DIY yourself into any reality

Podcast Transcript:

Welcome to the Pattern Breaking Podcast.

I want to tell you about a street style blog that still exists that I have been following for literally 20 years. It’s called Hel-Looks — H-E-L hyphen L-O-O-K-S. Hel-Looks, with “Hel” being short for Helsinki, the city in Finland.

It was literally 2005 or 2006 when I discovered this street style blog. I was using the computer in my parents’ basement, right? And I come across this street style blog with all of these incredible Finnish people — and whoever else was wandering the streets of Helsinki and being photographed.

These incredible people were wearing clothes and outfits like I had never seen growing up in Ohio. There was a whole range of styles.

There were women dressed like retro pin-up girls. There were older women in monochrome outfits with scarves and hats and feather boas all in the same color. I remember 13-year-old kids who had the coolest outfits they had put together themselves.

They weren’t going to H&M and putting together an outfit off the shelf. This was random stuff they were combining and making into these insanely cool outfits.

Part of this street style blog was really simple. It was just a photograph of the person the photographer stopped on the street and asked, “What are you wearing?”

Next to the picture would be a super short description: the person’s name, their age, and then a short list describing what they were wearing.

And for some reason, it always stuck with me — it always felt especially impactful — when the person described something they were wearing as self-made.

Those were always the exact words they used.

Self-made.

That wasn’t the language I was hearing or using in Ohio in the early 2000s. I might say, “Oh, I made this,” or “I sewed that,” or “My grandma sewed that dress for my niece.”

But there was something about the words self-made, and about seeing them appear in this fashion context, that always struck me.

It made me think: those are the coolest outfits.

The ones where they’re wearing something self-made — those were always the best ones.

And I want to talk about this self-made concept, because I feel like it’s turned into a theme throughout my entire life.

Looking back now, I can see why those words stood out to me so much back then.

By the way, the blog still exists. I’ll link it in the description of this podcast so you can go explore it yourself. There’s even a New York version of Hel-Looks these days where the same street style photographer takes photos of people in New York — maybe other cities too.

It’s literally just as good as it was at the beginning.

I can’t wait for you to dive into the archive and just nerd out looking at all the hair from the early 2000s. You’re going to love it.

The scene hair. The big swoopy bangs.

There’s a lot of that.

Anyway — self-made has become a theme in my life.

Back then, what that meant for me was that I was really into the punk scene — especially a part of the punk scene that was all about DIYing everything.

That culture shaped me deeply.

I was part of zine culture, where people were publishing their writing and publishing instruction manuals on how to do whatever weird thing they had figured out how to do.

I miss that.

I mean, it probably still exists in some form, but with the internet it doesn’t feel the same as it used to.

We were literally ordering things by mail order.

I would go to the post office, get a money order, put it in an envelope, and mail it in to order something from a paper catalog of punk stuff.

It feels like it wasn’t that long ago, but it also feels like a completely different universe.

That culture shaped me.

There was this whole mindset — an identity — of being a person who didn’t just accept things as they were.

You were always looking for a solution.

Always determined that there was a way you could hack it, even if you weren’t an expert. Even if you didn’t have money. Even if you didn’t have the resources a professional would have.

You didn’t wait for permission.

You just figured it out and hacked things together.

I had this entrepreneurial nature. I was hacking things, upcycling band t-shirts, and selling them from that computer in my parents’ basement — selling them on eBay.

So I had this innate part of me that was entrepreneurial and willing to figure out how to sell things on the internet and make a few bucks.

But I never took it much farther than that.

Even a few years later, when I was in college and studying in Italy, I remember moments where I just felt so broke.

One time I got on the wrong train.

I had a train ticket — but I got on the wrong train. So they fined me 50 euro for being on the wrong train.

I remember standing there with my roommate and just crying my eyes out over that 50 euros.

It felt like everything was being taken from me.

So I had this strong DIY ethos that I could figure anything out — but when it came to money, I felt like a complete victim.

I had started to get creative about earning money from my creativity, but I didn’t yet understand how powerful that actually was.

I didn’t realize that I could translate that same “I can figure this out” philosophy into earning money in a serious way.

It took me a long time before I realized that I could apply that philosophy to business.

That it wasn’t just limited to learning how to grow vegetables, or fixing my hot water heater, or doing my own oil change on my car.

Those were all cool things to learn how to do. They saved money.

But the truth is: you can DIY yourself into whatever reality you want.

You can DIY yourself into wealth.

And honestly, at this point in my life, I feel like that’s exactly what I’ve done.

In fact, I’d argue that behind every extremely successful startup is somebody — or a group of people — who are basically DIYing it.

They’re just figuring it out.

I love this example.

Do you remember when Airbnb started?

If Airbnb has always existed in your mind, let me tell you the origin story.

I looked this up because I wanted to confirm the details, and the story is actually even better than I remembered.

Airbnb started around 2008.

At that time there was also something called Couchsurfing — a website where people offered their couch to strangers for free. There was a review system so the host could review the guest and the guest could review the host.

There was a culture of people sharing their homes with each other.

But generally Couchsurfing was free.

Airbnb basically became the paid version of that idea.

Couchsurfing paved the way, and Airbnb legitimized it.

The founders of Airbnb were three guys living in San Francisco. They decided to rent out air mattresses in their apartment to pay their rent during a sold-out design conference in the city.

They knew there were people in town who needed a place to stay.

They had space.

They just didn’t have beds.

So they put out air mattresses — and that’s literally where the name came from. It was originally called Airbed and Breakfast.

Airbed, as in an air mattress.

Fast forward to today, and that company is valued at over $30 billion. It has literally changed the real estate market all over the world. It has affected housing availability, neighborhood zoning dynamics, and community dynamics in every major city.

It’s a massive company that pretty much everyone uses.

And it all started because a few people thought: we have some space, and we have air mattresses.

So I always ask this question: what is your Airbnb idea?

Let that be a reminder that you might be able to think a little bigger about where your DIY inclination could take you.

Self-made is such a metaphor for everything I stand for.

I stand for this idea that your ideas and creativity can take you farther than you can even imagine right now — if you only let them.

If you only let the vision be bigger.

If you stay open to what’s possible.

And it’s hard, right? Because the way we’re raised often teaches us to stay within institutions and structures that society considers safe — the expected trajectory.

I literally started my own fashion school because I saw a need for it.

My experience with school has always been that I like the idea of it. But once I’m in it, I want to get out as fast as possible.

I’m not really someone who thrives in institutional settings, because I can sense how constraining they are.

I finished college as fast as I could.

And when I went back to school for patternmaking, I was ready to be done with that as fast as possible too.

I’ve always loved the work. I’ve always loved learning. I’m a lifelong learner. I’m ravenous for learning new things and being in intellectually stimulating environments.

But I hated the environment of school.

In my patternmaking school, the dynamic was strange. There was infighting among the teachers. They played favorites with the students.

And literally, there was a webcam in the corner of the room where the director of the school in Milan — I was studying in Rome — was watching us all day long from the webcam.

It was just weird.

But institutions lay out structures. They provide a ladder for us to climb.

And it can feel like the natural trajectory after high school is to funnel you straight onto one of those ladders.

When you choose not to stay on that traditional path — the four-year degree, the master’s degree, the PhD, the professional credentials — when you fork off that path, suddenly the letters after your name don’t matter very much.

Those institutions are kind of self-feeding systems.

To succeed inside them, you have to keep feeding the system.

You keep learning, keep adding credentials, keep climbing.

But outside that system, none of that really matters.

You can use those institutions as validation — as a ladder to lean on — while you’re inside them.

But outside of them, you have to build your own ladder.

Now, I’m not against institutions.

Like I said, I love learning. I’ll do anything in the name of an experience.

If I want to go to school for something, good luck stopping me.

I’ll never forget a time when I had spent about a year exploring the possibility of working in kitchens. I was an intern at Chez Panisse in Berkeley, California — which is honestly a crazy accomplishment in itself.

I remember talking to another intern there who was incredible. I’m so grateful I got to meet her.

She had been running one of Ottolenghi’s restaurants in London.

When I told her I was leaving Chez Panisse to go to school for patternmaking, she looked at me like:

Wait, what?

You’re backing out of this?

You’ve climbed so many rungs up this ladder and now you’re leaving?

But for me, the experience felt complete.

And I wanted to go dive into something else — simply because I wanted to.

It’s funny to name-drop experiences like that because in my day-to-day life I almost forget they even happened.

But those things aren’t something you can really rest on when you’re building a business out in the world.

They don’t take you very far.

So the question becomes:

How do you build the ladder when there’s no institution validating you?

When it doesn’t matter who you know as much as what you do?

That’s the key.

When you’re building your own thing, it’s about doing the work.

It’s about starting.

It’s about showing what you’ve got — showing what you’re capable of, and showing yourself what you’re capable of.

And through that process, other people naturally see what you’re doing.

They see what you’re building.

They see what you stand for.

And that becomes the legitimacy.

The final piece of this is that self-made doesn’t mean alone.

It doesn’t mean self-made all by yourself.

It’s an adventure.

It’s the experience of the path unfolding where it didn’t exist before.

It’s the road rising up to meet you when you leap into something new.

You might set out on the adventure alone.

In fact, most likely you will.

You’ll probably experience people saying:

Wait, what? You’re going to do that now?

After all this, you’re going to do something completely different?

Yes.

You’ll set out alone.

But what you’ll remember most about that journey are the parts that involve other people.

The stories.

The experiences.

The teachers and guides.

The random characters you meet along the way.

I’ll never forget this one woman I met while working in a health food store in a tiny town called Hot Springs, Montana.

This woman walked in and was completely in love with the store.

She walked over to the produce display — you know, like the vegetable section in a grocery store, but small — and she opened her arms wide like she was praising God.

Then she held her hands above the vegetables like she was absorbing their energy.

And she said, “Oh my gosh, this place has the most beautiful energy.”

I’ll never forget her.

Even the smallest moments like that stick with you.

The things you remember about the journey are always the people.

So don’t go it alone.

And if you do start alone, don’t forget to involve other people along the way.

Stay open to those interactions.

Lean into the resources that other people offer.

Someone you know might help you in ways you never expected.

There are teachers who can support you.

There are people on similar paths sharing their experiences online.

There is so much to learn and connect with from people who are a few steps ahead of you.

The self-made journey shouldn’t mean do-it-yourself alone.

It should mean participating in an ever-expanding web of people who are out there doing their thing.

People living their unique and sometimes bizarre self-expression.

And all of it unfolds.

All of it builds.

All of it grows.

And it eventually becomes something far bigger than you could possibly imagine in the moment when you first begin.