It started in 2018—my first job out of college. I was working in marketing, but in my soul, something else was stirring. That same year, I read Earth Is Hiring by Peta Kelly, and somewhere between her words and the quiet voice inside of me, the idea for Locals Closet was born.

I couldn’t have named it that clearly at the time. But I felt it: a deep desire to live more consciously, to travel more meaningfully, and to connect to people and places through what we wear. Fashion—especially when it’s local, thoughtful, and sustainable—has a way of rooting you into a place. Like a soft entry point into a culture.

Before Miami, before modeling for emerging brands, before Nanushka—it was clothing swaps in New York City. One at an alpaca farm. Another at Glasgow University. I didn’t need a reason other than the feeling of joy it gave me. Exchanging clothes, stories, and energy with other women who cared about the planet and about each other.

Even as I built a career in marketing, I’ve always found myself drifting toward inspiration in my free time—at a farmers market, a hotel lobby admiring the interiors, or inside a small boutique store Casa Del Sol and marveling at brands like Baobab and Johanna Ortiz. I worked one holiday break on Siesta Key and picked up shifts at Plato’s Closet, which honestly feels like a TJ Maxx for young women. Still, Plato—as in the philosopher—might just be one of my spirit guides for this Locals Closet vision. Him, Emilio, and Maurice. (Don’t ask me to explain that yet—it’s a feeling.) Plato and I somewhere in Greece at the top of concrete structure above the crashing waves like the Great Wall of China but over the Mediterranean.

Here’s what I imagine:

You land in a new city. You’re not just renting a friend’s house or booking a hotel room. You open the closet and find a wardrobe thoughtfully curated for the week—pieces from local designers, vintage treasures, even a few borrowed items from someone like you. You’ve packed light. You are the light.

This is what Locals Closet is about. A decentralized fashion library. A peer-to-peer clothing swap reimagined. A slow fashion movement that travels.

This weekend, I helped my parents clean out their closet. We took their clothes to Plato’s Closet. The staff passed on the women's (too “high-end” they said) but took some of the menswear. We left with $14 and a bag full of beautiful women’s clothes that clearly didn’t fit their store’s demographic—but I know they’ll shine somewhere else.

I didn’t want to walk through the store, but we did anyway. For me, shopping isn’t about consumption—it’s about observation. Who shops here? What brands end up on these racks? Why are these trends circulating? It’s research. Fieldwork. Even if most of it now looks like Shein, Zara, or some Kylie Jenner line that will likely fall apart and end up in a landfill.

And then it happened. My mom pulled out a dress. “Idiots,” I said out loud—not about her, but in disbelief at what was before us.

A Nanushka dress. Originally $760. On the rack for $30.

Long, lightweight, shell buttons, a soft collar, wrist-length sleeves. Coffee brown with a delicate leaf pattern. The kind of dress I imagine wearing to my first day as a fashion editor. Or modeling for the brand itself. I tried it on after two other misses. It fit like it was made for me. I went home, put my hair up, added shell earrings—and something inside me whispered, “Yes. Yes. Yes.” Even my mom said, “You’re in the vortex.”

Moments like this remind me why I care. Why I dream. Why I still hold onto this vision of Locals Closet. Because it’s not just about the clothes—it’s about the feeling. That whisper from your soul that says, keep going.

It reminded me of thrifting in NYC with Pearla, walking into bars with tote bags full of clothes and stories. Or with Michelle in Miami, getting vintage shop recs from Dyna. I sketch clothing racks in my journal: bikinis, vintage heels, pants I’d design or curate. I sketch diamond-shaped shelves—like stargates—for ceramic mugs and local art. These are the stores I want to build. Not just in one city, but as part of a global-local network travelers can access.

Until then, I’m admiring the Latte Mug and Water Jug from Nanushka’s café ceramics line, dreaming of what Locals Closet can be. A magazine, a mobile boutique, a living archive of style and soul.

And yes, I saw that 30 people I know already follow Nanushka’s site. Synchronicity? No. Just alignment. Wake up and smell the coffee. Let’s go.