All the other random musings we enjoy including lifestyle, interior design, wellness, thoughts, food, art, music, etc.

I Auditioned for my First Role in 7 Years, Here’s How it Went (and what I Wore)

audition outfit

I Auditioned for my First Role in 7 Years, Here's How it Went (and what I Wore)

by Veronica R.

Fair warning my friend, what follows is a story of serendipity, passion and heartbreak. Oh yes, and of course, a heaping dose of melodrama. But let’s just jump right in, shall we?

A few weeks ago, I woke up on what should’ve been a glorious sunny morning feeling… off. Just a few days prior, I’d been happily musing over the fact that I’d spent the beginning of my twenties meticulously ticking things off my bucket list: traveling the world, getting engaged, going to Fashion Week, growing a YouTube channel, learning instruments, etc. And yet, it felt like something was missing. 

The stage.

Performing and I have had an on-again-off-again relationship since I started (and stopped soon after) acting in elementary school. I’ve always struggled with pretty crippling anxiety but in high school, I joined the school Musical in my Senior year and overcome my stage fright for good.

Or so I thought.

Fast forward about 7 years, and somehow, my stage fright had come back with a vengeance. Still, I couldn’t deny how much I missed it. I missed the lights, the community, the energy. But most of all, I missed that electric moment right before going on stage. If meditation is the art of being fully present, than performing is perhaps my greatest form of meditation; in no other situation have I ever felt such a wonderful mix of electricity and peace. I knew someday soon, I wasn’t going to be able to deny this inner longing anymore, I’d have to take action.

I just didn’t think it would be so soon.

audition outfit

See, my brain’s version of “soon” would have been preferably… never. It would’ve loved for me to simply complain about this dilemma for the rest of my life, but never actually leave my comfort zone long enough to do anything about it. But someone up there must have heard my plea and they were terrifyingly efficient in answering the call (now, if we could just get that same level of enthusiasm at the DMV). Because the very same day I cried about all of this to my fiancee, I ran into an old friend who mentioned she was doing the costumes for The Producers. In fact, she was working for the same theater that I had last performed at 7 years prior. Excited, I asked her if she knew of any upcoming auditions.

“Well, we’re auditioning for The Producers on the 29th!” she said.

“Oh, okay! Of March?” I asked, as February was just about to end.

“No, like in 2 days.”

I was, at once, filled with both excitement and dread. Excitement because I was getting what I wanted! And dread because… well.. I was getting what I wanted. I knew I needed to do this. I had no choice. How could I complain all morning, but turn away the moment the solution was right there in front of me? It wasn’t ideal, but nonetheless, with 2 days to prepare, I ran home and obsessively practiced my audition song.

When that fateful day finally rolled around, a new kind of panic set in. The omgwhatamigoingtowear??? panic. How should I present myself for such a critical (in every sense of the word), moment? What exactly is the proper attire for your first musical debut in several years wherein you must both stand out but dress comfortably enough to dance and sweat and sing and not worry about a wardrobe malfunction?

I avoided choosing an outfit until the last possible moment, intentionally denying myself time to overthink it. Dressing instinctually, I chose the black-leggings-black-turtleneck combo so common in the theater, and to add a little pizazz, wore what I like to call my bad-ass ballerina flats. A lovely combo of nude, pink, unassuming flats with tough, black buckles and mismatched bows tied around my ankles. It’s my go to shoe whenever I feel the need to express that I’m multifaceted (which is often), and I hoped that would be the message received, not that I’m blind.

I raced to the audition and even made it there early. So early in fact, it seemed like no one else was there except for one other actor waiting in his car. The theater was locked, no lights were on, so I waited in my car too with a sinking feeling that something wasn’t right. By this point, auditions should’ve been starting by now, and that’s when my fear was confirmed. As the other actor was about to leave, he graciously told me the auditions had been moved to a completely different location. Thankfully, he kindly let me follow him to the proper place but forget about being early, now I’d absolutely be late. 

Regardless, I walked in with my head held high and introduced myself. Before I knew what was happening the auditions were beginning. I was up there, belting my heart out and dancing with no real training. Yet somehow, I felt so much more comfortable than I expected. It was over in a flash and I left the audition feeling like a million bucks.

The next day, while thrifting, I got a call I didn’t see coming at all.

theater outfits
winter outfits idea

“We’d like you to come back and audition for the role of Ulla,” I heard the lovely director saying in my ear. In a predominantly male play, Ulla is basically the only female lead. I couldn’t believe it. However, if I thought I was nervous before, now I was completely panicked. I had less than 48 hours to prepare a much bigger song in between working full time. I spent every spare second listening to the soundtrack, running to the bathroom to practice in the mirror whenever I could and belting my heart out on my commute. While before, I’d been able to tell myself that I didn’t care about getting a big part, the big part, once it was dangled in front of me, I knew I wanted it more than anything, and I was going to give it all I had.

Yet again, I found myself standing before the casting crew. A strange sense of confidence was taking me over and I pulled out all the stops I could. I danced, I shook, I shimmied and put on my best Swedish accent.  I had no idea where all of this was coming from, but I felt like for the first time in such a long time, I was really living the life I was supposed to be living, and dare I say it… maybe even had a real shot.

Then, after a hearing a comment someone made before I left, I knew instantly I wasn’t getting the part. Even so, it didn’t hurt any less when I got the call confirming it the next day. The director offered me a part at least, which, I had to remind myself was my biggest dream just two days ago. I knew I should’ve been grateful, I was grateful. Still, after working so tirelessly, giving it all I possibly had and learning my best wasn’t good enough, I accepted the offer, said thank you and promptly burst into tears the moment we hung up.

Now, I can’t lie. That day, I was being quite the drama queen. I was exhibiting the kind of mourning generally reserved for situations like the airport losing your luggage with like, ALL of your favorite clothes in it. Because part of me was mourning something very special. Though it was short lived, I’d spent so much time getting close to the idea of Ulla. I had intensely imagined wearing her costumes, learning her numbers, her personality, her accent. But Ulla wasn’t mine to play, and saying goodbye to that dream was heartbreaking. 

Dealing with rejection and heartbreak sucks. But here’s the thing. Sometimes, it’s vital. Sometimes we think we’re comfortable where we are, but really, we’re just trapped. Fear is convincing us to stay put, to avoid following our hearts because it’ll only lead to trouble. However, I started to realize… maybe I wanted a little trouble..? Maybe I wanted the messy, imperfect chaos of life. Maybe I wanted my heart to be liberated, to lead me through the good and the bad. Maybe I wanted, not a boring, safe life, but a full life. Sometimes, when our hearts are stuck shut off to the rest of the world, we need something to break them open, to let new light in. 

And in that new light, I saw everything so clearly. I saw that this wasn’t the end of the road, but only the beginning. I saw the fire within me, awakened. I saw my heart breaking again and again if that’s what it would take to live my dreams. I saw more strength and courage within myself than I’d seen in a long time. I saw the person I was really born to be. 

And I can’t wait to become her. 

What New York Fashion Week Taught me About Living Your Deams

New York Fashion Week guest

What New York Fashion Week Taught Me About Living Your Dreams

by Veronica R.

One glorious morning a few weeks ago, my friend, Sydney, (hey Syd), who works in the magical world of fashion sent me one of the greatest texts I’ve ever received: 

“I might be able to get you into a runway show.” 

My heart nearly burst out of my chest. As someone who’d always hoped that one day, maybe, just maybe, after I became a celebrity (for doing who knows what… locking my keys in my car one too many times..?), I may be invited to the exclusive and elusive Fashion Week. It was a dream I wouldn’t even dare allow myself to fully dream because it felt so far removed from who I was. Rather, it was just a hazy image nestled into some dark corner of my psyche that I’d occasionally peek at when drooling over all the girls on Instagram who’s lives I desperately admire. 

Yet, somehow, my dream was coming true and so much faster than I anticipated! As I was drafting up my list of 2020 goals I would’ve added NYFW to the list had I thought there was even the slightest chance it could happen for me! It was an unforgettable experience to say the least, but perhaps most unforgettable, were the 5 lessons the experience taught me about living your dreams. 


New York Fashion Week guest
Green embroidered dress

1. Your Dream will Make You Feel Resistant – Do it Anyway 

After days of holding my breath, at 10:30pm before the big day, I get the confirmation. It’s no longer a maybe, I’m going to my first ever NYFW runway show. I see the all holy barcode hit my e-mail inbox and I can hardly believe it. And yet… almost immediately after I scream with delight, I’m ambushed by dread. An idea slowly creeps into my brain. 

Maybe I shouldn’t go… 

Why on earth would I think that when clearly, this was a moment I’d been waiting for forever and may never come around again? But to my dismay, worse thoughts were right behind it. 

Everyone will be mean to me, I hear it’s filled with snooty people… What if I get lost? I won’t know what I’m doing and everyone will be able to tell! Now I have to buy train tickets and metro cards.. I shouldn’t spend the money…

And the age old zinger: what on earth am I going to wear?!?!?!?! 

Thankfully, I’d been low-key planning my Fashion Week debut ensemble for years should this day ever come. Something bold of course, this is the ultimate excuse to dress up after all! I decided to channel Gucci and wear one of my latest thrift scores: an emerald green dress covered in embroidery, beading and rhinestones. I layered it over a second dress with a Peter Pan collar (1. for warmth 2. for cuteness) and styled it with a green belt, socks and heels. 

Creating the outfit had given me a burst of positive energy, but the moment I was done, my brain was back to convincing me not to go. I believe this is what Steven Pressfield has coined “Resistance” in The War of Art. It’s the idea that anytime we’re called to do something wonderful, make art, step outside our comfort zone, live our truest destiny, we essentially go through the hero’s journey. We get the call, but we’re afraid of it. We resist it. Some people go on resisting their whole life, feeling guilty for never leaving their comfort zone but fearfully staying comfortable nonetheless and regretting it once it’s too late. 

I wasn’t about to be one of those people. I was going to see this journey through to the end.  


2. “Self-made” Doesn’t Exist 

As I sent myself into a frenzy trying to prepare, I was shocked and touched by how everyone around me was not only just as excited, but willing to help make it all possible. My Mom offered to spend her Sunday morning driving me to the train station rather than sleeping in. My sister gave me her train tickets and Metro card that she could’ve used for herself. My fiancee also gave me his metro card and offered to pick me up from the station when I got home.

But the kindness didn’t end there. 

On my disgustingly-early-for-a-Sunday train, I coincidentally ran into my friends John and Bridgette, on their way to a parade in Chinatown just 4 minutes from where I was headed. The whole way there, they happily helped me take pictures of my outfit, very important for such a momentous occasion! Then there was Aaron, the sweetheart standing next to me wearing fabulous blue cowboy boots. We struck up conversation and as soon as he heard this was my first NYFW, he took me under his wing and guided me along as the seasoned vet he is. 

What I couldn’t stop thinking throughout this whirlwind day though, (other than OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG), was that somehow, despite the fact that I’m essentially, how shall I put this mildly… a f*cking nobody, I’d made it to Fashion Week! And in such an endearing way, it was clear that I couldn’t have done this alone. 

And then it hit me… “self-made” is a fallacy. 

We all have help, in big ways or small. When you fill the majority of your life with wonderful, supportive, caring people, they want to see you succeed just as much as you do.


Bevza 2020 runway show
Blue Cowboy boots

3. Nobody is a Nobody  

I walked into the bright, airy studio overlooking a stunning view of Manhattan and suddenly found myself seated next to some of my biggest inspirations. Was I seriously breathing the same air as Eliza Cardinal Tamkin from Man Repeller? Was I really sharing precious and limited but-cheek space with Stephanie Arant on the bench? Was I honestly having a casual conversation with Alyssa Coscarelli about her Miu Miu shoes? And part of me wondered… what was I doing there again? I began to realize what an ironic choice my emerald dress was… 

I was quite literally and obviously very green in this whole world of fashion.

Then it hit me: Yes, yes I am sitting here with all of these wildly successful and prominent people. And the reason they’re all here is because at one point, when perhaps they were still “nobodies” like me, they believed that they were somebody with something to say and something wonderful to share with the world. Thus, they grew to be the icons they are today. 

So if I could be there, in the same room with all of them, what’s stopping me from being in their position one day too? The space between us was drastically decreased, and it was humbling to realize that they’re all just humans. Talented, hardworking, successful humans, but humans. And I remembered that I too am somebody with something to say and wonderful things to share with the world. Aren’t we all? 

Because at the end of the day, “Somebodies” are just somebody, and nobody is a Nobody. 


Claire Rose at Bevza
Michelle Song at Bevza 2020

4. The Universe is Totally on Your Side  

Okay so maybe not totally… we’ve all had those days when your hair sucks and every light is red and you’ve spilled the smoothie you made in effort to “start the day right” all over yourself and you find yourself screaming “why have you forsaken me smoothie!?!” On days like that it feels like every force in the galaxy has it out for you. 

But seriously, not to sound completely woo-woo, but The Universe, God, Mother Nature, The Powers That Be, whatever you prefer to call it, is vast, right? So just as much as there’s space for unknown forces that seem to be having a good laugh at your expense, there’s absolutely space for forces of nature that are 100% rooting for you (get it? Nature?? Rooting!??) And I’ve noticed that the more we focus on our good fortune, and the closer we get to living our destiny, the more that good fortune grows.

This was one of those days where everything was just going right! Between having friends and family who even care to help me get into NYFW, randomly meeting my friends on the train and ending up in line next to someone so kind, it seemed like these were little validations that I’m on the path I’m supposed to be on. And as one last little happy coincidence, as I left the show on cloud 9 and walked towards Miu Miu to window shop, I accidentally ran into KarenBritChick, another one of my all time biggest inspirations. I’d been playing it cool and holding back much of my excitement all day, but when this happened, it seemed like all my dreams were coming true at once and… well… I totally fangirled. Oops. 

If I scared you with my overzealousness, I do apologize, Karen. 


Bevza 2020 runway show
Bevza 2020 runway show

5. You’ve Found Your Calling When You’re Eating Everyone Else’s Shit Sandwich 

I first heard this term in Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic (which is a serious must read BTW). The original idea comes from Mark Manson. He believes that “everything sucks, some of the time.” It’s up to us to decide what sucky things we’re willing to put up with, in other words, what shit sandwich we’re willing to eat, in order to do what we truly love. 

So the next day, after it felt like some Cinderella-status enchantment had worn off, I was back to my day job. I was regaling a few work friends with my fashionable adventures when one of them very frankly said “oh yeah, I went to that a few years ago. Hated it.” 

Ironically, his name is Frank. 

It was comments like these that had contributed to my Resistance before the show. For years I’d lusted over the idea of Fashion Week, and was disappointed every time I read an article or heard an interview with someone who revealed all it’s worst qualities. They didn’t like how tiny the benches were, they said everyone who went was stuck up, they said it was boring, etc. I half expected to find myself feeling the same way but all I could think was how exhilarating all of this was!

But that’s the thing. It all depends on your taste for shit. I was willing to loose sleep, spend hours traveling, walk around in the cold with my hands going numb and maybe even deal with some rude people just to be a part of the action. I adored waiting in line to watch slinky models march down the runway for 15 minutes with music pumping so loudly you can feel your heart vibrate. For many people I know, that’s a shit sandwich they’d never be interested in eating. 

But truth be told, I can’t wait to eat it again and again. 

New York City buildings
green embroidered dress

It Took me 25 Years… But I Wrote an Original Song!

When I was 16, I lost my pink Razor flip phone and cried for a week...

What exactly does this have to do with writing my own music? Well, quite a bit actually… allow me to explain. 

Okay, so I went to Adventure Land with my friends and by the end of the day, one of the best adventures of my life, quickly turned into my worst nightmare. We took one last ride on the bumper cars and when we got off, heads still spinning and giggling like crazy, I noticed my cell phone was gone. It must have fallen out of my pocket and into the arena where it suffered a bumper car induced death. 

And I. Was. Devastated. 

(Also, I’m well aware that this is such a first world problem, but hear me out.) 

However, it wasn’t because that phone was perhaps the coolest phone to ever exist, it wasn’t even that it was my very first phone and I cherished that thing with all my heart. Sure, those factored into the hysterical tears. It was really the fact that I had recorded countless little snippets of songs that I hoped to one day finish and turn into something real, and now, they were gone forever. 

I’ve been writing music for as long as I can remember, always just little fragments here and there, that never really went anywhere (or were tragically destroyed in the fiery pits of bumper car hell.) Maybe it was mourning the loss of all those forgotten songs, or maybe it was just that the older I got, the more my confidence in song writing began to wane. 

You know how it is. You get into the habit of procrastinating, until your brain starts building up something so simple into a seemingly insurmountable task. We convince ourselves that if it hasn’t happened by now, it’ll probably never happen. We write that into the story of who we are, and so the dreams we held as children never become anything more. 

I lacked confidence. I was certain that since I’d never learned to play any instruments, at 25, I was past the point in life that it would ever happen, could ever happen.

But a couple Christmases ago, everything changed. My sweet boyfriend gifted me with my first ever musical instrument of my own: a shiny brown ukulele. 

That present single handedly launched me into a full blown love affair with music that had been lying dormant for far too long. Turns out, learning an instrument, isn’t all that hard. I wouldn’t say it’s easy, but it’s not nearly as hard as my brain told me it would be. And so, for the first time ever, I rewrote my story. I decided to properly finish a song, with music notes and everything! And who better to dedicate that song to, than the lovely man who believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.

So, because of Jeffy, I can say that after 25 years of procrastination, I officially wrote my first song, for him.

I’m not sure I’ll ever go back on the bumper cars again though. 


Monthly Playlist: Beats for August Heat

As the final month of Summer brings us those ultra hot days, I wanted to create a playlist that would be perfect for lounging around the pool or the beach. So, here’s a list of songs I’ve collected this Summer that I wanted to share with you! I hope you enjoy this lil’ August Playlist 🙂

Absofacto – Dissolve

Royal Canoe – RAYZ

The Regrettes – I Dare You

The Fiery Furnaces – Here Comes the Summer

Shy Girls – Headfucked

Cults – You Know What I Mean

Karim Oullette – Les Brumes

Franc Moody – Super Star Struck

Toro y Moi – Freelance

Caravan Palace – Comis

The Marias – Baby One More Time

MUNYA – Hotel Delmano

Django Django – Firewater

Embracing the Suck – How to Overcome Perfectionism

a girl dancing in a white winter outfit


I’m prone to biting off way more than I can chew. First of all, I’ve always been a bit overly ambitious and wildly creative. For as long as I can remember, I’ve occasionally experienced these surges of beautiful creative energy where I’m dreaming up millions of ideas all at once. 

One minute I’m casually thinking of what I’ll wear tomorrow and the next minute I’ve decided to start an ethical clothing conglomerate whilst becoming first female president and receiving the Nobel Peace Prize. 

This sounds fantastic, right? Well sure, sometimes it is! But other times all of those ideas and goals are overwhelming. My brain is flooded with so many things that I have no clue where to begin. Because I can’t focus, nothing gets done. It often feels like I’m filling this figurative box with millions of half baked dreams and the bigger the box gets, the more I feel like crap about myself. Suddenly, all I can see is this pile of woulda, shoulda, couldas and nothing I can really say I’m proud of.

I start to believe that all I’m ever going to be is someone who talks about great ideas but never really does anything great. 

Right before the New Year, I was hit with one of these times. 

girl wearing a long white coat and a chunky scarf

I had so many wonderful intentions. I was going to film every single day for my YouTube Channel! I was going to churn out weekly blog posts, daily instagram  posts and totally crush this whole internet thing. 

And then I hit a wall. 

I was wildly stressed out. I started to hate anything and everything I did and overthink even the tiniest of details. I’d spend hours working on a thumbnail for my YouTube channel just to decide it was horrible and delete the whole thing. I wasn’t content or at peace with anything. 

Nothing was what I wanted, but truthfully, I didn’t even know what I wanted. 

By mid December I had already gotten sick twice. I’m not often sick, and I took this as my bodies way of telling me to slow down.  I’m the type of person who feels guilty for taking breaks, so sometimes, unless my body starts to physically shut down, I won’t allow myself to rest. (I know, it’s a totally horrible habit!) So at last I finally understood: I needed a break. I decided to stop all my social media, spend December with my family and friends and quit worrying so much.

a girl modeling in a white winter coat and long scarf
After I took a step back to really examine myself without the pressures of keeping up with social media, I came to a major conclusion; the reason I get myself to such a level of anxiety is because I am beginning to let fear driven perfectionism control my creativity rather than inspiration. Because I am so passionate and driven, I worry that if I don’t create enough, I’ll become irrelevant. I worry if I don’t work myself into the ground, it means I’m becoming lazy. I worry that I’m wasting my time, or wasting everyone else’s time, or that I’m doomed to be an utter failure. I often get caught up in the comparison game. I look at all my favorite content creators and by the time I look back at whatever I’m doing, I think, this just isn’t good enough. 

In short, I fear that if I don’t do everything perfectly, I shouldn’t do anything at all. 
a close up image of black boots and a winter scarf

But I’ve made a decision: I am only going to create from a space of joy and inspiration. 

And that’s not to say I won’t ever share the struggles and low points of my journey. Because sometimes that’s the truth, and it’s important to share that. But when I start noticing that the only reason I’m driven to create is because I’m afraid, rather than inspired, I know I need to reset myself a little. 

I’ve never wanted to spend my life surviving, I’ve always wanted to spend it thriving.


First of all, as creators these days, I think many of us are making a pretty big mistake when it comes to how we view our creations. The standard for content has become extremely high, so for my fellow perfectionists of the world, this fuels our perfectionism. 

It’s no longer just about creating things by our own standard of perfection, now we have to worry about everyone else’s. 

But recently, I had this revelation. I was feeling really nostalgic so I started rewatching all the videos that very first inspired me to start making my own, 

and I realized that literally all of my favorite YouTubers once made videos that sucked. 

Back when the internet was just becoming popular, the standards were so much lower which gave the seasoned veterans we all know and love now, plenty of room to grow and make mistakes. So we might look at how far they’ve come and think we should already be just like them, but that’s like trying to run before you can crawl. 

a girl walking a white winter coat and white jeans with scarf
a girl wearing a white winter coat and long scarf

And guess what? All your favorite artists, and singers and basket weavers and any creator of any kind, once made things that sucked! They had to pay their dues, they had to give themselves time to learn and grow and make mistakes so that they could ultimately become the people they are now.  

There’s a quote out there that says “don’t compare your chapter 2 to someone else’s chapter 20.” And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. 

I’m still only in the very beginning stages of my journey. I haven’t put in enough time and effort to be where I’d like to be yet, and that’s okay. The moment I stopped resisting that, it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I still have so much learning to do and many mistakes to make. 

So from now on, my plan is to just kind of… embrace the suck!

I no longer feel pressured to keep up with the status quo and I refuse to feel ashamed of anything that isn’t “good enough.” Instead, I’m kinda jazzed about making mistakes because I finally understand that it’s the only way I’ll ever get to where I want to be. 

portrait of a brunette girl wearing a chunky scarf


I also realized (for like the millionth time in my life), that I learn best by doing, not by thinking. One of my all time favorite people to learn from when I’m feeling really confused is Marie Forleo. One of her biggest mantras is “clarity comes from engagement, not thought.” So yes, ultimately your goal is to get better and better overtime. But the only way your going to do that is if you allow yourself to actually create. Even if it doesn’t come out right, even if it sucks, it’s all just adding time into your craft and that’s a beautiful thing, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. 

Allowing perfectionism to get in your own way is only keeping you rooted in the same stagnant place while time keeps pressing on. 

a girl wearing a white winter coat and long scarf


And finally, I realized that whenever I move back into this space of fear, I starve my creativity because I don’t allow myself to explore anymore. I keep getting caught in this idea that I’m not allowed to change and move in new directions. For years, I’ve had the idea drilled into me that one day I’d have to find my one thing, the thing I’d settle into and do for the rest of my life. But truthfully, that’s just not me. I am multi passionate and I love life! 

To me a full, rich life is one that is filled with all sorts of adventures!

I keep worrying that I’ll never be successful if I don’t stay boxed in, but you know what? I don’t think I define success by numbers. I define it by fulfillment and my well being. 

Not being authentic is not only doing a disservice to yourself, but to the rest of the world as well. 

a brunette girl in a winter coat and scarf

I can’t say I know exactly who I am yet, but I feel I’m getting closer to the true me all the time. My plan for this next year is to just keep trying to find her. I hope for many more adventures. I aim to follow whatever directions my creativity leads me in. I plan to find myself and my voice by doing, not by worrying. And I’m sure there’s going to be plenty I do that doesn’t come out quite right. 

But for once in my life, I’m going to embrace the suck. 

a girl dancing with text that says how to overcome perfectionism