Latest / Style Project: Lifestyle, beauty & modern living / Why Your Unfinished Projects Are Actually Your Best Work | Style Project
Transcript
- There is a specific kind of panic that lives in the back of your closet, tucked between the winter coats and the shoes you haven’t worn in years. It’s not just clutter; it’s a graveyard of good intentions, half-knitted scarves, and sketchbooks filled with drawings you were too afraid to finish. I want you to take a deep breath with me right now. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Let your shoulders drop away from your ears. I know you’ve had a long day. I know you came home, kicked off your heels, and maybe stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment, wondering if today felt like enough. Before we dive into anything else, I need you to be honest with me about one thing. How many creative projects are sitting on your desk, in your bag, or hidden in a drawer, completely abandoned? Maybe it’s a watercolor set you bought three months ago because you saw an influencer painting serene landscapes. Maybe it’s that novel you started writing during a particularly inspiring coffee shop afternoon. Or perhaps it’s the skincare routine you meticulously mapped out in January, which currently consists of nothing but a single tube of moisturizer you found under the sink. I used to carry this weight around with me like a heavy stone in my pocket. Every time I passed a craft store, I felt a pinch of guilt. Every time I saw someone post their finished portfolio, I felt a sharp, hot sting of inadequacy. We live in a world that celebrates the launch, the reveal, the final polished product. We scroll through feeds filled with completed renovations, baked sourdough loaves, and published books. We don’t see the burnt toast. We don’t see the paint splatters on the floor. We don’t see the hours spent staring at a blank canvas, paralyzed by the fear that it will never look like what we imagined in our heads. But here is the truth that I have learned, slowly and often painfully: the messiness of starting is where the magic actually happens. The unfinished project is not a failure. It is a conversation that hasn’t ended yet. Let’s unpack that feeling of failure for a moment. Why do we feel so compelled to finish everything we start? Is it because we think it proves our worth? Is it because we’re terrified that if we stop, people will realize we aren’t as talented as they thought? I think it’s simpler than that. It’s about control. In a life that often feels chaotic and unpredictable, finishing a task gives us a tiny island of certainty. When we complete a project, we can check a box. We can say, 'It is done.' And then we can move on. But creativity doesn’t work in boxes. Creativity is fluid. It ebbs and flows. It demands rest. I remember early in my career, working backstage at fashion week. The energy was electric, frantic, beautiful. There were hundreds of garments being pinned, stitched, and steamed in real-time. But there were also pieces that didn’t make the runway. Dresses that looked perfect on the hanger but fell flat under the lights. Sketches that were thrown into a bin before they were even fully inked. At the time, I thought those discarded ideas were trash. Now, I realize they were necessary steps. They taught me what didn’t work. They taught me how to edit. The art of the edit isn’t about removing the bad parts; it’s about recognizing when something has said what it needs to say, and having the grace to let it go. You don’t owe every idea your life. Some ideas are just visitors. They come in, knock on the door, share a cup of tea, and leave. That doesn’t mean they failed. It means they served their purpose. This brings me to something I talk about often: wearing your own skin. In fashion, we talk about finding a silhouette that flatters your body type, or a color palette that brightens your complexion. But in creativity, wearing your own skin means accepting your current state, exactly as it is. If you are tired, your creative output might be small. If you are joyful, it might be expansive. If you are grieving, it might be silent. All of these are valid. All of these are part of the work. I recently spoke with a listener named Elena who wrote in to tell me she had stopped knitting. She loved the rhythm of it, the way the yarn felt between her fingers, but she couldn’t bring herself to finish a sweater she’d been working on for six months. She felt like she was letting down her grandmother, who had taught her to knit. She felt like she was wasting the materials. I told her to look at the half-finished sweater. Look at the pattern. Look at the texture. It is still beautiful. It is still hers. The act of making it was the gift, not the completion of it. When we tie our self-worth to the completion of tasks, we become fragile. We become dependent on external validation. But when we learn to love the process, even the messy, stalled, incomplete parts, we become resilient. We become free. You are not a machine designed to produce outcomes. You are a human being designed to experience life. And life is rarely neat. So, I want to give you permission. A formal, written, signed permission slip to leave things unfinished. To put down the pen. To close the laptop. To hang up the brush. You do not need to apologize for it. You do not need to explain it to anyone. Especially not to me. Especially not to the internet. The world will keep spinning whether you finish that blog post or not. The plants will keep growing whether you water them on schedule or not. Your friends will still love you whether you reply to their texts immediately or not. I find that when I release the pressure to finish, my creativity actually expands. I start to play more. I take risks. I try new mediums. I fail more often, but I also succeed in ways I never expected. Because I am no longer trying to prove something. I am just exploring. There is a profound peace in saying, 'I am working on this, but I am not finished with it yet.' That phrase changes everything. It acknowledges progress without demanding perfection. It honors the present moment without fearing the future. It allows you to be exactly where you are, without judgment. So tonight, I invite you to look at your own list of unfinished things. Pick one. Just one. And say thank you to it. Thank it for showing up. Thank it for teaching you something. And then, gently, let it go for tonight. Go make some tea. Put on some music. Breathe. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Mercedes, this sounds lovely, but what about responsibilities? What about the projects that actually need to be finished? What about the deadlines? I hear you. This is not advice to abandon your duties or neglect your commitments. This is advice to change your relationship with your creative energy. Think of it like curating a wardrobe. You cannot wear every piece you own every day. You choose what fits your mood, your occasion, your season of life. Some days you wear the structured blazer. Some days you wear the soft linen dress. Some days you stay in pajamas. All of these choices are correct. Your creative projects are the same. Some days you are in the phase of drafting. Some days you are in the phase of editing. Some days you are in the phase of resting. Rest is not the opposite of work. Rest is part of the work. It is where your subconscious processes the information. It is where the connections are made. When you step away from a problem, your brain continues to solve it in the background. This is why you get your best ideas in the shower. This is why solutions appear after a good night’s sleep. Trust the pause. Trust the gap. Trust that the unfinished project is still alive, even when you are not actively touching it. It is waiting for you. It is patient. It knows you will return when you are ready, not when you are forced. Let’s reframe the narrative for a moment. Instead of seeing unfinished projects as failures, see them as chapters. A book with missing pages is still a story. A painting with visible underlayers is still art. The history of the work is visible. It adds depth. It adds character. It shows that you were there, struggling, trying, growing. Perfection is sterile. It has no soul. Messiness has soul. Messiness has humanity. When you embrace the messiness of your creative life, you connect with others on a deeper level. People don’t relate to your highlights reel. They relate to your behind-the-scenes chaos. They relate to the times you got stuck. They relate to the times you wanted to quit. By sharing your unfinished work, you give others permission to do the same. You create a community of authenticity. You build a space where it is safe to be a work in progress. And isn’t that what we all crave? To be seen, not for what we have achieved, but for who we are becoming. You are becoming. You are always becoming. There is no final destination where you arrive and say, 'I am complete.' We are always evolving. Always learning. Always creating. So let yourself be incomplete. Let yourself be uncertain. Let yourself be beautifully, wonderfully unfinished. Because in that space, you are most alive. You are most yourself. And that is the only style that truly matters. Thank you for letting me into your space today. Take care of that unfinished project with kindness, and take care of yourself with the same grace. Until next time, wear your own skin. I’ll be listening.