YOUR IDEAL WAY TO START YOUR DAY?

           Ideally, My objective is to begin writing in the morning and keep going until noon without interruption. That’s the goal. But depending on the project I’m working on, reality changes. On some days, to catch a window with colleagues on LA time, I start at 4 a.m. On other days, I get up at five, have coffee, take a probiotic, and spend a few hours writing, reading, or researching. To connect with my body, I’ll practice yoga or a fascia-focused activity. It puts the day in perspective.

These routines help me organise my day and coordinate the various aspects of my job, such as developing recipes, telling stories, moving, or using creative techniques. Having worked in a variety of fields, including editorial, public relations, wellness, culinary, beauty, and fashion, I’ve discovered that maintaining a creative approach requires both knowledge and calibration. After all, I am the instrument. Setting limits, maintaining focus, and adhering to a rhythm that permits cross-pollination across all domains are all part of tuning.

Although clients frequently come for the deliverables, they gain from the lived experience that underpins them: the capacity to change course, make intuitive decisions, and carry out apparent executions because the foundation has already been established. A colleague and I were on the phone, me from the streets of Florence just the other week, making last-minute edits to pictures that couldn’t be approved as presented. I have a hard time letting things go if they don’t measure up to the vision, and that’s not about control. It’s about care. In the end, that’s what mornings and creative work are about for me: carving out the quiet to meet the day with intention so that what I offer the world is not just completed but deeply considered. 

However, my advice to people is to stop chasing new routines. I’m not a fan of life hacks and lists. Days unfold, and things happen. Be open and take in what’s around you.

WHEN DO YOU FEEL CREATIVELY MOST FULLFILLED?

        Real creative fulfillment occurs when the work transcends a brand or product, when the process becomes about contribution rather than just expression, and when the result has value for a community rather than just a campaign. Even though I am thankful for many of the assignments I take on, whether as a writer or consultant. The idea that creativity, in its most potent form, may be mothering, not in the traditional sense of raising a child or starting a family, but instead in the sense of caring for something, fostering it, and passing it on, is something I’ve been exploring.

This viewpoint changes the goal of creative work as well as its process. It’s more about maintaining something greater than the self than it is about displaying the self. I feel this most clearly in the kitchen, crafting recipes that connect ecology, sustenance, and story, or in research when I’m tracing the invisible threads that link the past to the present.

The fantasy and escape that the fashion industry provided drew me in more than thirty years ago. However, I have witnessed firsthand how unbridled exaltation of creativity can result in compulsive overproduction, burnout, and detachment. We honour “creatives” as though the term were revolutionary in and of itself. However, I frequently question whether the world needs another creative at this time. 

The merging of spheres is what we need. Although it must also aid in transforming the systems that are failing us, art should awaken, provoke thought, and educate. This is the modern-day makeover. More medical professionals, economists, educators, engineers, scientists, and, yes, artists who aren’t afraid to question the narratives we live by are needed. Who envision alternatives and are concerned enough to change them. Keeping this in mind stimulates my creative process. It holds me responsible. It serves as a reminder that the most significant work doesn’t look for praise. It aims for effect.

HOW DO MOVE THROUGH MENTAL OR CREATIVE BLOCKS?

        I return to taking pictures, cooking, and spending time outside. Additionally, movement is beneficial. Sometimes, it’s just writing things down to get them off your mind and onto paper; other times, it’s yoga or a fascia-based practice. These are hygienic measures that maintain the integrity of the inner waters.

I try not to push myself to be productive when I’m stuck. Instead, I aim for something that re-establishes my connection to the outside world. Taking classes on ecology, social justice, and sustainability has been a silent lifeline. I gain perspective from learning about other people’s systems and stories. It makes me remember why I started in the first place: to serve a greater good rather than to establish my worth. Sometimes, the block is simply a reminder to refocus, not a sign of a lack of inspiration.