Collecting Data On Yourself
You can't think your way into knowing what you love.
Whenever I need a dose of inspiration, I turn to one of two men. Not the Pinterest kind of inspiration, but the kind that cracks you open and makes you question yourself a little deeper. The kind of men who have taste, admiration, and a point of view that I very much respect. Enter: Steve Jobs and Rick Rubin.
There’s something about Jobs’ Stanford commencement speech that still strikes a chord. Find what you love.
I think, in some way, I’m always on the hunt to find what I love. I’m envious of people with a true capsule wardrobe, who drink black coffee every day, who say no more than they say yes — and who feel certain about the person they are. How their choices manifest into a daily life, a routine, a way of moving through the world that is entirely their own.
I want that. To be sure. Sure of what I like, what I don’t, and everything in between.
I wanted to love living in New York.
Why wouldn’t I?
The opportunity, the energy, the restaurants. God knows I love a good meal. What it would say about me that I lived there. The chip on my shoulder I could carry just for surviving it.
And I did love it, at first. It was new and electric and I was completely taken with it. But somewhere along the way I started to realize I didn’t love it anymore, not really. And I thought that meant something was wrong with me — that I wasn’t built for a city that big, that I should push through, that leaving would be some kind of admission of failure.
What I actually needed was space. Physically and mentally. Looking back, my favorite moments in New York were the times I’d drag a lawn chair to the West Side Highway and just sit there. I was always looking for the quiet version of the city. That probably should have told me something.
Two years ago I moved to LA. I know I talk about it constantly, but it remains one of the most important decisions of my life — and I didn’t make it because I knew I’d love it here. I made it because I finally accepted that I didn’t love it there.
Now I’m sure. Much more sure than that girl at 26.
I’m sure I love Los Angeles — parts of it at least. I’m sure I need a full-sized kitchen to feel like myself. I’m sure that every morning, tucking in both sides of the duvet (something I could never do when my bed was shoved against the wall) is a small and genuine pleasure. I’m sure that going outside every day is non-negotiable and that the ocean does something for me that nothing else does. And I’m sure that home, both the place and the concept, is where I actually want to be. I spend most of my time here. I work here, eat here, decompress here. And I don’t say any of that with resignation — I say it with certainty.
I’m learning, decision by decision, what Wallis actually likes.
Ina Garten’s Substack landed in my inbox recently and one line stopped me: “You should learn to cook what you love to eat.” It sounds almost too simple. But there’s real permission inside it — to stop performing taste, to stop choosing what you think you should like, to trust your own preferences even when they’re unfashionable or unglamorous or just plainly and simply yours.
Most people don't actually know what they like. They know what looks right. They know what the people they admire seem certain about. And now there's an entire machine designed to show you other people's certainty on a loop, which makes it even harder to hear yourself think. It's very easy to curate a life that looks right and feels like nothing.
The only way I know to get around it is elimination. You can’t think your way into knowing what you love. You have to try things, sit with them, and be honest about whether they fit. The things that don’t are not wasted time. They’re data.
I didn’t love living in New York. I do love tucking in both sides of my duvet. I don’t like wearing makeup. It feels gross and sticky and I’m better off without it. I don’t like brushing my hair either. It never looks good and I always lose my natural curls doing it. I love Diet Coke, Arnold Palmers and watermelon anything. I don’t like going to bed late and I especially don’t like sleeping in. I love wearing flip flops, probably more than anyone you’ll ever meet and have a hard time packing for a trip in a carry on. I just prefer to check my bags, regardless of the flights I’ve missed because my bag was delayed.
These things have taught me something.
None of it is particularly impressive. But all of it is mine. Every closed-toe shoe I wore when I wanted flip flops, every time I chose a carry on, regretful of the lack of options in my suitcase — that’s data. And data, when you actually use it, starts to look a lot like knowing yourself.
It’s not that profound. It’s just paying attention.
And then, the harder part, actually trusting yourself…
Thanks for reading,
xo Barefoot
“…to stop choosing what you think you should like…” THAT.
❣️