This is a crazy article for me to write because I'm a workaholic, I loved my job and working in fashion and to the outside world I was flying. I had an exciting life - full of parties and openings, photoshoots and free clothes. I lived in a beautiful part of London with fabulous friends and one of the best pubs in London just up the road.
As much as all this was great, and what I'd worked toward when I moved to London four years ago with no money, no contacts and no clue... the reality didn't quite live up to the dream.
All I can say of the past few years is, despite the amazing experiences I've had, is that it's been a struggle. That would be the operative word, struggle. I felt like I was constantly swimming upstream and overcoming my shortfalls. I arrived in a big tough city with no money, no family, no friends, no experience, no influential contacts - and without those things - it's bloody hard.
Especially in the fashion and media industries, it's hard to find someone who hasn't had some sort of a leg up, whether that's a family that lives in London or that can support or subsidise them financially, a partner to split the bills with or familial contacts in an industry rife with nepotism.
Please don't get me wrong, I 100% do not want to come off bitter, I made my choice and I'm proud to say I made it to (kind of) my dream job all by myself. Even though it was hard, I got my head down and did it! I think anyone who can make it work alone is really admirable.
I had 'it all'. So what was the impetus for a monumental decision?
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