this was always the plan

how this newsletter, a boring job, and a year of trying convinced me to build a clothing brand

I’m starting a clothing brand. And it’s going to be so fucking sick.

But first, let’s rewind a little.

Since sophomore year of college, I’ve wanted to build something of my own. That itch—the need to create, to own something from start to finish—has been with me for years. In fact, the reason why I created this newsletter was because I thought I could turn it into a business. Crazy how much my priorities have changed.

Of course, I’m not the only 24-year-old who dreams of running their own business. And it makes sense—when you’re young, the risk-to-reward ratio is basically broken in your favor. You’ve got higher risk tolerance, more energy, fewer obligations. People are willing to bet not just on what you’ve done, but on who you’re becoming. Potential carries weight. Failure is romanticized because there is growth through suffering and rarely any real-world consequences. You get to bounce back, recalibrate, and try again.

That’s the magic of building in your 20s. There is so much in this world that excites you, it feels like everyday you stumble across something—a skill, an obsession, a weird idea you can’t stop thinking about—and it grabs you by the collar, seductively whispering that you are the one meant to bring it to life. And when that moment hits, it’s hard not to feel totally, stupidly, beautifully consumed.

There are few moments in life where things appear with such clarity as this. I say that as someone completely intoxicated by the moment.

The main reason why I’ve felt this pull toward entrepreneurship is because of how discouraged I’ve felt at my full time job.

Back in 2019, I lucked out and fulfilled my parent’s dream by getting into an Ivy League university. As someone lacking a strong calling, I studied computer science and economics—two of the most practical majors—and graduated in 2023 with a job offer from one of the biggest banks in the country.

As an entry-level analyst, I earn $110k in base salary a year, and my managers and leadership make several times that amount. The job isn’t easy, but it’s not back-breaking either. I rarely work more than 50 hours a week and my weekends are always free.

And yet, I feel incredibly unfulfilled.

David Foster Wallace once said:

“I think that the ultimate way you and I get lucky is if you have some success early in life, you get to find out early it doesn't mean anything. Which means you get to start early the work of figuring out what does mean something.”

I think that’s where I am. I’ve tasted conventional success. And now I know it’s not what I’m after.

A stable corporate future doesn’t excite me. Maybe it’s because I didn’t grow up around it—neither of my parents worked in the corporate world. And while a job like mine promises a big house in the suburbs, private school for my kids, all that jazz, that kind of security doesn’t motivate me. I never had those things growing up, and I don’t see them as being necessary now for a happy life.

What I do value is time, energy, and the potential of using both on something that matters. This is where I think more people should have a bit of an ego—your time and energy are worth protecting. Personally, I want to spend my career striving to be the best. But after two years in corporate, I’ve realized I’ll never thrive in that world for personal reasons: I have a visceral reaction to poor communication, fake professionalism, outdated systems, and environments where honesty is discouraged.

And yet, I’m not discouraged about my future, because I believe I have what it takes to build something real. I work hard, I adapt fast, I love learning, and I don’t sugarcoat things.

In response to this corporate dissatisfaction, I’ve tried a lot of things outside of my 9-5 job. I tried web design. I built a neural network for NBA betting. I made simple apps. I wrote and podcasted. I studied dropshipping and Amazon FBA. I almost dropped everything to become a barista and open a café. I considered college essay coaching. I started a cooking newsletter. None of them stuck because they were either too profit-driven, not creative enough, or, plain and simple, just boring as hell.

But through it all, I was learning. Building a stack of skills outside of my job. Earning the right to believe in myself.

Then, a few weeks ago on YouTube, I stumbled onto Daniel Dalen. Then Bruno Casanovas. Then Marcus Milleone. And something finally clicked.

I realized I wanted to build a clothing brand. Not just about clothes, but about brand as business. A brand that’s about people. About energy. About taste.

The problem is, I don’t know how to build a brand or do social media marketing. But having fun? Bringing people together through a common mission? Amplifying meaningful voices and stories? I think I can be the best at that.

Which brings us to today.

Writing will continue to be my storytelling engine, but I imagine the vibe of the newsletter shifting a little bit in the coming months. While I love writing fiction and poetry, that’s never been the core reason I show up here. This newsletter has always been, at its core, a way to document my life. To capture thoughts, doubts, ideas, and communicate them through a creative medium.

Lately, I can’t sleep. Not from anxiety, but excitement. Every night, I tell myself: slow slow slow. I’ve probably written that in my journal every morning for a week. I know patience is key. I know this kind of success doesn’t happen overnight. But there’s so much to build. So much to test, to explore, to share—I don’t want to sleep.

I’m excited to keep writing. To keep sharing. To build a life that excites me. To fully embrace this new challenge and purpose as the creative lead of a brand.

I started this newsletter thinking it could become a business. While that never manifested, it taught me how to show up, how to think out loud, and how to trust my voice. And in the end, it gave me the audacity to start building the clothing brand I wish existed.

Hope you can tag along for our journey.