Hello from Michigan

Today, I’m writing to you from a very different place - physically, emotionally, and in more ways than I am only beginning to understand.

For those unfamiliar with my geographical history, a brief recap: I was born and raised in New York City, moved to Los Angeles after college, and spent twelve formative years there. In 2021, pregnant with my first son Oliver, my husband and I relocated to Miami. As we looked ahead toward building a family, we knew we wanted to be closer to relatives- not quite ready for New York or Michigan, but near enough to feel supported.

We built a beautiful life in Coconut Grove, FL and welcomed our second son, Teddy, in March of 2024.

Then, in August 2025, somewhat suddenly and entirely decisively, we decided we wanted to move to Michigan.

My husband’s family is here- including two older boy cousins whom Oliver and Teddy absolutely idolize. We found ourselves craving a different rhythm. Something slower. Something steadier. Extra hands, yes, but also a deeper sense of rootedness. As the saying goes, it takes a village.

We have been here just over a month now, and what a breath of very cold air it has been.

Here is the astonishing part: I went sixteen years without seasons, only to arrive in Michigan on January 1st - in what locals assure me is one of the snowiest, coldest winters in recent memory.

People thought we were slightly unhinged.

But the truth is, I have missed the seasons for a very long time.

Arriving here, in the quiet severity of winter, clarified something I had only vaguely understood before: as someone prone to anxiety, the absence of seasonal markers- those natural passages of time, left me feeling a bit untethered. Seasons offer punctuation. Without them, the years can blur into one continuous sentence.

Growing up with seasons imprints something on you. And for the first time in sixteen years, I feel as though I am returning to a truer version of myself.

Yes, it is freezing. Yes, this winter has been intense.

And yet, I love it.

Even better, my children love it. They had never seen snow before; we arrived to inches already blanketing the ground. Oliver, formerly a devoted Miami water-slide enthusiast, is now wholly committed to sledding.

Children adapt so effortlessly…though, to my surprise, I found myself equally delighted by it all.

I feel grounded in a way that surprises me.. grounded by the cold, by the snow, the necessity of proper boots and evenings that arrive sooner than expected. Even aesthetically, I welcome the return to seasonal dressing. I adore layers.

And as I write this, a small realization arrives: perhaps my love of layers has always extended far beyond clothing…into my studio practice, my home, my work. Layers upon layers upon layers. Texture. Depth. Accumulation.

Maybe this is not a new instinct at all, but a returning one.

I am now in the latter half of my thirties, an age that seems, regardless of where you stand relative to it, to usher in a certain clarity. A grounding.

I feel deeply energized by my work - as an artist, an author, and a mother - and profoundly excited for what lies ahead. There is so much I look forward to sharing with you: my first book arriving later this year, illustrating a children’s book, continued collaborations with incredible brands and creatives, and expanding further into wallpaper and stationery design. This move has already begun reshaping how I want to work, live, and notice- and I look forward to sharing that unfolding here.

Thank you, truly, for being here.

There is much to come.

Curiously Yours,

Carly