College Essay (Westminster High School Student, University of St. Andrews, Scotland)
Hot glue, cardboard, and puffy stickers. To me as an artistic eight year old designing my first pair of shoes, these three basic materials were the first steps toward confidence. I was brimming with creativity and searching for an outlet. With those scraps, I began down the path of self-discovery and expression. I was proud of my creation. I didn’t need validation, but when my mother compared my shoes to Choo and Blahnik, I felt a jolt to keep creating. I realized it wasn’t the shoes themselves that excited me, but the sense of possibility that accompanied them.
At first, I was insecure about sharing my ideas, but as I received positive feedback, I wanted to create more; shoes, dresses, and necklaces filled my collection. Along with my fashion sense, my confidence grew stronger. I became more comfortable using my voice and advocating for myself. I discovered that by building outfits, I could also build courage. I began to wonder: what if clothing could give that same power to others?
That question led me to Uncommon Threads, a women’s empowerment boutique where fashion isn’t about labels, but about dignity and possibility. It was the perfect place to connect my passion for clothing with my desire to help others feel strong. The environment exuted warmth, and the work gave me the chance to use my voice in new ways. I learned to communicate in an office setting and even co-led a presentation for local youth about dressing for corporate jobs. More than that, I began to notice patterns: how posture straightened when women liked what they wore, how eye contact grew steadier, how laughter came more easily. The aspiring psychologist in me grew curious as to why a flowing dress or pair of heels could shift someone’s entire sense of self. Clothing was no longer just fabric, it was a case study in human behavior.
Each day at the boutique taught me that clothing could be a bridge: between past and future, insecurity and strength, hesitation and pride. I saw women light up when they found an outfit that felt like “theirs.” But it wasn’t until I met June, a woman in her fifties searching for something elegant for church, that I truly understood the transformation confidence could spark.
June entered the dressing room with slumped shoulders and uncertainty in her eyes. Outfit after outfit, she grew increasingly comfortable with me and I grew more passionate for the task at hand. When she walked out of the dressing room in a knee-length cream eyelet dress, she looked elegant but not yet complete.
“¿Podemos probar una chaqueta?” (“Can we try a jacket?”) she asked.
“¡Sí, volveré pronto con él!” (“Yes, I will be back soon with it”) I responded.
When I returned with the perfect denim jacket – a light wash with silver buttons, a size too small but with stretch – June’s eyes twinkled. In that moment, she wasn’t just trying on clothes—she was trying on a version of herself she loved. And in helping her get there, I was stepping into my best self.
Those glue-gunned shoes gave me more than decoration, they gave me confidence. Now, when I help someone like June step into an outfit that makes her feel powerful, I recognize that same spark. It isn’t just about fashion – it’s about the psychology of how people see themselves, and what helps them grow. That curiosity has me eager to study how identity and resilience take shape, and how small interventions – whether through words, clothing, or counseling – can unlock something greater. Just as cardboard and stickers once helped me build my own courage, I plan to explore how the right tools can help others step into the best version of themselves.