How often do you hear the word ‘love’ associated with  objects—from handbags, to shoes, to cars and houses? The truth is, I love beautiful objects, things—especially clothes. And, especially designer shoes. This has been the case for as long as I can remember. Back to school shopping was an annual festivity, most notably selecting a single pair of prized boots, Mary Janes or street sneakers from Nordstrom’s Anniversary Sale each summer—carefully chosen to last me a full 365-days through all seasons, including the persistent downpours in Portland, Oregon where I grew up.

In retrospect, this single, coveted selection process was quite minimalistic. That is, until one became 10, and 10 became 100 after taking a teenager’s dream job at the very department store that started my addiction, and pursuantly studying fashion in New York and Florence, Italy.

From fashion I moved to beauty, a vast and thriving industry valued at close to $500 billion. In keeping with my new-found desire for more depth, authenticity and goodwill, I stayed on the gloriously ‘green’ and ‘cleaner’ (albeit growing) side of the conversation, diving knee deep into a new-found passion: natural, organic and fair trade consumables—beauty and health with a conscious. And, I loved it. I was making a difference, driving business results, working with passionate people and foraging truly sustainable relationships. Time flew.

After 12 years, something—let’s call it meditative perspective—shifted. Having worked with a large, global and ‘natural’ beauty company for the past few years, religiously tracking daily sales, I realized that this—a job intrinsically intertwined in the corporate rat race—was not the sustainable life I envisioned.

Sure, my life was seemingly perfect, privileged, in fact. I lived in Manhattan’s Upper West Side with access to organic dry cleaning, over-priced green juices, the most bustling Whole Foods in the world, Central Park, premium barre workouts, luxury fashion, ballets and ballads and regular business travel. And while truly grateful for all the enriching opportunities and access I had, I felt stuck—trapped in the web of constant consumerism.

I yearned to call forth on my courage and be entrepreneurial—letting go of fear, of attachment to my beloved wardrobe, a small yet covetable NYC apartment, job status and a healthy salary to boot. And, there was no running away from the voice whispering and slowly shouting within. I needed to give myself permission to live, to really live. To start embracing my dreams, including the vision to seriously live abroad, most notably in Amsterdam, The Netherlands.

So, sparing some undramatic details, I took the mental leap, found a client across the pond, built a business plan for my new brand consultancy, cleaned my closets and asked my forever compassionate husband to join on this journey. That was in November of last year.

Four months later, as I write this, the sun is setting over Amsterdam, and I can’t keep my eyes off a peaceful bird perched on a branch over-hanging my neighbor’s quiet terrace. Watching a fluttering friend simply sit, mundane as it may sound, is thrilling. From the frenetic pace of New York City—a place I still call home in my heart—to the quaint cobblestoned streets of Amsterdam, I’m finding my way back to the basics. Simple, little pleasures.

The best part is, it’s just the beginning. For all of us. It’s never too late to wipe your closet clean and press the restart button. Because the experience of life is priceless.

xx