Words by Alison Lennard
I’ve spent almost thirty years in fashion, and I’ve come to realise that the loudest voice in the industry isn’t the one on the runway, it’s the quiet whisper that says, you’re missing something.
It’s everywhere: in our inboxes, our social feeds, the endless carousel of “new arrivals” that promise transformation. That whisper tells us that if we just buy the next thing: the right jacket, the latest shade, the perfect piece, we’ll finally feel complete.
But what it’s really saying is far more insidious: what you have isn’t enough. And by extension, neither are you.
Over the years, in changing rooms and styling sessions, I’ve heard the same questions on repeat, spoken softly but carrying so much weight.
Am I slim enough? Young enough? Rich enough? Relevant enough to wear this?
These aren’t really questions about clothing. They are questions about worth. About belonging. About whether we’re allowed to take up space in our own skin.
When we stop measuring our worth in outfits, we start dressing for ourselves again.
Fashion trades in desire. The thrill of possibility, of becoming. But somewhere along the way, desire turned into doubt. Fast fashion thrives on urgency, convincing us that what we wore last season is already obsolete. Algorithms serve up curated perfection, whispering that reinvention equals relevance. But confidence can’t be bought. The myth of “more” doesn’t just fill our wardrobes; it fills our minds. It leaves us anxious, comparing, and always one purchase away from feeling “enough.”
When I started in fashion, I wanted to create something slower, something built on integrity, not speed. Every piece is designed and made in Sydney, touched by fewer than fifteen pairs of hands from sketch to dispatch. I know those hands personally. The makers, the cutters, the packers and that connection gives each piece meaning.
When you buy something made with integrity, you’re not just purchasing clothing, you’re buying peace of mind. Fashion can still be joyful, expressive, and fun. It just doesn’t have to be endless.
In an industry obsessed with “more,” choosing “less” can feel radical. But to me, success isn’t measured in volume; it’s measured in values.
You want to be able to open your wardrobe and feel settled, not scattered. That sense of enoughness, that quiet confidence, is what I believe fashion should give us. It’s not loud or showy. It’s grounded, steady, self-assured. That’s the quiet revolution fashion needs.
Every November, the world goes into overdrive. Black Friday. Cyber Monday. The flashing deals. The countdowns. The panic to buy before it’s gone. But nothing truly valuable disappears in a day. But when everything is “on sale,” value itself loses meaning. Before buying, I always ask myself: Do I need this, or am I being sold the idea that I do? There’s real power in that pause.
Dismantling the myth of “more” isn’t about deprivation, it’s about liberation. It’s about dressing from a place of confidence, not comparison. About showing up in clothes that reflect who you already are, not who you think you need to become. Getting dressed can be one of the most empowering rituals in a woman’s day. It’s a quiet declaration of self. True style isn’t about reinvention. It’s about recognition, knowing who you are and dressing in alignment with that truth. You don’t need more to feel enough. You already are.
