What We Wear While Becoming

I opened Michelle Obama's latest book The Look  late one night, thinking I’d read a few pages before bed. By the time I reached the dedication, I was in tears.

She wrote:

“To all of the people behind the scenes of fashion and beauty who use their expert hands and creative gifts to make us feel our best…your work is a gift that does not go unnoticed, one that takes many forms. A  compliment we receive, a jolt of electricity we feel from the mirror looking back at us, a sturdier belief in ourselves and the things we might do. Thank you for your dedication, your artistry, and your patience. Thank you for you.”

By the end of the second chapter, I knew I’d found a kindred spirit.

Her book isn’t just about fashion. It’s about identity, evolution, and the language of self-expression that clothing can hold. She writes about the memories stitched into fabric, the meaning behind what we choose to wear, and the quiet power of how we show up. Every word felt familiar, like she was speaking to a truth I’ve lived my whole life.

My own mother, like hers, sewed most of my clothes. Back then, I didn’t realize the lessons she was passing along. The creativity, the care, the understanding that style could be something deeply personal. Each hem and buttonhole was her way of saying, You are worth the effort.

Reading The Look, I felt that same message echo through Michelle’s stories. The way we dress isn’t frivolous. It’s formative. It’s how we tell the world who we are and remind ourselves where we’ve come from.

For years, I’ve said that a wardrobe can be a mirror for the soul. Michelle’s words reminded me that it’s also a map—one that traces where we’ve been, and where we’re brave enough to go next.

Midlife, in particular, asks us to reintroduce ourselves. To step into change. To stop apologizing for taking up space. The Look acknowledges that the clothes we wear can help us do that—if we choose them with intention, honesty, and heart.

As I turned the pages, I felt seen. Not as the woman who writes about style, but as the little girl whose mother stitched her self-worth into every handmade dress.

I’m so deeply grateful for what I do. For the opportunity to help women see themselves with kinder eyes, to remind them they are already beautiful, and to encourage them to be their own kind of beautiful. It’s work that never stops humbling me.

Michelle’s book is a love letter to becoming—and a reminder that what we wear while we do it still matters.