Like thunder,’ he tells me. His Siberian husky blue eyes are twinkling and I feel grateful for our discourse already.

Such is a snippet of humanity that we go about most of our modern-lives missing. Attached to our AirPods, consistently plugged in and absorbed by notifications, I wonder how many striking, serendipitous and memorable interactions are left unwritten. On a late arrival to my hotel in Athens, my tiredness is eclipsed by an exchange at check-in. Having never been one for astrology, I suddenly find my whole profile explained to me. ‘In just 5 minutes, and a few details, I can tell you everything,’ Thomas assures me confidently. Duly, I spin off date, place and time of birth. ‘Ah…we’re looking at an overthinker’. I think I’m ready to be shown to my room.

A ferry ride across the Aegean later, and I find myself on Folegandros, an island laden with the beauty of its natural landscape. The next days a whirl of walks, waffles, Greek dancing, Raki and the calming sound of a ferocious wind, muffled from the inside of my hotel room. I snap 4 photos and barely look at my screen; Opal is proud of me. On receipt of my weekly debrief, I am told I have saved 12 years of my life that would otherwise have been gobbled by a glaring rectangle.

With the end of summer fast approaching, I reflect on what I wish to take forth with me. Last week marked my one year move to Miami anniversary; I take some time to re-read old journal entries. It’s true that Americans have a talent for striking up conversations with strangers; I laugh at old characters and surprise interactions that had been briefly forgotten. Moments that coloured my day-to-day and ignited me with fresh and enthused feelings for the new chapter that lay ahead of me. Amidst my return to Madrid, a focus on graduating and job-seeking, I get stuck in a self-administered rat-race. My time in Greece resets that for me, a zoom-out from the absurdity we so easily get sucked into.

Simply to be with everything that sat in front of me; a form of presence in which no achievement was necessary, no expectation or anticipation for the next great thing. A kind of release - and a reminder of the importance of building up my own bank of good stories, in the same way I have grown up hearing my parents share their own with me.

‘Well how long has it been?’, I question over my next sip of coffee.

The epidemic of constant communication; the dearth of mystery in modern-day love stories. Where eagerness is assessed through reply times, anxious attachment is born of bread-crumbing and we question the true place of a potential significant other who can just as quickly turn apparition in the form of ghosting.

Last April, my dear Omi waved Auf Wiedersehen after a sudden and unexpected onset of pneumonia. My first time facing real grief, I am learning to approach it with a sort of curiosity. I feel her presence in the most unexpected moments. Somedays during the stretch at the end of a yoga class, others walking the familiar streets of Madrid, still too the unfamiliar ones of Paris. There is no set timing or place to process such a thing. Perhaps its better, this way I know her energy will stay with me indefinitely.

One of the most pertinent moments following her passing was an emotional and physically imperishable discovery. Stuffed at the bottom of a plastic bag, concealed by layers of clothing, lay hundreds of handwritten letters.

My Omi fled from a small Austrian mountain town to pursue her living in New York dreams; a move I hope myself to one day make concrete. Along the way, at a nightclub in London, she met the man I am blessed to call my Grandpa. A successful lawyer ready to settle down, but Omi had never been one to uproot the possibilities of her own life for a man; she continued on to the USA.

It seems that one meeting was all that was necessary for strong and shared feelings, feelings that grew as they began to write to one another to bridge the distance and remain in touch. The rest of the story is recounted a little blurry, but what remains certain is that it all ended successfully, with a proposal that took place over the transatlantic telephone and 64 solid years married.

I remained hesitant to dive into their writing, it felt like a breach of privacy. Though from the few words that I read, the letters flare with themes of a true romance story; excitement, mystery, questioning, updating, competition and maybe even a little jealousy. I began reflecting on an era of courtship sin online matches, tactical texting and the first response when filling in friends being ‘let’s see his IG’.

Physical distance combined with an inability to reach someone immediately generates a kind of yearning. Perhaps it was healthier, such is a form of delayed gratification that makes an eventual meeting ten times as sweet. Letters do not arrive at the rate of WhatsApp notifications- they take time and reflection, thought and attention, embarking upon their own journeys and living on to tell stories. No such thing as monitoring the likes of a story, early courtship maintained its mystery. One’s own day, schedule, movements, outfits, and social events kept entirely private, I guess provoking the need for a good imagination. Most importantly, no incessant need to check for a notification.

I realised rather quickly I didn’t need to discover what lay within their writing, the core message was sitting directly in front of me. Letters are a lost art in which to communicate our feelings. And it’s not just for romantic relations either. There sits a large silver box in an overflowing cupboard of adolescent clothes back home. On it my sixteen-year old self inscribes ‘PRECIOUS MEMORIES, DON’T OPEN.’ Underlined. A somewhat cringe attempt to conjure up my own sort of mystery.

On my last visit to London, I spend some time rummaging through polaroids, small trinkets and branded ribbons of the big-girl purchases I saved up to buy. Yet amongst everything, it was the words that held the most meaning. A time-capsule back to birthdays, bonne chance for boarding school, mocks and A-levels. Graduations, driver’s license and every other milestone in which my family delivered words of congratulations. The post-it notes I returned to from my father after a night out, ‘Welcome back home Bal, we missed you’, and my very own envelopes where Omi’s name still remains, always followed by a kiss, her writing ever distinct.

Perhaps the best gifts truly don’t come in the form of material things. Knowing that someone, somewhere, has sat and taken the time to write to you, translating thoughts into words that can always exist, might just be the most heartfelt gesture of them all. If this piece inspires you to do anything, I hope it is to pick up a pen and get back to writing. To your future self, to the ones you love, to express gratitude or a note of thanks, I can assure you it’s bound to have a lasting effect.

I entertain the phone call, only to find myself hanging up and harbouring more questions than before; an expected pain point there is no choice but to take full accountability for. My mother cannot be considered as forgiving with these things: ‘Do not text me about him, I don’t want to hear it!’, she draws the line with a firm decline to my request for counsel.

Guilty, my frivolous Friday night telephone exchange can probably be labelled a waste of time for all parties involved. On top of a rocky casita in Ibiza a weekend later, I find myself amused and intrigued by a timely description in Anthony Bourdain’s ‘Kitchen Confidential’.

“For me, the cooking life has been a long love affair, with moments both sublime and ridiculous. But like a love affair, looking back you remember the happy times best—the things that drew you in, attracted you in the first place, the things that kept you coming back for more.”

Nostalgia. That good old friend who nudges us to scour back through years of camera roll on plane journeys, read old journal entries and occasionally, pick up phone calls from individuals who occupy no place in present realities. And yet it is not just for people that we experience these kinds of sentiments. ‘I miss being 17’, I recount to my older brother as we pass through old Snapchat memories. ‘Lou, you hated being 17’, he reminds me abruptly.

I’m nostalgic for my days in Miami. Morning walks around Brickell Key, a break the bank Pura Vida smoothie and a campus that bloomed with palm trees. A time that I realised, even on my return trip in May, I will never experience in the same manner again. As I graduate from my bachelor’s degree, I mentally prepare to be bulldozed by the same load of feelings.

To look back and wonder if we lived something fully, in order not to feel the sting in the form of a rose tinge. For people, for places, for ages and other events of the past, are we programmed to glamorise? Do we automatically push aside the more difficult times, the mistreatment and those moments that made us say goodbye in the first place?

When it comes to relationships, I reflect on several occasions spent entertaining old chapters I knew deep down were no longer meant for me. I like to blame the optimist; a hope for change, the belief in second chances. I see it with my friends when they slip into post first-cocktail dinner conversation: ‘I’m talking with him again’. A statement never announced too proudly and a story of which one can normally predict the ending. Why? Because we already re-lived it one too many times already.

There is a certain shot of familiar dopamine that comes from engaging in such an activity. Perhaps it is felt greatest with the chapters that feel unfinished, or those that never truly started. Nostalgia has us living through an ideal fantasy, attaching a hopeful state to something that can never truly be. I disclaim this to be the case for people who pose a negative or toxic impact on our emotional wellbeing, not positive long-distance could-be lovers or right-person wrong-time theories.

The challenge therefore: to be out with the old entirely, so that we may leave space for new and ten times better to unfold. Long before our instant-gratification infused and heavily distracted society, Alan Watts was a predictor of a certain suffering. That is, the suffering of being disassociated from the present and true reality. In his book, ‘The Wisdom of Insecurity’, he notes the marvellous moment one is to understand the futility of living through memory:

“Like words, memories never really succeed in “catching” reality. Memories are somewhat abstract, being a knowledge about things rather than of things. Memory never captures the essence, the present intensity, the concrete reality of an experience. It is, as it were, the corpse of an experience, from which the life has vanished. What we know by memory, we know only at secondhand.” (Watts, 1951, p.91 )

Is it a waste of time to walk down memory lane? I would argue not necessarily. I am grateful for every chapter and every character in my story thus far, each experience a stepping stone to the Cordy I am today. Though, the somewhat deceptive nature of nostalgia should be handled with a certain awareness- its ideal ‘could-have-been’s’ not to be blurred with harsher realities.

For the longer we yearn for yesteryear, the less we are able to open ourselves up to the opportunities, places, faces and ages of right now. Perhaps some chapters can only fully end when we finally decide to stop re-reading them, a liberty we owe to our present selves and a particular kind of self-respect in the case of poor-treatment.

To wave a big old ciao to toxic people of the past not just physically, but mentally too. To appreciate the memories, learn from the lessons, but let go of any other hold entirely. And a strong note to self, not to pick up the next phone call but instead to confidently shut the door. Your entire friendship group might just breathe a sigh of relief and say thank you.

Despite the emergence of new friends, the past month has also been clouded by the re-emergence of a certain foe. Its appearance crept in slowly, sneaking through hard-wired defence mechanisms until confrontational dinner conversations with friends provoked final surrender. It was true, my mind had resorted back to running my least favourite hamster wheel. Marked by the return of incessant mental natter, unproductive thought processes and regressive coping mechanisms.

The trigger? Perhaps rooted in transition. ‘But I worked so hard to be better, I don’t want to go back there’, I whine during my last session of acupuncture. I hear the prick of the next dainty needle, positioned just below my belly button, a kind of remedy that results from subjecting myself to human pin-cushion form. I set up the statement pre-empting solace in what I know will be a wise response from a very wise man.

Dr Cuong has shared the power of Chinese medicine with my entire family. Beyond his successful London acupuncture practice, I respect him for always sharing the facts in the simplest state they can be. ‘Would you eat 10 oranges in one sitting?’, he asks me after I proudly spin off my new and curated supplement list . I shake my head. ‘So why exactly are you taking this Vitamin C?’. I save my breath, knowing that wellness for him has always operated via a ‘less is more’, and ‘consume things in their natural form’ philosophy.

I began exploring acupuncture 4 years ago. The earlier sessions driven by a desperation to clear my acne and offset the physical and mental costs of chronic fatigue. Symptoms I forget once ruled my day-to-day, until Dr Cuong brings it to my attention. ‘But you are not back there, and it is impossible you ever will be,’ he reminds me. ‘The passage of time does not allow for these things, your starting point will always be completely different’.

The fear of things returning to the way they were once were, especially with regards to health and recovery, is not uncommon. Amidst tumultuous times, waking up and getting through the working day can feel like arming up to go to war with one-self. As the adage goes, each person is fighting a battle you probably know nothing about, from the small strains of the day-to-day, to larger life transitions and decisions.

‘Don’t stress Cordelia’, the words delivered to me at the office table on Friday. ‘Take some belly breaths and ground your feet on the carpet.’ A minute later, I receive a Spotify link to Cleveland Francis on my WhatsApp. It is a blend of gratitude and warm familiarity that runs through me.

Coping better than before can only be developed and iterated on with experience. Though I find myself more educated and aware than the Cordy of four years ago, I can't help but believe I’ll always carry fragments of her testing times with me. Yet the month of June has proven to me a quiet, more unassertive kind of progress, one in which I can finally recognise that I am dealing with things differently. It sparks a proud feeling.

In pursuit of ticking off the next checkpoint on the mountain, we often forget to glance back and acknowledge just how much we have scaled the terrain in the meantime. We are not back at ‘Square One’, albeit our minds try to convince us of otherwise.

“Where are you?’, my friends like to ask when they see me entering an alternate mental reality. It is a question I find most grounding, and though I may not always be right here, neither am I back there. Knowing I never will be again, thanks to the levels of work that have been put in, is reassuring.

Tuning into such progress requires a momentary pause, a second to give ourselves some grace and a good old pat on the back. An action none of us do enough, particularly when dialled in on the demands of the next great goal or fulfilling life thing.

To acknowledge that recovery is not linear. To accept that old feelings, even habits, can always resurface. But that this past does not have as much power over you as you might think, for there is always a level of progress that exists, even if at first you don’t recognise it.

Two weeks ago I had my last ever day at IE; I reflect on many first, second and third year university nights spent saying no to a mixture of plans, people and parties. A non-existent social battery and sufferer of great health anxiety, the only metric that mattered to me was progress, the next achievement, and how acutely I could monitor my body. Gracias a Miami, a lot of this ‘toxic productivity’ finally changed for me.

I am a firm believer that music constitutes a great energy, part hypnotic when mixed correctly. A notion I was first introduced to in Ibiza last summer, a pilgrimage of Pacha, DC 10, Prospa, Chris Stussy, and recently split up Sparrow & Barbossa. It was in a basement and a half deep, throughout the first hours of last Saturday morning, that I came into contact with the same, cathartic feelings.

In a room ruled by reverberations, no one is governed by the looming threat of a low recovery score. Lights, sound, and continuous movement bring about inherent presence, fortified by a no phone, no filming policy. The experience is communal, yet individual, privatised for many by the lenses of a good pair of sunglasses. ‘I will leave in one hour’, I tell myself on arrival. But with each song mustering up more energy than the last, I release the need for rigid timelines and embrace the sense of infinity that floats around me.

I was raised to fear the word ‘rave’. Immediate associations of drugs, accidents and other illegal activity translated into negative mental images for much of my adolescence. It is no doubt that a dangerous scene exists, and the need to be cautious, particularly as a woman, is evident. I do not engage with drugs; I have never felt a pressure, need, nor a want too, and I am mindful where I can to keep consistent watch over my drink. But in line with my most recent experiences, the perception I have of so called ‘rave culture’ has evolved into something much more positive.

Diary of a CEO host and entrepreneur Steven Bartlett currently finds himself under fire for the promotion of what is labelled ‘optimisation culture’. In a recent episode, Bartlett noted how a couple glasses of wine completely derailed his life for the next 3 days. It brought me back to one of my very first Substack posts: ‘Is Self-Care Self-Sabotage in Disguise?’, and our society’s increasing obsession with all kinds of optimisation. Rigid bedtimes, strict eating guidelines, timelines, and a relationship with a tracking device…

Movement is medicine, guaranteed, and alcohol is a toxin, granted, but the extent to which we are demonising any activity that could prevent the all-consuming optimisation chase arguably makes for its own sub-optimal case. A small disclaimer might be necessary: I am not talking here about instances where people most definitely would benefit from giving up alcohol; particularly with regards to poor mental health, cycles of addiction or just individual preference. Going sober can be a saviour. This article instead points to the bubbling up boiling pot of performance pressure, set to spill over at any moment.

Are we happier? With the tracking, the time-lining and need to see the daily routine of a thousand other human beings? Because if we are not, I would posit that we are in fact, not healthier. What happened to fun, dancing till dawn, a light buzz and a little bit of pleasure as equally key ingredients for a healthy and optimal life. When I am on my deathbed, I’m almost certain it won’t be my pilates filled mornings that hang on the wall of life’s favourite memories. It will be the people I met, the mysterious, spontaneous and fateful ways in which I met them, and the moments we shared. My apologies if I have to veer slightly off the self-optimisation track to achieve these.

Recent studies show that rave culture is on the rise. Amidst a falsely, ultra-connected society, the need, and want, for feelings of true community is more desperate and necessary than ever. Out of 4 very different university years, I attach many an epic memory to the dance floor. It is here that I struck up interesting conversations with then strangers, learnt the art, and importance of eye-contact, and crucially, forgot about the existence of my phone entirely. Perhaps I woke up the next day a little less green for productivity, but with invaluable memories and the release of small stresses and stale feelings.

The 20s are formative years and ones I already know I am going to miss. How can I continue to strive towards my career goals, fulfil my friendship and relationship hopes, be an attentive daughter & sister, stay kind to myself, true to values & important principles, live the blessing and glory of youth and carve out a solid foundation of health?

The list is long yet so is life itself. The need to optimise every one of these things, every single day, sounds wholly overwhelming, part terrifying and certainly deserving of a glass of wine…or two.

I am not insisting for a life made up of frequent raving and excess alcohol, nor should we abandon our health goals entirely. But I do recommend a viewing of Grease, Dirty Dancing & Saturday Night Fever, yes to the next tequila lime soda and to keep yourself open to the beat of a very good song and the next dance opportunity that comes along. To forgo a day in the pressure chamber and release the rules of optimisation culture, might just mean waking up a more optimised, relaxed and ultimately happier version of you.

The concept was not entirely new for me, I had dabbled already with heat exposure therapy. The cold plunge maybe not so much, but still a part of me was convinced that what lay ahead would be a relaxing activity. 6 turns of super-sauna and immersing myself in what I can only label Titanic level waters, I was not so sure exactly what I had signed up for. Still I gave it my best shot, because I have never been one to back out of a challenge (though I did consider when the hat I was forced to sport to protect my scalp appeared, it did not exactly go with the sultry sauna look I had envisioned for myself).

I think I sat partially silent for the car ride home. My body was in shock, or maybe it had just been woken up. My skin is red all over following the intensity of the temperature; he tells me it’s a normal reaction. I look it up later and find myself educated on vasodilation; my blood vessels had expanded to release heat and increase circulation to the skin. I felt giddy, and not only because I had enjoyed his company. Something in my nervous system had switched; I was simultaneously floating around space, yet the most grounded I had ever been. My thoughts felt clearer, my mind quieter and life a little lighter. & all it took was 1.5 hours of different temperature exposure torture.

I am now 7 months into my relationship with Banya. Whilst I was away from Spain, it seems the wellness scene continued evolving. And on my return to Madrid, quite the magical location awaited me. Riela is described as a modern space for an ancient ritual; if you haven’t seen it on my or any form of socials, I’d opt for the adjective astral. Designed by Barcelona based architecture company Oficina Satelíte, my first experience at Riela felt like a surprise flight upgrade. Banya wasn’t just physically beneficial anymore, my weekly practice had transformed into a visual experience too.

In Spanish, the verb ‘rielar’ means ‘to shimmer’. Founded by entrepreneur Tono Mandly, Riela prizes its own story: the reflection of the moon on the sea, and the desire to bring such a body of water to the city. The layout leads organically to a self-guided thermal circuit, incorporating a dry sauna, hammam, mineral hot pool, cold plunge and heated granite stones. Twice a week, every week, I replace an incessant mental monologue for the quiet comfort of the banya community. A space in which words are not necessary, connection is fostered through the shared feeling of physical and mental renewal.

Like most things in this life, your best guess at the password to unlocking true change would be consistency. Banya has roots steeped in history, tracing back to the ancient Greeks and 440 BC. In fact, it appears banya accompanied every major life event, from the moment we arrive on this planet, until the day in which we depart it:

The cultural importance of the banya goes beyond the day-to-day, with key events linked to the banyaritual. In the past, women gave birth in banyas, with midwives trained to deliver babies inside. Couples visited a banya when they married; and it was customary for Russian grooms to carry their new bride over the banya threshold to avoid birth complications. Even in death, banyas brought people together, with mourners gathering together in the banya after the funeral to ensure their loved ones were warm enough for their journey to the afterlife (Leonov, 2020).

Friends often ask what assisted me the most with my nervous system healing journey, banya always gets crowned in the top 3. The benefits (when you engage consistently), are huge. Deep muscle relaxation, improved circulation, reduced stress and detoxification. Isn’t that a beautiful list of life enhancements?

The more I engage with the health and wellness space, the more I am convinced it is a sector that does not have to be technical; I have never believed, for example, in tracking and micro-monitoring devices. My takeaway here? Reconnecting with ancient rituals might do one hell of a lot more for you than obsessing over last night’s recovery score. I urge you to explore, it might just be the next best thing you ever show up for.

I spent 7 formative years at an all girls high school. I saw eating disorders unfold slowly in front of me; it is here where I learnt the weight of the word calorie and watched as the break-time snack line gradually declined. This is not to say I blame my secondary school environment, it is not the sole contributor. Covid ushered in Chloe Ting’s 2-week abs, at home workouts and some kind of group obsession on embarking upon one’s own ‘glow up’ journey. I was sixteen.

In 2026, the smaller spiral crept in more subtly. But take one trip down the wrong for you page, and you’ll become suffocated all too easily. I still find it bizarre that large bouts of my friends’ days are lost watching someone else preparing and consuming different meals (most of which are either inaccurate, entirely false, remaining half consumed or sometimes completely untouched). We are sold stories to smaller at every swipe, supplements that will do the job for us and snacks to speed up the process.

I find myself here, in my twenty-third year, beginning the work to chip away at this noise. It is a noise I find exists for many if not most of the other women I meet. We joke about Devil Wear’s Prada’s ‘cube of cheese’, but in reality, the amusement from this line stems all too sadly from the fact that we relate to in our own lives.

Attempting to back-track on almost 7 years of damage somedays feels as futile as Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumb trail. Diet culture becomes so deeply ingrained, it can feel as if one is too far in to ever find a way out. As I approach the end of writing my undergraduate thesis, I note that the pattern replicates for women worldwide. Where did we all learn to be so insanely self-critical?

During difficult days I try to define where the culprit lies. Society? Social media? Magazines? Bad boyfriends? I recall seeing a guy who once questioned me in the most casual way about my suspected weight gain. A moment etched in my brain like a satin stain; the initial dirt mark rubbed away, but discolouration remains.

What we feed (or don’t feed) ourselves is not just physical, it’s mental too. Distinguishing between our own true voice and that of the inner self-critic is the first step to effective noise cancellation. Breaking out of diet-culture’s throttle requires active rewiring, but it is possible. I have lost many a precious memory to thoughts about food and my body, now I want to make a decision to leave those days firmly behind me.

If this Substack requires a conclusion, it is that a life spent chasing smaller is never going to make a person happy. and trust me I have done enough research on the topic to say this with some sort of finality.

This is not to say I support the toxic and poisonous modern-day food industry (a whole other Substack in and of itself, but if you want a place to start, I highly recommend this read), I will always advocate for healthy. But, to not be clouded by revolving thoughts of your own body, is truly a great place to be.

If you are lost with where or how to make a start, some of the following have served me:

• Your environment is a MAJOR factor. The way a sponge soaks up the material around it, the brain is programmed the same. Check the words and habits of friends, partners and family members, you might be surprised just how much centers around one’s physicality.

• Begin with your breath and the body will follow. Chronic over- or under-eating is often your nervous system pointing to a lack of safety. Breath steps in to activate our vagus nerve, bringing us back to an equilibrated state.

• The greatest diet to exist is allowing yourself anything you want because you trust yourself to eat the right amount. No restriction, no regret. Just hunger and fullness queues, the signals our bodies are born already programmed for.

• Make the moment matter. I am currently reading Emma Grede’s book, so to take some inspiration from my favourite and one of the most successful CEO’s: ‘I’d love to have all that time back. Can you imagine if at the end of your life, you had the opportunity to re-claim the 10 percent of your life spent on body dysmorphia?’ (Start With Yourself, p.72).

• A reminder that discipline will get you nowhere if it stems from self-hate. A topic I wrote about here.

• I mentioned to my mother the other day how terribly afraid I am of old age. ‘But imagine not being able to move around as you want to’, she tells me my future kids will get me through. But still… sometimes we forget how cool it is that we can step outside on the run, hop on the bike, dance through the night and wake up ready to do it all over again. Even the moves I curse during my reformer pilates, I’m sure I shall miss them some day. Movement is a gift we often forget to treat as one when we are so heavily focused on the results instead.

• Sleep…is so important. And one I’m still struggling with. A sustainable sleep routine can help quiet negative thoughts, chronic cravings and erratic emotions.

• Sometimes I change my lock-screen to my favourite photos of myself as a child, a reminder that when I’m being cruel to myself, I’m speaking to her the same way too.

• Gratituuudeeeeeeeeeee

• A big gulp of agua

• Fill your feed with friends you love, spaces that inspire and music that moves you. Not people making a cottage cheese curation or 2 ingredient negative two calorie healthy dessert cake.

• I remember at primary school the adjective ‘nice’ was considered the most ineffective one of them all. But I am bringing it back because we all need to be one hell of a lot nicer to ourselves. I make it my mission to say one nice thing to myself everyday, sometimes I believe it and others I don’t, but at least the positive mental programming is well and truly underway.

As terrifying as such a realisation can be, a life with no set plan in place, I am a firm believer that the way tends to appear when we remain brave enough to continue onwards in the face of uncertainty. In terms of placing my mind in the present moment, well it is already bursting with inspiration for my favourite season. Crucially, the wardrobe. Also crucially, the ever expanding list of boutique hotels I hope to tick off from my bucket list. And a couple of random extras to throw into the mood mix.

PIECES:

1. A sucker for a shirt dress. I think I could even go so far to nominate the style my favourite dressing up piece. Sultry, sexy and I guarantee the most comfortable you will ever feel on the dance floor. As soon as she comes back in stock, I will be hitting checkout immediately.

2. The Hunza G bikini. In continuation of our comfort theme; Ea introduced the swimsuit to me in Miami and now I am working on growing my own little collection. I love the colour contrast and straps of this one. MYT have a host of Hunza in their sale…act now.

3. A local Spanish swimwear brand that also caught my eye.

4. I think my search for sunnies will be lifelong. It’s true my Tom Ford addiction tends to kick in here, but for a convenient summer pair, I will return to Le Specs time and time again. My favourite shape here.

5. The cover-up, a top 3 critical summer piece. I recently discovered the brand Oséree, and this style sets you up nicely from morning till noon and a beach club filled afternoon.

PLACES:

6. Technically already ticked off my bucket list, but last summer I visited Athens for the first time. My A-level Classical Civilisation self was in awe of every surrounding, ancient sight and mythical story, but the overall enjoyment of the trip was bolstered by the bedroom in which I was able to stay. The largest bubble bath I have ever taken, the best hotel breakfast I have ever tasted and the coolest rooftop overlooking the Acropolis. I’m coming back for the Mona as soon as I have the chance.

7. During low-inspiration filled hours I dream about escaping to this hotel. I know I will make it one day, I fear when I do I will never want to leave. Or at least I’ll have to return a dozen more times to experience the character of each different bedroom.

8. Half of my heart and soul must have originated from Formentera. I feel such a sense of ease and a beaming happiness here, especially when I’m biking around or experiencing the early morning hours of the beach before the rest of the island rises. Formentera has had a host of new boutique hotel openings, this one has to be next up for me.

9. I can’t decide if I want to save this hotel to remedy a quarter life crisis or for my future honeymoon. Either way, I know when I finally arrive to such a rural Italian wonderland, all my time will be spent on the court below, followed by recovery time in their Roman Bathhouse.

RANDOM EXTRAS:

10. I have long been a VB Beauty fan. I think it’s just a general appreciation of anything Victoria Beckham, but two days ago she hard-launched her new Colour Wash Bronze Water Tints to Instagram. Bronzing drops but better. For the no makeup-makeup weeks that await, I am already sold.

11. Grease and Dirty Dancing. The ultimate summer loving movies. Big big fan of the summer romance.

12. The months of May onwards are perhaps the only time my hair is not subject to death by blow-dry. In an attempt to be more embracing of what God gave me, I lean on products from this brand to help manage my curls.

13. Body oil is a summer essential. This body oil specifically is a summer essential.

14. This song. And this one. And this one too, it feels like a little slice of a lover summer.

15. I have been waiting patiently to lose my Fara Homidi beauty virginity. I believe the time is now.

As a group of majority single ladies, we never find ourselves short for stories. But on this weekend’s menu, it wasn’t the men themselves who came up as the main point of discussion. ‘Do you think the amount of space that dating takes up in our lives is normal, and if so, how does it always end up as the same monotonous cycle?’ So the question is set-up to the counsel.

The desensitization of modern day dating; it is not the first time the theme has crossed my mind. In fact, a concept so contemporary it comes with a whole range of its own vocabulary. Pose a few of the following to your parents: situationship, seeing each other, story like, roster, casual, close friends, match, ghost, breadcrumb, it pains me to think the list might go on.

‘I don’t understand your generation’, my mother tells me when I call her for advice for what will clearly not be the final time. ‘It’s all too complicated’.

Complicated? Yes. Confusing? especially. Meant to be this way? Not necessarily.

I have always believed in the importance of a good meeting story. The reason I maintained my anti-app stance for so long, no I don’t want to turn to my future kids and tell them I swiped right and left to find that special someone. Though I appreciate that it can, and most definitely does work for a lucky few.

The release of a recent Jacob Elordi x Margot Robbie movie launched the topic of yearning into the media limelight. “Don’t yearn. Say everything you need to say to the people you love. Grab them. Kiss them.” - Jacob Elordi

If it truly is love that makes the world go round, why do we all have to spend so long acting as if we don’t give a damn?

Nothing that comes easy is exciting. Courtship has long been a careful equation of chase, timing and keeping one’s cards just a little bit close to their chest. Still we take risk, because without it, there is no chance of reward. But the calculations, rules , mind games and general lack of manners which encompass modern day cycles of dating arguably fuel exhaustion instead of excitement. It’s no surprise many of my friends find themselves fed up, ready to give up, or worse still, settling for partners they know deep down aren’t meant for them.

Two years ago I watched The Notebook for the first time. The moment is pasted in my mind as what Psychology labels a flashbulb memory. A movie that shifted something in my psyche, the depiction of chalance, the antithesis of casual, crazy for each other, a focus on obsession in its deepest form, the role of fate and the beautiful illustration that sometimes two people are simply destined to be.

We live in a society where our dating lives are beginning to be guided for us instead of by us. Maybe the word should actually be misled. Before, we may have turned to our close circle, or those we trust the most, to advise us in times of courtship crisis. Now, entire social media profiles exist to rally the single and confused community. ‘Do this, say that, disappear and they’re bound to come back’. Somehow forgetting that we are all born with the most clarifying compass of them all: the power of one’s own feelings and our dear friend labelled intuition.

With a 2026 narrative that crowns whoever can care less the winner, the coolest thing I might hope for is the magic of a mutual obsession that breaks such a mould. In fact, I would even go so far to consider anything less a waste of time, a lesson maybe, character development perhaps, but certainly not a cycle to find yourself stuck in.

Our time on this planet is precious, and so too is the energy we invest in others. Red flags, confusing feelings, one foot in and the other one out, conflicting mind-games as a new found dating normality, the signs we somehow always convince ourselves to avoid.

There awaits on the other hand a wonderful world of chalance, dating that adds a spring to your step and a level of presence you didn’t realise existed until you one day find yourself enlightened by such a connection. Right place, right time and holding out faith that amidst a population exceeding 8.3 billion, two individuals aren’t set to meet by accident.

It was amidst some truly low moments that my attention was brought to the legend of David Goggins. For those who aren’t familiar, Goggins, now a retired U.S Navy Seal, proves to us all that suffering does not and more strictly should not block us from becoming our very best selves. Through some sheer grit and determination, David Goggins overcame tribulations involving obesity, depression and a traumatic childhood to become the renowned ultra-endurance athlete and motivational speaker that he is today. There is too much to his story to summarise, I highly advise you to take your own deep dive.

As I began to analyse the problems I was experiencing at the time, I recognised how many of them originated from a level of cognitive dissonance. I had a strong image of the Cordy I wanted to be, of the values that were important to me, my behaviour towards myself and my treatment of others, yet in reality, I acted completely differently. Being in a state of frequent sadness and anxiety causes inevitable stagnancy. It is easy to have awareness, but taking appropriate action to break out of such a cycle comes with difficulty.

My first years of university showcased no change mentally. I felt distracted at every stage of the day, overstimulated yet fatigued, a non-existent social battery and general lack of enthusiasm for the happenings taking place around me. I took a grand step at recovery when I paused to question why and how control of my own mind had crept so far away from me.

Last year I wrote an article on the danger of consistent instant gratification. A strong disruptor of nervous system regulation, I didn’t realise just how much I had lost the skill of concentration. It shows up in little ways everyday. When conversing with others, when waiting, when writing or reading or applying oneself to a task. Do we dedicate ourselves fully, or are we subject to distraction? Can we sit in silence? in stillness? without a screen?

I note the birth of brain-rot, simultaneously, the risk of the eclipse of concentration. Correlation or causation, I would argue the latter. The next time you step outside, take a quick look around and observe how many are looking down. When did it become so ridiculously normal to not be here, because we are always mentally elsewhere. I have always feared for iPad babies, but lately too for myself, my friends and quite frankly the wider population around me.

Paralysis post-overstimulation, a sense of feeling stuck or simply unable to even start. How are we able to reclaim what is rightfully ours? There exists the version of ourselves we cannot grow into until we begin to take the uncomfortable steps and push all the bullshit aside to do so. ‘Callus your mind’, my airpods deliver David Goggins narration to me on max volume. To make a decision that serves our future self even if it may not be what we want to do in a given moment. To deliberately seek discomfort in order to master our own mental dialogue. To step outside for the run, to start the first sentence of the paper we have been putting off, to have the difficult conversation, to resist the urge to return to old ways, to react differently, in sum: nothing changes if nothing changes.

The mind, the muscle we have all been ignoring, or rather frying with a deluge of digital information, endless notifications and media fragmentation. I am blessed to have experienced a childhood coloured by the concept of HOBBIES. The beautiful notion of channelling your concentration on a singular, specific activity. Younger me had the most exercised mind of them all, what followed was a focused state that ignited creativity, a sense of mental and physical security and ultimately, success.

It’s true that motivation alone will never be enough. I am also not entirely fond of the guilt cycle that can follow from such a discourse on discipline. But simply to recognise the organic dopamine that follows from embracing momentary discomfort, accepting adversity and the freedom and euphoria that can be found in activating one’s flow state. Sometimes such an emotion will not appear, but I can guarantee that making some kind of move will always feel more productive and positive than putting it off. With each activity and every time we choose to go against the easy option and muddled state of our own minds, we teach ourselves and craft a new concentrated way, so that one day we might follow not only willingly, but naturally.

Start small for the biggest impact of them all. Here are 10 of my little changes, for increased concentration, extra mind muscles and a happier version of me!

1. Staying till the very end of a workout class, soaking up the stretch, not rushing to put equipment away.

2. Starting for 5 minutes, especially when I don’t want to. Mostly in relation to writing my thesis right now or getting out on a run, but the rule applies elsewhere.

3. Put your phone away at meal times. Focus in on the conversation in front of you, or if alone, on the food you are experiencing. Your digestion will thank you too.

4. When was the last time you worked on a skill from scratch? Felt difficulty, mental or physical strain? Abundant lives cannot come from coasting.

5. A big breath before action and reaction. Sometimes it only take a split second to choose to do something drastically differently than the way you were programmed to before. Such a skill can break many a bad habit and requires only momentary discomfort.

6. The beauty of board games, the concentration required to learn a new card game.

7. My time in Paris comprised a lot of people watching. People watching is a wonderful catalyst for increased presence.

8. One habit. Not trying to change everything at once. Pick something and stick with it, as simple as sunlight in your eyes or a glass of water first thing in the morning before you dive into the digital world.

9. Wordle.

10. A good old shock to the nervous system, in the best way possible. Sauna, cold plunge, sigh, sweat and always MAKE A START. Your future self will only stand there and say thank you :)

Several male styles register on my radar from a mile or 2 away. Linen in the form of Luca Faloni, the appeal of a classic polo, but perhaps more importantly & my best discovery: Massimo Dutti Men is an underrated place to shop for women.

Summer brings out Orlebar Brown and Vilbrequin. But the all time latest addition and only truly necessary accessory for the male wardrobe…the Whoop. I could write a whole additional article on just how much this piece of technology intrigues me.

Before Jacob Elordi ignited a worldwide obsession with a man’s bag collection, or the latest Love Story series had me marvelling at the outfits of Paul Anthony Kelly, Daniel Craig had his own epic look and a seriously superior sunglasses collection locked down. One I hadn’t noted before until Pinterest was kind enough to bring it to my attention.

I’m not the only one catching onto Craig’s style shift; a growing Instagram page exists dedicated to tracking each of the actor’s latest looks. Perhaps it’s important to recognise the role of his stylist Taylor McNeill, or Jonathan Anderson for luring Craig into his 2024 Loewe campaign; the actor has been a brand ambassador ever since.

I always believed the woman’s wardrobe was infinitely more thrilling than that of los hombres. Craig has me thinking differently. He just looks effortlessly awesome.

Lagerfeld captured the ultimate fashion recipe very simply:

A simple styling tool that we should all be resorting back to. Getting dressed to look your very best does not have to be a complicated affair. The same notion goes for both man, and woman.

So to share below, a few favourites and the pieces I would happily poach from a man who looks as suave off screen as he does on it.

As I entered adolescence, I encountered a new narrative, one rooted in the romantic relation. All so suddenly, there was a switch up in mentality and February 14th morphed into a moment to be both feared and dismissed by those sin significant other.

The search for such a hero, the one that can only appear out of the blue and sweep in when we least expect it, seems to be a pretty important theme on this spinning sphere of ours. In fact, we are exposed to the love trope at every stage and every day of our lives. We grow up watching Disney films that mark magical endings, soak up romcoms that set unrealistic expectations, read literature that transports us to other dimensions, and most crucially, can find a song to support us with each different aspect of the falling in love journey (however sad, happy, sexy or angry that may be).

It doesn’t matter what listening age you secured on Spotify, I can almost guarantee that, in some kind of all roads lead to Rome-esqueness, all lyrics lead back to love. Taylor Swift became a billionaire off break-ups, Morgan Wallen, The Marías, Cigarettes after Sex, Abel, Daniel Caesar, Olivia Dean, Quendresa, Giveon…the list goes on, and on, and on and on. Even the ones without lyrics, from Beethoven to the master Miles Davis. Are we being indoctrinated, or simply all chasing after the same intoxicating feeling?

With such a focus, it is no surprise many of us sit here as hopeless romantics, deciphering situationships and falling at the first hurdle of love in an era encompassed by non-chalance, measured reply times and a billion dollar dating app industry.

It also comes as completely obvious when Valentine’s becomes intertwined with such a univocal angle of enamorment. ‘What are you doing for Valentine’s Day?’, the pregunta only appropriate for those with partner.

“Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere.” -

Says Hugh Grant’s character in the famous opening scene from Love Actually. My Miami grief was lessened when I realised that the life I spent the past 4 years building here in Madri was still sat waiting for me.

Throughout the past month and a half since my return, I can’t help but notice how little instances of love also serve to elevate our everyday, often without any kind of acknowledgement or appreciation. From interactions with familiar faces to walking my favourite streets of a city that has seen me in an ever-evolving form, it would be silly to dismiss the levels of love that exist far beyond a fixed and romantic relationship.

I now view Valentine’s the same way I see Thanksgiving. Everyone has something to be thankful for, from the big to the small. The same way everyone has love in their life to celebrate, even if it doesn’t quite yet show up in the form you are wishing for.

The stoics teach us that nothing is actually ours to hold; when our internal value ceases to depend on external validation, it is the greatest act of self-love we can bestow upon ourselves. People will come into your life, they will also walk out of it, and sometimes we must be the ones to walk away from what we may want in a given moment, in order to find what we truly deserve.

Whatever way you find yourself in this Valentine’s Day, I can guarantee there are over a hundred different displays of love in your life, should you simply choose to tune into them. Here are 20 of mine <3

1. Long-distance friendships. Those worth travelling extended hours of time to see, those who travel extended hours of time to see you. The calculated reason behind each of the different countries listed on my phone’s world clock.

2. Nicknames: Cord, Cordy, Loula, Lou, Bunny, Bal, C, Cornelius, Cordelius, Amor, Miss Drax and every other term of affection/ endearment sends a warm glow running through my bones. An increased sense of appreciation when I know exactly which person addresses me in which way.

3. Photo-books. There are large levels of love in your life if you find a photo-book knocking around your home. There are extra levels of love in your life is someone else made said photo-book for you.

4. The mots of motivation delivered by my pilates instructor when I am a fraction away from conceding my pike to plank and meeting the reformer flat on my face.

5. Being best of friends with your local barista. Not having to open your mouth to order. They just…know.

6. If you receive reels on a daily basis, someone is thinking of you. You remind someone of something, no matter how brain-rot it may seem.

7. My best friends would not let me sleep alone when I went through my last breakup. Having a home away from your actual home, and being able to turn up to it unannounced whenever you may please.

8. Texting with my mother every single day.

9. Letters. Of all kinds. Love, Thank Yous, Birthdays, Christmas. Knowing someone has taken the time to hand-write something personal to you.

10. I await the day my friends smack a big fat therapy fine through my letterbox. If you have people who are willing to listen to you talk through the same shit until you have finally processed it, and always without judgement, you are rich in love.

11. I used to dread my birthday. Now I realise the blessing that it is to be sat round a table of people who care so deeply for me.

12. Little words on low days. Those who set time aside of their schedule to check up on you.

13. The hours of advice and words of wisdom from my father.

14. Yes the love of your life can appear out of nowhere, but so too have some of my strongest and life-long friendships. Spontaneous meetings that have resulted in many a special memory.

15. Knowing that someone, somewhere, has said a prayer on your behalf.

16. ‘I’m proud of you’, ‘Text me when you get home’, ‘I’m thinking of you’, ‘I just wanted to hear your voice’, ‘You would love this’.

17. Gifts. Not necessarily grand, nor expensive. But the small things that people have seen and subsequently been inclined to buy for you.

18. Realising you are coping with a challenging situation better than your past-self would have.

19. The Saturday debrief of an eventful Friday night. Sisi bagels, side-quest stories, the start of a fresh chapter, new character, and laughter that equates to a whole weekend’s workout.

20. A deep love for your own life and the direction in which it’s headed.

I’ve come to realise that these moments in my life can take me down either of two paths. One, the old, the familiar and not so loved rut bug. A few hopeless, listless and anxiety ridden days that tide me over until the arrival of an exciting event, trip, or some road to Damascus style change in mentality. The other…well I thank the Miami version of me and a much loved quote captured below.

The month of February presents its own fork in the road. We can fall back on what is familiar to us; the habits, routines and tendencies that so often serve to leave us ‘stuck in the mud’. Or, we can face head on a term I frequently find myself lectured on by my father during time spent back home. ‘It’s DT now Louli’, he tells me. Decision Time.

I do not like decisions. I don’t like choosing my main from a restaurant menu or when I’m stuck between 2 different sizes on an item of clothing. I like decisions even less when I know they might actually have some sort of seismic impact on my future and the ‘fateful’ twists and turns associated with what happens next. Perhaps the reason it took me twenty hours and a phone call with nearly every individual on my contacts to determine if Miami or Austin Texas should take top spot for my study abroad application. (With no disrespect to Austin, but my oh my am I happy I went with Miami).

Oedipus Rex was fated to kill his father and marry his mother. What he tried to run from, he ran blindly into. An ancient exemplar of the power of fate, and the futility of our attempts to avoid it. When I look back at my twenty-two years of life thus far, I do believe that everything happens for a reason. We do not meet people by accident, we frequent places that unlock new parts of ourselves and propel us towards transformative experiences. But all of this…thanks to the decisions that we make in the meantime.

My most memorable moments and many of the people I can no longer imagine my life without, are the result of a decision that, at the time, I almost felt too scared to take. From the smaller occurrences of high school, a last minute university switch to Spain, and making Miami my número uno, the trajectory of what could have been, is very different to what I am relieved and grateful to call my present reality. Mix in all the characters along the way, the rejections and the redirections…well they are all founded on a single jump, sometimes into the known, but majority of the time, straight into the unknown.

It is a funny realisation to wake up and realise, within reason, the shelf of free will that sits in reach of us all. In fact, it is a true privilege to be able to seize the day however we please. In areas of conflict, dictatorship and danger, this is certainly not the case. Where we are granted the gift of constructive risk, why do we remain so hesitant to take it?

‘You are not a tree, move’, some few silly words that snapped me out of one of my deepest ruts, and inspired me to send out an email on a low January day last year that landed me an interview and internship at one of my favourite brands. Turning up to places alone, striking up a conversation with a stranger, reaching out, walking away, trying, failing, trying again, day one instead of one day.

For the greatest goals, the new skills, the healthier habits, the advanced versions of ourselves, the life that becomes an impressive page turner and for the chapters we are yet to arrive at, jumping right when it feels scary to remains the strongest and most formative way to do so.

There is a wonderful moment during wake-surf where one is required to throw the rope back to the boat. To truly grasp ‘the motion of the ocean’ and to carve out the board the way you want, all whilst enjoying the ride of the wave itself. The same can be said for such decision times; a millisecond of a moment in which we must let go, make the move and trust that we will be carried in the direction we are meant to.

Let’s not forget that a little cooperation goes hand in hand with the concept of fate. ‘I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul’, so I was inspired to be reminded on my daily commute across University of Miami campus.

The extra 20% off sale items is packed with power pieces right now. And sometimes in my free time I like to imagine the empire I once spent so long crafting on Sims FreePlay could be translated into some real life form of pay. Unfortunately it can’t. BUT… it doesn’t stop me from sharing with you everything I would purchase from an epic extra 20% off, if I could just one day hit checkout with my treasured Simoleons instead of a not so promising Great British Pound.

1. There is no one who does a summer staple like Zimmerman. This crochet number can be dressed up, down and thrown over a bikini for a stroll around a beach town.

2. I love yellow. I love yellow a whole lot more when I have a good tan. Yellow print mixed with a bandeau bikini= a little slice of swimwear heaven.

3. Well this entire Chloe collection had me in a chokehold. I adore the reformed logo… and this fun coloured beach bag.

4. The necklace doesn’t need much expansion. I’m glad I’m not called Chloe or I would have had the perfect excuse to press pay yesterday.

5. These VB satin pumps deserve as much spotlight as current Beckham family feud coverage.

6. 10 years from now, I hope I can sport Rohé every day. I currently own one evening piece from them and seem to have formed some serious attachment in the process. I love the details and silhouette of this grey cashmere.

7. I spent much of my adolescence testing out different denim. Accompanied by a mounting frustration when jeans so loved by my closest friends would look completely opposite and awkward on me. Denim fits different on everybody, and finding out what clicks for you, both in comfort and style, is a subjective journey. However… I do believe 7 for all mankind works wonders for most of womenkind. This is my favourite fit by them…and in the dark wash, it kind of becomes a non-negotiable.

8. I love Choo.

9. Black suede, an even better shape.

10. I wish more people knew the simple power of a good gold hoop.

11. This jacket appeals to me very much. I would be extra excited to workout if I knew I could throw this on top of a standard matching set.

12. Velour shall return. So I would opt for these sweats.

13. Mix and match of a sports bra. I like it a lot.

14. The next time my mother demands I wear a hat before heading out in a freezing London Town, I will happily oblige.

15. These Dries Van Noten’s, in every damn colour way, porfiiiii.

In essence, there exists levels to the crush concept. Enter the unattainable crush… the ones we can only admire from afar. It could be in the standing pit for the concert of a favourite artist, or in my latest case, from the comfort of the sofa and a very large TV screen. I have never been a film fanatic; I’ll watch anything with Julia Roberts, Ferris Bueller’s Day off has always been a family favourite, and I gladly recycle Mr & Mrs Smith every so often because…we can all appreciate an appearance from Ms Jolie and Señor Pitt.

My interest and appreciation for film intensified one Sunday evening when I was introduced to American Gigolo and the original Armani Man. An expressive definition of the 80s era; a culmination of iconic film, music, and of course, fashion. Richard Gere…the man you are. A single suit that sent shockwaves through Hollywood, catapulted Armani into the limelight and reinvented any awkward tailoring associated with the years prior.

Whilst it was Gere’s wardrobe that revitalised the symbol of the suit… suave, sensual and ultimately impressionable, Lauren Hutton’s simple sophistication and effortless elegance are emblematic of a lasting ‘It Girl’ style. Block colours, one timeless trench and an epic Bottega clutch.

In a modern day decade dominated by the emergence of the matching tracksuit ( from an Alo epidemic to globally viewed media of Maduro) , an age where pajamas are considered acceptable airport attire, I present my current crush & a host of American Gigolo outfits that simply cannot go unnoted. Because the clothes that we sport so often serve to introduce ourselves to the world, well before words even have the chance to.

The date is January 7th, exactly one week of resolution territory. Whilst I have abandoned such an activity, I still, like everyone else, seize the time to renew, refresh and feel my very best. So to share my thoughts on January so far, what’s working for me, what’s not, and what I’m aiming for more of. The 26 list for 2026 below:

1. If you don’t yet own an alarm clock, the time is now. ‘It really is that damn phone’, and the further you find it out of your bedroom, the better your day is set to start. For my birthday I asked for a loftie clock. Chic, sleek and a guaranteed way to achieve better sleep.

2. There’s a recent tragedy that took place in the world that I can’t seem to shift from my mind. It is a humble reinforcement of the fragility of life, and crucially, a reminder to tell the people closest to me just how much I love them, way more often.

3. To be loved is to be seen, understood and also, remembered. A simple ‘this reminded me of you/ made me think of you’ can make an individual’s day far more than you might think. Last week my friend sent me a photo of the moon; the other night at dinner someone told me they think of me when they wear Massimo Dutti. On both occasions, I was smiling from ear to ear.

4. A straightforward supplement routine will serve you best. I started taking Ashwagandha last September. Magnesium Citrate, Glycinate, Omega 3, and Vitamin D when my levels are running low.

5. I truly believe your space serves as a reflection of your mind. Clear out the clutter.

6. It’s been a year since my fast fashion ban, a ban I’m happily bringing forth into 2026. A smaller wardrobe with power pieces is far superior to ‘a closet full of clothes with nothing to wear’.

7. My best friend taught me the importance of having nice nails. Having nice nails makes me feel a whole lot better about myself.

8. You don’t need an extended gym routine, an Equinox membership or to kiss carbs goodbye to reach your fitness goals. Pick something, anything, and do it consistently. Reformer pilates takes the top spot for me; breath-work, discipline and strength simultaneously delivered over one strenuous hour of exercise .

9. Thank you letters. Because manners maketh man, and woman.

10. I thought I knew the Circles album back to front. Apparently I do not. Right now it’s all about Right, because no artist makes me feel more at ease than Mac.

11. Wake up, chug water, chug some more water, and notice how your sense of mental clarity increases.

12. Trust that your friends have your best interests at heart. So often they can see situations for what they really are, instead of what your own fantasy tells you.

13. That being said, it’s also human to ignore the advice of those around you. Sometimes we have to live an experience to the best of our ability, before we learn the lesson of otherwise.

14. Giving myself enough time to get to where I need to go. Last year my lateness was so bad, friends began giving me fake reservation times. I will make a conscious effort to turn up on time in 2026. Or even earlier… ‘on time is late’, as my brother likes to remind me.

15. There are many health trends that are full of shite. Bone broth is not one of them. My all-time favourite is, unfortunately for me, located in Austin, Texas. So until I have the chance to return, this one will have to tie me over.

16. The greatest skincare product is the produce you consume. This brand comes in close second place.

17. Someone once asked me at a dinner party why I eat in slow-motion. Eating slowly is the best thing I have every done for my digestive health.

18. If you’re in need of a new LBD for the new year, I have my sights set firmly on her.

19. My advertising management professor once mentioned something during a lecture that stuck with me forever: ‘If you try to be everything to everyone, you end up being nothing to no one.’ People-pleasing tendencies will only tire you out.

20. Parmesan is the most efficient protein bar, take a pass on the ultra-processed. Though I always take great enjoyment in testing new Barebell flavours.

21. I have a sunglasses obsession. The one item it might be possible to never have enough of. I’m currently eyeing these… but to avoid bankrupting myself before the year even starts, I’m thankful for dupes. This shape is long overdue in my collection too.

22. Bowling is an underrated activity. So is Ping-Pong (I predict a resurgence on the horizon thanks to Marty Supreme). I wish to engage in more of both this year.

23. ‘A clarity that hurts you is better than a hopeful confusion that holds you’- I will quietly keep repeating to myself.

24. More nights out in Madrid. I plan to move back and act like it’s the first time I’ve ever lived there.

25. I will continue collecting matchboxes everywhere I go.

26. ‘If you can keep your head when all about you/ Are losing theirs and blaming it on you’, or for a more modern day motto: ‘It’s not that deep’.

When my exchange semester and its endless possibilities panned out in front of me sometime around early August, there was a single rule I set for myself on my 9hour and 45minute plane ride from London Heathrow to Miami International Airport: ‘Say yes to everything, say no to nothing’. The regimented routines, strict eating schedules, and early nights associated with my Madrid life had perished, and in its place, something self-transformative and profound was to appear.

Over the past 5 months in Miami, I have discovered a balance I didn’t believe possible to exist. A lifestyle free from extremes and most importantly, a trust, respect and love for myself that didn’t depend on anyone or anything else but me. The result? I am entering the holiday season in control of my health, out of my head and hopeful for an even greater 2026.

Last month, I was invited to take part in a forum for entrepreneurs working to break down barriers linked with chronic female health conditions in the UK. Trial and error has played a huge part in my recovery journey: I was lucky enough to frequent top doctors, travel to different European cities exploring new forms of treatment, cycle through every fancy supplement… so on and so forth.

Finally, it was through my work with a naturopath and her identification of severe nervous system dysregulation that I could start to re-structure the blocks on which my health and well-being are built. During the forum, someone posed the question of what I would choose to do differently if I were to start back from square 1. There was only a single thought that sprung to mind: ‘I wish I had been less hard on myself throughout it all’.

Many of us function in a hyper-competitive hub that strives for progress, one driven by a desire for consistent improvement. We seek success in the office, out of it, the physique and the relationship that finally makes us feel complete. The majority of it displayed in a modern day online museum, where everyone has access to your latest life update.

FOMO is not a natural phenomenon; it’s highly likely our ancient ancestors didn’t know whose grass was greener, they were too occupied with watering their own. It has become oddly normal to inhabit an inner voice that fails to recognise our achievements, yet one that can go full force in identifying our defeats, our delays and other general areas of lack in our lives. It yaps on from the moment the morning commences… consider yourself lucky if it ceases by the time your head hits the pillow at night.

My time in Miami gave me freedom from such mental noise. Once I finally loosened my leash on the self-improvement spiral, I could step back and congratulate myself for what I had accomplished, whilst sustaining my work towards the woman I want to be. Perhaps summed up more pertinently by Billy Joel: ‘Slow down, you’re doing fine, you can’t be everything you want to be before your time’.

This holiday season I’m relinquishing grand resolutions & instead bolstering the fundamental values and principles by which my daily routine is driven. For sure, the greatest project you will ever work on is yourself. Though, it is important to remind ourselves every once in a while, and especially during this time of year, that we are not machines programmed solely for self-improvement.

Approaching our ambitions, from the loud life changes, to the little events of the everyday, become a lot more enjoyable when they are not fuelled by the sounds of our inner self-critic. To relish the now whilst quietly and confidently blossoming onwards & remembering that this very moment may just have been the prized place for our past selves. And ultimately, after all, we spend so much damn time in our minds, we might as well make them a nice place to be.

Change feels a little like marmite, people appear to either love it or hate it. My opinion on change has oscillated throughout my adolescence, until it dawned on me that not all change can or should be viewed and treated as equal. Looking back, the instances that had me victim to the phrase ‘I hate change’ happened to be largely out of my control. The unexpected loss of a loved one, moving on from schools, people’s treatment towards me suddenly switching up.

Simultaneously, it appeared I and everyone around me was craving change at every corner. This is the change in question as I embark upon and grow increasingly fond of the Miami version of me. Universally, we wait impatiently at the end of each year to set our New Year’s Resolutions, ready for a redo, a total transformation. We mark other dates such as birthdays, graduations or the start of a new job as Willy Wonka’s golden ticket to start anew, and create the version of ourselves we have always wanted to be. Just like a pair of new shoes, fresh and shiny out the box, until time and wear play their part and the novelty wears off. So often is the cycle when we attempt to orchestrate change in our own lives. When the candle of motivation finds itself flickering, we either turn to something exterior to try and reignite it, or settle back to running the hamster wheel we already know.

‘What we are not changing, we are choosing’. Courtesy of the self-help section of my Pinterest. Or if we are to trace back to the guys that had it down pat from day one, ‘Happiness belongs to the self sufficient’- Aristotle.

Familiarity might be our greatest foe when it comes to implementing lasting change in our lives. It’s why New Year’s resolutions fail, why we can’t quit the self-destructive habits, why we go back to relationships we know in our hearts aren’t meant for us and so much more. Breaking out of being ‘stuck in the mud’ often requires a leap of faith and inquisitiveness to do things differently. The wonderful news… is that this can begin whenever you so choose. Your ticket to change does not need to come gift wrapped and guaranteed by the Gregorian calendar. Nor does it need to be found in grand occasions or moves across the Atlantic ocean. For as long as we are alive, we can begin again. And again. And again’…. as many times as we damn please.

Those were the single digit years of my life. But in my early 20s, things are looking a little different. Somewhere between the highly anticipated installation of BluRay DVD and a therapist in the form of ChatGPT, convenience crept in. At the start, it was a kind of convenience that enhanced my on-earth experience. I could finally assert ‘fast-forward’ button authority over advertisements, my family discovered the beauty of a Friday night Papa John’s takeout (orchestrated over the landline phone of course), and I could independently arrange my playdates thanks to the emergence of FaceTime.

The year is now 2025. No we don’t have flying cars, time-travel or teleportation, but you can find the love of your life with a simple swipe right, along with the option to never have to cook for yourself again, and the ability to Apple Pay your way through your day ‘like Apple is paying’. Better defined and more simply understood as ‘Instant Gratification’.

As I entered adolescence, I recall an all too recurring phrase sounding in my direction: ‘Loula, you’re always on your phone.’ I brushed my mother off , each time with incremental annoyance. The innocence of Solitaire, Sims and sibling bonding, courtesy of Clash of Clans, had been replaced with a soaring screen time, diminishing self-esteem and a waning attention span. Yet I was conscious of none of it, and why should I have been? I was still achieving in school, in sport and felt adequately stimulated by my social life. Certainly, Covid-19 added fuel to a festering fire. Swallowed up by screens, I began to note behavioural shifts. Namely, an inability to quit the doom-scroll, an email inbox populated by ‘Your order has been received’ notifications and a persistent feeling of anxiety and restlessness.

A few years down the line and instant gratification was infiltrating my university life. Residence meals were easily replaced by Glovo, Bolt became my best friend, and the Zara app… luckily the closest I have ever come to a toxic relationship. But this time, awareness accompanied it all. I felt overwhelmed, overstimulated and wholly unsatisfied. My budget was bruised by weekly parcels and a frequency of Honest Greens orders so high that I was able to secure ‘legend’ level on the app (part-achievement, IMO).

Quite frankly, a change was due, a change that I committed whole-heartedly to in January of this year. It was time to rewire the though patterns, the mental noise and the instant gratification impulses. & for the the first summer in 3 years, my mind feels quieter and my breathing is returning to a regular rhythm. Fight or flight no longer, I’ve been working with a naturopath to explore my parasympathetic nervous system and reach internal equilibrium once again. Daily anxiety, fatigue, mental fog, dissociation, insomnia… are symptoms experienced by so many, too often without any kind of explanation or defining diagnosis. But in a society which requires us to be plugged in and switched on 25/8, far removed from the hunter-gatherer lifestyle we were programmed for, it is no surprise many of us are left feeling the way that we do. Is convenience the culprit?

Whilst you won’t see me scrapping my socials or quitting My Theresa just yet, balance and boundaries have become non-negotiables in my quest for calm. & with practice, comes progress. Everyone is individual, but this summer I’ve been favouring the following:

1. One hour reformer pilates classes- they are unbelievably powerful for reconnecting with your breath, and I leave feeling physically invincible every time.

2. Single-tasking is superior. Put your phone away at meals, dedicate yourself to tasks without distractions, listen carefully during conversation with others.

3. Walks without music. It could be a 4am Uber to the airport, and I would have my Airpods connected. I was never without them, never in a moment of silence. Not only have I now switched to wires, but I am far less frequently surpassing my weekly hearing health limit.

4. Backgammon- what a brilliant invention.

5. Cooking…is a work in progress. But keeping it simple has been my key. And ridding my explore page of fancy recipe videos. Not everything needs to look aesthetic all the time.

6. I have an alarm clock. It is wonderful. My phone sits firmly outside my bedroom and I don’t have an instant cortisol spike from notification tidal waves.

7. No notifications is also a great option.

8. Be beautifully busy. Not the kind of busy that leaves you rushing around without the chance to ever sit down. But the busy that makes you forget your phone exists, the busy that awakens the flow and the wonder of your younger self.

9. Tennis. Lots and lots of tennis.

10. Look up and out when you walk around. Take time to notice things you never have before.

11. Instead of scrolling, shopping, eating or drinking to distract from turbulent feelings, sit with it and let it be your compass to a deeper understanding of yourself.

12. Sleep. It actually is possible to wake up feeling a million dollars, and it starts with a solid sleep routine.

13. Read! Even if you have to sit and force yourself at the start. Soon it will become the most soothing part of your day.

14. Quit the random scrolling. On the tube, when waiting in line, when you feel awkward in the elevator. You’ll be surprised how much this cuts your screen time.

15. Check in with yourself before you check out. If it’s going to end up on Vinted in one month, you might as well save yourself the headache in advance.

16. Take genuine interest in your friends and your family. Take genuine interest when meeting new people. Everyone has something to say when you take the time to actually find out.

17. Gratitude.

18. 4 seconds inhale. 4 seconds exhale.

19. Water does work wonders.

20. Run, swim, sweat… the delight of organic dopamine.

21. Whole foods. For ultra-processed truly is a form of poison.

If my attention span alarms me now, I can’t help but fear for the prefrontal cortex of the iPad baby. The mind is a malleable place, and it’s up to us to take care of it. Convenience, but in the right quantities. At the same time, knowing how to slow down, wait a while, and forgo the fight for ‘now, now, now’ might just be the solution you’ve been seeking all along.

Fast forward 3 years and there is a home and life I have built for myself here that I’m not quite sure I’m ready to wave goodbye to. As I prepare to pack up and start from scratch in Miami, I wanted to give mi Madri the tribute it deserves along with some reflections on the lessons I have learned along the way.

1. You’re not the only one feeling alone at Uni. It is a phenomenon experienced by many, yet voiced by few. Do not be hard on yourself for feeling the way that you do.

2. That being said, nothing ventured, certainly nothing gained. Throw yourself into various environments and experiences. One day you’ll look back and realise you found your people along the way.

3. Croquetas are cool, but the obsession dies down. I consumed enough in my first week to put me off for the next 36 months. But if I wanted a last Spanish supper, I’d opt for Jurucha, or a special little taberna in La Latina.

4. Never take for granted an 8 euro/month public transport card. It’s always a homecoming shock when I get back to London and see the TFL charge pending on my Revolut.

5. You cannot change the people around you, but you can change the people around you. Friendships should recharge, not drain. Learn to walk away from the ones which do the latter.

6. Honest Greens, wild mediterranean bowl.

7. Macera espresso martini.

8. It’s ok to say no to a night out. It’s also ok to leave a night out early. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.

9. Making friends with the local parts of your life is a guaranteed way to sprinkle added positivity into your day. There is something grounding about a conversation with my favourite coffee shop, or the weekly debrief with my pilates instructor.

10. The world is wider than Cappuccino Grand Cafe. Branch out.

11. A cold tinto de verano on a summer’s day.

12. The best way to learn a new city is to keep walking around it. Just like a join the dots, one day you realise everything is connected.

13. Make the reservation at Loss 33, even if the earliest date is 4 months down the line. When the evening finally rolls around, you’ll thank the earlier version of you.

14. To stroll through Retiro.

15. To run through Retiro.

16. You can find everything your heart desires at an El Corte Ingles supermarket.

17. No one is judging your Spanish. Habla más.

18. Massimo Dutti.

19. When everything feels overwhelming, the cinema is a great escape.

20. Life without challenge is unrewarding. Set yourself a goal and work towards achieving it.

21. Call your parents, siblings, grandparents and your people from back home.

22. The schnitzel at Fismuler, the steak and ensalada de nini at Charrúa.

23. Being behind the DJ booth at ISTAR, or any nightclub, does not equate to celebrity status.

24. Half my step count from my time in Madrid is either Calle Serrano or Begoña metro station.

25. You might live in a city, but never doubt the possibility of running into several people you know, wherever you go.

26. Why didn’t I discover TKO Tacos earlier.

27. Group project work may require prayers to the patron saint of patience.

28. You don’t need to purchase from a Zara just because you walked past one.

29. To walk out and feel the sunshine on your face, in a city which has 300 sunny days a year.

30. Casa Salesas.

31. Never turn up to a party or a pre-drinks empty handed.

32. Reggaeton has grown on me, just a little.

33. Museo Sorolla.

34. There will be people who come into your life to show you what love is not. Rest assured, there will also be people who come into your life and show you what love really is. & when that happens, make sure to live every moment of it.

Besitos