Nina
I immersed myself in the details of my sketches for the upcoming Louis Vuitton winter collection, a project that felt almost unreal. The day kicked off with an unexpected thrill. At exactly eight o’clock, the door to my office burst open. A fellow designer, eyes wide with excitement, told me he’d seen my designs, gotten an astonishing reference fromVogue, andpitched them to Louis Vuitton.
The rest was history.
I was making history at twenty-nine years old.
What is my life?
I deserved this.
I deserved every bit of it.
But somehow, beneath the surface of accolades and success, lingered an unsettling feeling of impostor syndrome.
Growing up in the cramped confines of a rundown house, success, with its bright promises of a better life, seemed like a distant myth or a story reserved for others. Though, against all odds, I defied expectations. I clawed my way out of that suffocating existence, driven by a relentless hunger for more.
Now, surrounded by accolades and admiration, I found myself standing at the pinnacle of my achievements. The world saw a confident, accomplished individual, but inside, doubts gnawed like hungry wolves.
Did I truly belong here, among the elite and the celebrated? Or was I merely a novice masquerading as a seasoned professional?
The echoes of my upbringing whispered doubts in my ear.
How could someone like me, who once knew hunger and fear, now sit at tables adorned with fine linens and crystal glasses?
The shadow of where I came from still followed me, a quiet fear that one wrong step would expose me as an impostor.
Yet beneath the doubt, pride burned steadily. I hadn’t arrived here by luck. I had earned every inch of it. And perhaps, one day, I’d fully believe that.
My desk was a beautiful chaos of winter, sketches of high-collared coats, snowflake-stitched gowns, fur-lined gloves, feathered capes, and dresses that appeared spun from ice.
I called my mom first, her voice full of pride. Then Inaya, her joyful scream resulted in unrelenting laughter. We celebrated,our dreams finally real.
The door creaked open.
Alejandro stood there, grinning, two steaming cups of coffee in hand.
“Hey, superstar,” he greeted, setting a cup on my cluttered desk. “Thought you could use a pick-me-up.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
He leaned against the desk, his eyes scanning my sketches. “These are incredible. What are they for?”
“Thanks,” I said, taking a sip of the coffee. It wasn’t my usual espresso, but it worked. “A collaboration I have to do, but I still have a mountain of work to do.”
He chuckled. “You always say that, but you always deliver.”
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t suppress a grin. “I’m trying to keep my head above water here. Besides, it’s not like I had much of a choice. I needed something to distract me from everything else.”
He nodded, understanding without me having to say more. “What’s the inspiration behind them?”
I took a deep breath. “Winter. I wanted to capture that in the collection.”
He nodded along, though I had barely said anything. “I can see it like you’re bringing winter to life.”
I smiled, the tension in my chest easing slightly. “Thank you, A—”
The door swung open suddenly, and I whipped my head around. My heart stuttered as my gaze fell on the one person I hadn’t expected to see.
