Origin Story: On leaving, arriving, and the things that matter

March 13, 2026

On leaving, arriving, and the things that matter

A few months ago, I was in London, working a 9-5, doing all the things you’re supposed to do. Good job. Good colleagues. Good salary. The kind of life that looks fine from the outside but it felt increasingly hollow from the inside.

I don’t mean that dramatically, it wasn’t a crisis, not really. It was more like a quiet, persistent knowing that something had to change. A low hum that got harder to ignore.

So I left. But leaving, it turns out, is the easy part. The harder part is giving yourself permission to not know what comes next.

The detour

Before I tell you what I’m building, I will tell you how I got here.

I studied Marketing, then did an MA in Human Rights and Culture in London. The MA wasn’t exactly what I’d hoped for, Covid meant most of it happened in my living room, which isn’t the immersive experience you imagine, but it did change the way I think about the world.

It taught me to question things I’d never thought to question. Like how much of what we accept as ‘normal’ or ‘universal’ is actually just Western. Just European. Just one way of seeing the world, pretending to be the only way.

That lesson stayed with me. It’s a part of everything I do now, even if I can’t always point to exactly how.

Throughout my studies and beyond I worked in marketing. The last 3.5 were at a place I genuinely loved, with people I genuinely loved (shout out Latoyah, who might read this and roll her eyes at being mentioned). But somewhere along the way, the question shifted from ‘am I good at this?’ to ‘is this what I want to keep doing?’

The answer, slowly and quietly, became no.

The in-between

To afford this, the leaving, the travelling, the not-knowing, I moved home.

Back in with my mum and my grandma for eight months, saving every penny, eating their food, letting them fuss over me, feeling simultaneously like a fully grown adult and a complete child.

It was strange and lovely and I’m so incredibly grateful I got to do it.

That time at home was a mixed bag in other ways too. Working remotely full time, while it had its perks, did something to my mental health that I didn’t fully recognise until I was out of it. Days where I’d barely speak to anyone. I started losing touch with who I was and what’s important.

But it wasn’t all bad. The extra time meant I could pour energy into things that had nothing to do with my job. I got really into music again. Arts and crafts.

I started selling vintage clothes on Depop, partly to declutter (I’m a hoarder, it’s a problem), partly to boost my savings, but mostly because I just loved it. The finding, the photographing, the describing, the sending off to someone who would love it next. It felt authentic.

That feeling was a clue. I just didn’t know it yet.

The question

Now I’m travelling, meeting new people every day, and giving myself the headspace I should have carved out years ago. It’s easier to think clearly when you’re not trapped in the same routine, the same commute, the same exhaustion.

The question I’ve been sitting with is this: what actually matters?

Not in a vague, philosophical way. In a practical, I-have-to-make-a-living way. In a how-do-I-want-to-spend-my-days way. In a what-would-make-me-feel-like-myself-again way.

I’ve reframed it now. It’s not ‘what job should I do next?’ It’s:

‘What’s important to me?’ and ’How can I build something authentic that connects what I care about with a way to live?’

That’s where Ritual & Relic comes in.

The thing I’m building

Ritual & Relic is the answer to all those threads. It brings together my marketing background, my interest in culture and community, my love for handcrafted and vintage things, and my need for genuine connection.

In a world that feels increasingly isolating, I want to build a space that does the opposite.

Ritual & Relic will be an online community and marketplace for independent makers and sellers. A place for people who put their hearts into their work, and for people who want objects with story. It’s about connection, not just transactions. About creativity, authenticity, and the relics and rituals that give life.

The Ritual

Community is the point. In a world that measures worth in currency, we measure it in connection.

Ritual is the beating heart of what we’re building, a gathering place for those who believe the most valuable things can’t be bought.

We’ll share:

Workshops & pop-ups
Exhibitions and conversations
Mixes and playlists for your own rituals, the private ones, the ones that keep you sane
Book recommendations that have moved us
Recipes passed down and reimagined
Events that feel like gatherings rather than transactions

The ritual is whatever we make it. An invitation to slow down, to create, to share, to belong.

The Relic

Objects carry energy. They hold memory.

The Relic is our marketplace, but it’s not really about shopping. It’s about stewardship. Selected artists and makers offer items that refuse to be disposable, each one carrying a story that matters.

For vintage pieces, the ritual lives in where they’ve been. A 1970s leather jacket that toured sticky underground clubs. A silk scarf that belonged to someone’s grandmother. These things have lived before. They will live again.

For handmade items, the story is in the hours, the obsession, the materials chosen for a reason. Ceramics you can feel the weight of. Textiles with wonky edges that prove a person made them. Objects that refuse to be forgotten in a drawer.

Curated vinyl. Vintage with actual soul. Things you’ll want to keep forever and pass on when you’re done.

One day

One day this becomes a physical space. A place you can walk into, run your hands along the racks, argue about records, sit on something uncomfortable and stay too long.

For now, it’s here. An online space. A beginning.