Last night, I curled up on the couch with my granddaughter to watch Project Runway. It’s a show we both love, being part fashion, part heart, part creative fire. She starts middle school soon, and at this age, how she expresses herself through fashion is becoming more and more important to her.

At one point, she looked at me and said:

“I can’t wait until I graduate and get out of the environment where I’m judged for what I wear.”

I didn’t expect her words to land so hard. It took me a second to respond, not because I didn’t know what to say, but because it mattered that much. There was something both beautiful and heartbreaking in what she said.

Her words brought me back to a time I hadn’t thought about in years. I remembered being her age and wearing something that felt so me, only to be teased for it. I remember the sting. The way it made me second-guess myself. That’s when I first started learning that sometimes, expressing yourself comes with a cost. But it also comes with truth. And truth is worth it.

I told her gently, “You’ll be judged at every age.”

Even now, I’m still judged for what I wear, whether it’s colorful or plain, designer or simple, labeled or not. People always seem to have an opinion. I suppose that’s just part of being human. We notice, we compare, we assign meaning, whether we mean to or not.

But I’ve learned something over time that I hope she’ll come to understand too. Most judgment has very little to do with us.

People sometimes make offhand remarks about someone’s clothes, hair, or style not because there’s anything wrong with it, but because something about your freedom triggers something in them.

Your confidence, your color, your ease can unsettle the part of someone who doesn’t feel quite as free.

So they try to shrink you. Or mock you. Or make you doubt yourself. Not out of cruelty, but because your light makes their shadow more noticeable.

And, at times it works. At least for a while.

The truth is, most of us do let the world edit us. We start to move in one direction, inspired or lit up, and then suddenly we pause.

What will people think?

Is this too loud? Too different? Too much?

We shift. We dim. We blend in.

It’s subtle, but it’s powerful. We begin rewriting ourselves to fit the frame others find most comfortable. We begin to limit our choices not based on who we are, but on who we think the world wants us to be.

I used to be far more concerned with what others thought. Not just about fashion, but about how I spoke, how I moved through the world, even how much joy I allowed myself to feel. It has taken time, tears, and self-forgiveness to get to a place where I live more in alignment than for approval. It feels lighter here. And it’s real.

Real freedom begins when we step outside of that lens. When we step outside ourselves with love. When we take an honest look both inside and out.

Am I honoring who I am?

Not the version shaped by expectation.

Not the version edited by fear.

But the truest version. The one who already exists underneath the layers.

I told my granddaughter that by being bold enough to be her authentic self, she might just give others permission to do the same. And I believe that deeply. When we stop trying to twist ourselves into versions of what others expect, and start living in a way that feels true, we feel more alive. We step into purpose. That’s where real happiness lives. That’s where connection begins.

Now I wear what I love, even if it’s not always trendy. I speak in my own voice, even if it’s quieter than others. I’ve come to see fashion as a form of self-trust. A way of saying, “This is me.” Without apology.

Watching Project Runway together is more than entertainment. It’s a reminder that we’re all stitching together an identity, one decision, one color, one brave choice at a time. And even though she’s young, my granddaughter is already designing a life of her own. I see it in her eyes. I see it in her heart.

I hope she remembers this conversation. Not just because we were curled up together watching a fashion show, but because she felt safe being honest. I hope she’ll carry the message that her style is sacred. That she doesn’t have to wait to be free. And I hope someone reading this remembers it too.

Because real style isn’t about what you wear.

It’s about whether what you wear reflects who you are.

And that? That’s timeless.