I have a 16-year-old son who is currently preparing for his GCSEs, thinking about sixth forms, choosing A-levels and being asked what he wants to do with his life.
He’s SIXTEEN.
At sixteen, I was probably more concerned about what I was going to wear on Saturday night and whether the boy I fancied was going to be there.
And now I’m nearly 40, running two projects, discovering new interests and occasionally wondering how I’ve managed to add yet another thing to my already ridiculous diary.
So apparently the expectation is that at sixteen we should know where we’re going, but at forty we’re allowed to realise we might want to go somewhere completely different.
Interesting system we’ve invented.
But seriously, isn’t it a little mad how much we expect young people to know about themselves before they’ve had the chance to experience very much of the world?
And I understand it. Of course we need to make decisions, choose subjects, think about opportunities and prepare for the future. I’m very involved in helping my son navigate all of that, and I genuinely enjoy seeing how he thinks, what interests him and the way his personality is developing.
But sometimes I listen to all these conversations about careers and future plans, and I can’t help wondering how we’re supposed to know what we’ll love doing for the rest of our lives when we haven’t even discovered half the things we might love yet.
I’m about to turn 40, and I’m still discovering things about myself. I’ve changed careers, started businesses, developed interests I never imagined having and met people who have completely changed the way I look at certain things.
And I hope that continues.
Imagine reaching an age where there’s nothing left to discover about yourself.
How terribly boring.
Anyway, all this came to mind because last Sunday something rather lovely happened.
I was working backstage as a stylist at London Fashion Day, supporting designer Diana from By Kaminski, and my son Emmanuele came along to volunteer.
Now, I’ve worked on fashion productions before, and I absolutely love that world. The creativity, the people, the beautiful chaos of getting everything ready, trying to solve fifteen problems simultaneously while somebody is asking where the shoes are.
It’s wonderful.
And occasionally completely ridiculous.
But this time was different because I had my son there.
And it was such a lovely experience watching him discover this part of my world from the inside.
He wasn’t there simply to watch his mum working. He had a role, he was helping, meeting people and becoming part of the whole experience.
And then he started networking.
MY SON.
Networking like a bloody professional.
At one point, he was talking with the head of the London College of Contemporary Arts, asking questions and engaging in conversation as though meeting people from the industry was something he’d been doing his entire life.
And later he was discussing the commercial and marketing side of fashion with the designer.
Now, I’m not saying this because I think he’s destined to become the next CEO of a luxury fashion house.
Although if that happens, I’ll happily accept the invitations.
What fascinated me was seeing how naturally he approached people and how interested he was in understanding the business behind what was happening.
Because fashion, of course, isn’t only about beautiful clothes.
There’s design, production, branding, marketing, communication, commercial strategy, relationships, creativity and a whole industry of people whose work rarely gets seen when we’re watching a model walk down a runway.
And suddenly he was getting a glimpse of all of it.
Perhaps he’ll decide he wants to explore something connected to business or marketing. Perhaps he’ll discover a completely different interest next month.
I genuinely don’t know.
And I think that’s the beautiful part.
He doesn’t need to know yet.
What he does need, I believe, is the opportunity to experience different environments, meet people, discover what excites him and notice the abilities he already has.
Because sometimes we don’t recognise our strengths until we find ourselves in a situation where we get to use them.
And something else happened that I hadn’t necessarily expected.
We had such a wonderful time together.
Not just because we were doing something exciting, but because for a day we were sharing an interest as two people rather than simply following our usual roles as mother and son.
Of course, I’m still his mum. That doesn’t change, and I imagine I’ll continue reminding him about things he insists he was already going to do for quite some time.
But I got to watch him interact with the world from a slightly different position.
And he got to see me doing something I love.
I think that’s really special.
Because as parents, we spend so much of our time organising, guiding, worrying, reminding and trying to make sure our children are prepared for whatever comes next.
Particularly during GCSE year, when apparently every conversation can somehow end up involving revision, predicted grades or sixth-form applications.
Honestly, even asking whether somebody wants another potato at dinner can feel like the beginning of a strategic planning meeting.
But last Sunday, none of that mattered.
We were simply enjoying an experience together.
And I could see parts of his personality expressing themselves without anybody asking him to demonstrate anything.
Which got me thinking about identity, something I’ve been writing about quite a lot recently.
We seem to have this obsession with defining ourselves.
What’s your personal brand? What’s your career plan? What’s your five-year strategy? What kind of person are you?
And there’s nothing wrong with having direction. I’m a business owner; I understand perfectly well why planning matters.
But I also think we can become so focused on deciding who we are that we forget to leave room for discovering what else is there.
I see a version of this in my work as a personal stylist.
Women come to me with very established ideas about what they can and cannot wear.
I’m not a dress person. I don’t wear colour. That style isn’t me. I couldn’t possibly pull that off.
And sometimes those preferences are genuine. They know exactly what they enjoy, and that’s wonderful.
But other times, when we start experimenting with their existing clothes, something interesting happens.
We put together an outfit they would never have considered, and suddenly they’re looking in the mirror with the biggest smile.
Not because I’ve transformed them into somebody else.
But because they’ve discovered another way of expressing something that was already part of them.
And I love that moment.
It’s one of the reasons I don’t particularly like the idea that personal style has to be one fixed aesthetic we identify and then follow for the rest of our lives.
Imagine deciding at 25 that you’re a minimalist and then spending the next forty years refusing to wear anything colourful because you’ve already committed to the identity.
What if you suddenly fall in love with a ridiculous pair of red shoes at 43?
Are we supposed to call the authorities?
Personal style can have consistency without becoming a prison.
You can recognise the colours, shapes and outfit formulas that work for you while still allowing yourself to experiment, have fun and discover new preferences.
And I think the same applies to life.
We can have values, strengths, interests and a sense of who we are without needing to predict every version of how those qualities might express themselves in the future.
Which takes me back to my son.
I don’t particularly want him to feel that choosing his A-levels means choosing the entire person he’s going to be.
I want him to take those decisions seriously, of course. I want him to work hard, understand the opportunities available to him and develop the discipline to pursue things that matter.
But I also want him to remain curious.
To understand that what he chooses to study next is an important step, not a lifelong contract.
That it’s perfectly possible to be good at something and later discover something else you love just as much.
That meeting someone, volunteering, trying a new activity or having an unexpected conversation can open possibilities you didn’t even know existed.
And perhaps that’s something we adults could remind ourselves of occasionally, too.
Because I still meet women who tell me they’d love to start something, try something, study something or change direction, but they feel it’s too late.
Too late according to whom?
I’m approaching 40, running my styling business, building What’s Worth Wearing with my business partner Rickylee, getting involved in more editorial work, meeting fascinating people and continuously finding new things that interest me.
And I have no intention of deciding that I’ve now discovered everything I’m allowed to enjoy.
Thank you very much.
In fact, I rather like not knowing exactly where everything will lead.
Not knowing doesn’t mean I’m lost. Sometimes it simply means there are possibilities I haven’t encountered yet.
And that’s what Sunday reminded me of.
My son didn’t leave London Fashion Day with a fully developed career plan.
He left having met interesting people, experienced a professional environment, contributed to a designer’s show and perhaps discovered a little more about what he enjoys and what he’s capable of.
And I left with some lovely memories of a day spent doing something I love with one of the people I love most.
There was also the rather amusing experience of watching my teenage son network better than some adults I’ve met at business events.
Which, frankly, I’m still processing.
I don’t know what he’ll choose to do in the future.
I don’t know exactly where my own businesses will take me over the next ten years, either.
And I think I’m quite happy allowing both of those things to unfold while we continue making decisions, learning and enjoying what’s happening along the way.
Perhaps we don’t always need a perfectly defined destination to recognise that we’re having a wonderful time on the journey.
Although I would appreciate it if the journey occasionally involved fewer school emails.
Love,
Carolina x
P.S. I’m curious about something. Are you doing the work you thought you’d be doing when you were sixteen? Or did life take you somewhere you never imagined? I’d LOVE to hear how you ended up where you are today, particularly if the story involves a completely unexpected turn.