Personal brands are usually spoken about online as if they’re bordering on influencer territory. Make a vision board, choose certain fonts, post in a consistent colour palette, and suddenly you’ve built a brand. But your personal brand is really just your reputation. It already exists. It’s what people say about you when you’re not in the room. It’s how your best friend would describe you. That is your brand.

Now, you could argue this is giving late stage capitalism. Why should everyone have a brand? But when you really think about it, we’re doing this anyway. We are forced to market ourselves in the job market, dating market, and even in the friendship market. Some people are simply more intentional about it than others.

What’s undeniable is that your brand matters. Arguably, the people who go through life unintentionally are still building brands, but they’re not in control of them.

In this issue:

• Why your personal brand already exists, even if you’ve never posted online

• The reason your reputation is one of your most underrated assets

• Why changing your style every second makes you harder to remember

• How speaking with authority can create career leverage before you feel “ready”

• Why doubling down on what works usually has a higher ROI than doing everything

Your personal brand is not just about being known. It’s about being known for something. If you want to get ahead, whether that’s through opportunities, connections, recognition, career growth, or business, you have to start thinking about your personal brand both online and offline.

Stop changing your style every second

This is why people who repeat outfits often have such a strong personal brand.

At the start, you think you should be exciting and wear something new all the time. But actually, wearing the same thing regularly or having a signature uniform is how you build recognition. People start to associate certain colours, shapes, silhouettes, phrases, values, or habits with you.

It’s like when a friend says, “This is so you.” They’ve come to associate certain things with you, and that’s how you know you’ve got a brand.

It could be a signature blush. It could be a certain type of outfit. It could even be something you’re doing unconsciously. But the point is, try not to change all the time.

Branding yourself often means sticking with the same things long enough for them to become recognisable. Consistency compounds. The more people see the same cues, the easier it is for them to remember you.

Speak with authority

This is about showing up and being visible. That doesn’t just mean posting TikToks. It could mean writing LinkedIn posts about your industry, your interests, your expertise, or the skills you’re building.

You don’t have to wait until you’re a senior manager to start. You can start today, and it can get you more opportunities.

Only a tiny percentage of people actually post on LinkedIn, and this isn’t even an ad. I just feel strongly about this because successful personal brands do not have to involve conventional influencing. I know talent managers, agency owners, founders, consultants, and creatives who don’t make content in the traditional sense, but they go on podcasts, speak at events, run workshops, write online, and become known in their space.

You may not want to do all of those things, but it shows the options are there. Outside of influencing, you can still build authority, and that authority can boost your career.

But you won’t get those opportunities by waiting for them to happen. You get them by acting like someone who already belongs in those rooms.

Double down on what’s working

I’m a huge advocate for diversifying your income, and if you create content, diversifying your platforms so you’re not dependent on one algorithm.

However, there is a lot to be said for spreading yourself too thin.

This is something I’ve really felt recently. I’ve tried to post on every single platform, and I don’t think it served me that well. Short form is my bread and butter. That is where I understand the format, the audience, the storytelling, the hooks, and the rhythm. That is where I have the highest ROI.

So think about the things that actually give you the highest return. It might be one platform. It might be one skill. It might be one type of work. It might be one relationship that keeps paying dividends.

When you are really keen to build something incredible, everything else can start to look like an opportunity. Most of it is just a distraction.

Visuals do matter

This doesn’t have to cost that much.

For example, I did a self-shoot studio photoshoot where you go in with a clicker, take your own pictures, and leave with professional-looking images. I still use those photos to this day

Obviously, I’m a former model, and I have used photographers before. I’d always love to support their work. But if you’re just starting out and you feel shy, this can be a really good option.

You don’t need a huge production. You need pictures that look clear, intentional, and like you. Something with a bit of personality. Something that makes it easier for people to understand your world.

What matters most with any brand is the packaging. It allows people to make quick decisions about whether they like something, whether it represents them, and whether it aligns with what they want to achieve. This is why my YouTube views went from 2k to 230k when I started thinking more intentionally about copywriting and thumbnails. It is a classic example of how packaging changes the way a message is perceived.

Build the brand before you need it

Your personal brand is an asset because it creates optionality.

It can make people think of you when an opportunity comes up. It can make you more memorable in a crowded industry. It can help you attract clients, jobs, friendships, collaborations, podcast invites, speaking gigs, and rooms you didn’t even know existed.

This isn’t about becoming an influencer or being performative, it’s just becoming more intentional about the reputation you are already building.

So ask yourself: if someone described me in a room I wasn’t in, would I be happy with what they said?

That’s all this week,

Mia xx

While others seem to enjoy it. Shock.

From the outside, it makes no sense. Why not just enjoy life now? We don’t know how long we’ve got, and tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.

In this issue

• Why the Die with Zero argument is compelling, but incomplete

• The problem with reading “enjoy life now” through YOLO eyes

• How saving small amounts in your early 20s becomes an unofficial cheat code

• Why an FU fund matters, particularly for women

• How buying ETFs started feeling like buying freedom

The argument for spending your money

In Bill Perkins’ book Die with Zero, he argues that instead of hoarding wealth, money’s true value is creating meaningful experiences. You should aim to spend your wealth, and not be too concerned with passing on inheritance to your kids.

This is a very strong argument, which I agree with to an extent. For example, you should travel when you’re relatively young because having that same experience at 80 won’t feel the same. It’s not impossible, but it won’t be as enjoyable.

Equally, memories pay dividends. You’re able to reflect on your life and re-live the good times, as opposed to if you just scrimped and saved with nothing to look back on.

Another interesting point is optimised inheritance. Leaving money to your kids when they are retired makes much less sense, and doing it sensibly can bypass the hefty 40% inheritance tax in the UK, although there are strict rules around this which are subject to change (not financial advice).

These are all compelling points, and I’d agree. However, if seen by the wrong eyes, the eyes of someone who’s never saved or considered things like investing, it could feed the common mindset of “YOLO” when it comes to money.

Balance in any area of life is key

Balance in any area of life is key, and I don’t believe absolutes are helpful to anyone. Just like a diet, a financial diet needs variety. If one were truly to spend endlessly, this, as we know, leads to many problems.

Having no savings or assets leaves you at the mercy of the whims of others, giving you very little optionality.

My case for saving in my early 20s, even if it started with small amounts on an entry-level wage, was that I had learnt about concepts like compound growth, investing for the long term and the benefits of delayed gratification.

I knew that starting early gave me an unofficial cheat code for getting ahead. While peers thought saving only £50 was virtually pointless, I knew it was building my emergency fund, then funding investments that could compound over time.

I still did all the things one would do at that age. I worked a normal job, saw friends multiple times a week, bought clothes and went out from time to time. I’d had a rebellious phase in my teens, so I’d got over the feeling that in order to live life to the fullest, I had to be out into the early hours of the morning. So I was quite grounded and saved as much as I could.

The uncomfortable groundwork

This period of putting my head down was amplified when I started posting content alongside my job, which really just started as a hobby. I never expected to make a penny from it, but that added a layer of graft to this time.

I was saving and investing aggressively and utilising most of my free time to make more money. Like anything, at the start it was small. I was getting £200 for a brand deal. But over time, it grew.

I was at a point of juggling a full-time job, content, the occasional modelling job, trying to maintain a social life, relationship, etc, and saving a lot. I just reflect on it as being a bit of an uncomfortable time. I knew I was working hard so I could enjoy life later.

By later, I don’t mean at 60. I just knew I was setting the groundwork to move out and have more financial freedom. When I was still living at home, I had no idea I would leave my 9-5, but it’s like I was unknowingly also setting myself up to do that.

That’s the part I wish I could tell my 18-year-old followers, or anyone who can’t be convinced to save or have a side hustle. It may feel like it’s not going anywhere at the start, but it’s the principle. The habits you build now set the framework for how you live in your 20s and 30s.

I still follow the same Frugal Chic philosophy I did when I was on £30k a year. I pay myself first, I diversify my income, I splurge on what I truly value and I cut down unnecessary spending, even if I don’t have to now. Because money doesn’t change people, it only amplifies who they already are. You’re still making a vote for who you are now.

Seeing saving as a promise to myself

So what switched? How did I go from seeing saving as boring to something enjoyable? It’s almost incomprehensible why someone would want to do that.

Firstly, I treated it as a promise to myself. Kind of like how people don’t actually need certain results from the gym, they just want to be consistent, to be healthy and to show up for themselves. Saving was a way to do that.

I found that because I was doing it unconsciously, for example, setting up a direct debit to my savings, it felt even easier to keep this promise.

When you keep promises to yourself, it builds confidence. You’re saying to yourself, I mean what I say. That’s a powerful feeling.

Saving as empowerment

Secondly, there is a serious gap in wealth between men and women. Of course, times are changing, and I’m actually now out-earning men my age, but it doesn’t change the overall system.

The UK gender wealth gap stands at around 21%, with men holding an average total wealth of £378,079 compared with £300,017 for women. That is a difference of around £78,000. The gap is even more severe when you look at pensions: the Women’s Budget Group reports a gender pension gap of 43%, with men holding nearly £67,000 more in pension wealth than women.

The UK also has one of the largest gender pension gaps in the OECD, with OECD data showing women receive monthly pensions more than 35% lower than men’s in the UK.

So saving and investing my money was a way of empowering myself. I always talk about an FU fund: a pot of money you have in case you want to walk away. That’s the most important thing, even if you don’t think you need it.

Because for women, money is not just numbers on a spreadsheet. It’s the ability to leave a bad job, a bad relationship, a bad living situation, or a version of your life that no longer fits.

Getting addicted to the number increasing

Thirdly, I got addicted to seeing the number increase. I almost gamified it.

I remember going to a friend at the time and saying, “Look, I’ve been keeping track of my dividends from investing.” I showed her my Notes app: “£0.56 from Coca-Cola.”

“Ohh, that’s nice,” she said, with a forced smile, nodding encouragingly as if I were a toddler showing a drawing.

The point is, I was into it. It was a hobby. No one’s judgement could convince me it was pointless, and I enjoyed it. Now I have over £100k invested, proving there are worse addictions to have and starting small is completely valid.

Replacing shopping with other interests

Fourthly, I managed to start saving more because I replaced shopping with other interests.

I like to say I sadly substituted my “swag” for this life now. I don’t dress nearly as experimentally or cool as I used to, but I actually am happier now.

Before, I was constantly wondering whether I was wearing the right thing, what the cool “in the know” brands were, and trying to stay up to date with trends.

Now my wardrobe is, on the surface, boring. But it works for me. The attention has moved elsewhere to films, the gym, creating content, travelling, that I just don’t care as much anymore.

Buying assets aka buying freedom

I wasn’t just saving, I was buying assets aka buying my freedom.

Once I started to view buying ETFs as buying my freedom, I felt so much more inclined to keep going. It meant I was bringing my retirement age down even further.

This was when I was at my 9-5 and desperate to escape. Obviously, I enjoy work, clearly, and therefore it’s not about escaping work entirely, but increasing optionality.

The takeaway

Those are a few mindset shifts I made in order to grasp the art of saving.

That being said, I wasn’t just saving. I was investing. I was building simultaneously. This isn’t me saying, coupon your way to happiness. It’s saying that saving gives you options, and options, particularly as a woman, are power.

And maybe this is where I return to Die with Zero. I don’t think the goal is to die with the biggest investment portfolio and no memories. That sounds bleak. But I also don’t think the goal is to spend everything in the name of “living life” while quietly removing your own choices.

To me, the point is to use money while you’re alive. But that includes using it to buy experiences, yes, and also using it to buy peace, leverage, confidence and the ability to walk away.

If you’ve always struggled to see what the point is, let this be proof that at the start it can feel small. But saving is a promise to yourself, and over time, that promise compounds into confidence and optionality.

That’s all this week,

Mia xx

I’d scroll the ASOS new in page as a form of entertainment.

I’d have every fast fashion retailer on my phone in a folder and be subscribed to every email newsletter.

This resulted in the clothes I wore wearing me, instead of me wearing the clothes.

I feel this a lot now, with the ‘how to dress like an THAT girl’ tutorials. Somehow it feels like we are wearing a costume.

The worst part is, I don’t own any of those clothes now. They were either sold or donated.

Sure, I am grateful for that experimental phase, everyone needs one. But to me there are so many lessons which in hindsight seem obvious.

In this issue:

Why natural fibres used to be the standard, not the luxury

How care labels reveal whether you’re paying for quality or marketing

Why decluttering is one of the most underrated financial habits

The danger of saving your best things for an imaginary future

How to build a wardrobe based on your real life, not your fantasy self

Care label > brand label

A lot of people are going to roll their eyes at this.

So let me be clear: I am not demonising polyester, and I am not demonising anyone who buys synthetic clothing out of necessity.

I am also not telling you to go out and buy a £500 cashmere jumper.

But I do think we need to talk about how disconnected we have become from what our clothes are actually made of.

Because for most of human history, clothing was made from natural fibres.

Cotton.

Wool.

Linen.

Silk.

Leather.

That was the standard.

Then synthetic fibres came along.

Nylon was introduced in the late 1930s and became famous through stockings. Polyester followed in the 1940s and became mainstream in the decades after because it was cheaper, durable, wrinkle-resistant and easier to mass produce.

And to be fair, this was revolutionary.

Synthetic fibres made clothing more affordable. They made certain garments more practical. They democratised access to fashion.

But somewhere along the way, we stopped seeing synthetics as the alternative and started treating them as the default.

Now you can walk into a shop, pick up a jumper, see that it costs £80, check the label and realise it is mostly polyester or acrylic.

And this is exactly why care labels matter.

The Frugal Chic rule: never let the brand tell you something is quality. Let the label prove it.

Decluttering is a financial audit

Decluttering is arguably an underrated financial hack.

You are forced to confront previous purchases and reflect on them, quite literally left at the end thinking, “This all used to be money.”

This doesn’t mean decluttering just to fill the space again, or getting rid of things you genuinely value.

There is a plethora of research to suggest that minimalism can have a positive impact on wellbeing in the home, and this likely affects other areas of life too.1

In a similar vein, clutter can often have negative effects.2

While there’s no evidence to suggest a direct correlation between decluttering and future purchases, in my own life, I’ve noticed it has made me want to shop less because I find pieces I’d forgotten about.

Quite often, we have that craving for something new because we aren’t showing enough gratitude for what we already have.

Wear your sunday best

We often have this idea that our best, smartest clothes are for Sundays, because traditionally, “Sunday best” was a phrase used to describe your church outfit.

Obviously, society has largely evolved, and I by no means mean to make this a religious comment. I mean it more symbolically.

We often leave our nice things for a rainy day. We don’t want to burn the Diptyque candle, use the nice mug, or wear that cashmere jumper.

My advice? Life is too short not to use the things you have.

This could be a scarcity mindset, and it could result in you often wearing outfits you don’t love because, in an ideal world, you’d wear the crisp white shirt you’ve been saving for “best.”

Use cost per wear, not just cost

A cheap item is not always good value, and an expensive item is not automatically an investment.

This is where cost per wear matters.

A £20 top worn once has cost you £20 per wear.

A £120 coat worn 100 times has cost you £1.20 per wear.

Obviously, this does not mean you need to justify every expensive purchase with girl maths.

But it does mean price alone tells you very little.

Value comes from use.

The clothes that pay dividends in your wardrobe are usually the ones you reach for repeatedly. The jeans that always work. The jumper that goes with everything. The coat you wear every winter. The boots that survive actual weather.

These are the assets in your wardrobe.

The liabilities are the pieces that take up space, require constant styling, only work for one hypothetical occasion, or make you feel slightly uncomfortable every time you put them on.

Build for your real life, not your fantasy self

A wardrobe you actually wear has to be built around your actual life.

Your commute. Your climate. Your job. Your laundry habits. Your budget. Your body. Your willingness to steam, dry clean, hand wash or maintain things properly.

I’ve said this a few times and people get up in air, ‘I wfh but I like to dress up and wear tailored trousers’. But that’s literally the point. It’s for your lifestyle and preferences. That doesn’t mean you are resigned to joggers and an oversized t-shirt. It might mean you wear business casual that takes you through to an evening event.

This could even involve having to plan for changes in your body during and after pregnancy, or fluctating weight. That’s why this capsule wardrobe idea falls flat for most people. Rather than trying to fit all your clothing into 10 items, instead, work out what is genuinely going to be useful to you.

The easiest way I’ve found to do this is to take more mirror selfies. You’re not trying to be an influencer and it’s not vanity. You’re collecting evidence of what you reached for.

That way your future purchases are based on data, not impulse.

In summation:

That’s all this week,

Mia xx

To my inner circle,

For those of you who are building a business in this new digital landscape, I wanted to share a few recent learnings from inside the creator economy.

After growing to over 800k across my platforms and making £86k profit this month, I’ve been reflecting a lot on what is actually moving the needle.

This paid tier is where we break the fourth wall and go deeper into the strategy behind it all.

Because yes, Frugal Chic is about budgeting and investing.

But equally, a huge part of what is helping me move towards financial freedom is not just the everyday personal finance habits. It is building a business, creating leverage, and understanding how attention works in this new economy.

In this issue:

• Why the creator economy is changing what credibility, access and influence look like

• The difference between having a niche and becoming a one-dimensional resource

• Why memory recall matters more than chasing random viral moments

• How storytelling, personal anecdotes and perspective turn content into a brand

• Why the creators who last are the ones who genuinely enjoy the process

Why the creator economy is changing

The truth is, the creator economy is reshaping the media landscape and overall culture faster than we are realising.

I’ve noticed this a lot recently.

Obsession is the best film I’ve seen all year so far. It was made by a YouTuber in 20 days.

I got to go to Downing St for a creator briefing and tour. This received some negativity, because on social media it’s impossible to please anyone. Setting aside your feelings on this, my point is: I got to go. When in my life would I have ever gone? We quite literally got a tour of the Cabinet.

I am getting invited on panels to speak with industry experts with over 20+ years of experience. I objectively don’t deserve to be there in a traditional sense, but I am.

So we’re stuck in this weird place where everyone is desperate to become a content creator, but for me, it’s so clear from the outside, as someone who’s made it, who has what it takes and who doesn’t.

I get asked A LOT what my advice would be for beginner content creators who want to build a content brand like Frugal Chic®. How I grew to 800k followers collectively and became a household name in the influencer space in less than two years.

Here are the recent developments in my approach and mindset.

Firstly, have a niche, but don’t just become a resource.

So there’s this tension that many small creators swing between. Perhaps they have no niche, and that’s why they aren’t memorable. Or they niched down too much, and now people see them as a resource, but they don’t really care about them.

Let’s address the first problem: having no niche. There are a lot of people saying, “You are the niche,” which is true, but you have to have the most charisma I’ve ever seen. There are very few people who, for example, in their early 20s, have had enough life experience and wisdom to be able to pull from lots of different areas and excel at talking about ‘anything’.

Being able to talk about many topics is something I believe comes later, after you have established a core audience that cares. I can make a video about food or a recipe, but I will tie it back to saving money. My strength was being known for finance. I want people to associate finance on TikTok with me. That kind of memory recall only happens when you’re known for something specific.

Read more

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the language we use around money.

Not the technical stuff. Not ISAs, pensions, index funds or tax wrappers. I mean the casual sentences we say without thinking. The little throwaway comments that reveal how much autonomy we believe we have.

Because the way you speak about money does not just describe your reality. It often reinforces it.

The more financially literate I’ve become, the more I’ve realised there are certain things I just do not say to myself anymore.

In this issue:

• Why saying “I’m broke” can become an identity

• The difference between financial realism and learned helplessness

• Why “I can’t afford it” is not always the full sentence

• Why doing well young should not make you feel guilty

• Why “must be nice” is quietly keeping people stuck

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#1 “I’m broke”

Firstly, I’m not speaking to people who are genuinely financially struggling. There is a very real difference between being underpaid, unsupported, in debt, dealing with rising costs, or living paycheque to paycheque, and casually saying “I’m broke” because you spent your money impulsively.

This is surprisingly common among middle and upper-middle-class people.

The trust fund kid who spends their allowance in a week. The woman with a decent salary who gets into debt because fast fashion becomes a crutch. The person who earns well but never knows where their money went.

I am not here to judge, I caught myself saying this a few times when I was younger to fit in. It’s like being bad with money used to be cool, especially when you’re in your late teens and nonchalance is seen as social capital.

When you repeatedly tell yourself “I’m broke”, you are not just describing a financial state. You are creating an identity.

And when broke becomes your identity, your habits start to match it.

You stop looking for solutions. You stop tracking your expenses. You stop taking ownership. You start believing money is something that happens to you, rather than something you can learn to manage. As I spoke about recently, being low agency is thinking you don’t have the power to change your circumstances.

A more honest sentence might be:

“I am not where I want to be currently, but I am working towards my goals.”

It’s still realistic, but it puts the responsibility back in your court. You can acknowledge that things might be tight, you might not earn enough, or maybe you didn’t spend in line with your values. That doesn’t define you forever

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#2 “I can’t afford to”

Sometimes, this is a responsible sentence. If something is genuinely outside your means, saying “I can’t afford to” is financial literacy. I thought repeating this meant I was making financial boundaries and being mature.

But sometimes, it becomes a default setting.

“I can’t afford to invest.”

“I can’t afford to start a business.”

“I can’t afford to move.”

“I can’t afford to take time off.”

“I can’t afford to build the life I want.”

And you see this a lot at the moment in the discourse around friendships: the idea that we now can’t afford to “hang out.”

This is true, the cinema costs at least £20, coffee is sometimes £5, and there is a lack of third spaces. We have a cost of living.

But what I think a lot of people are missing is that we are glued to our phones. We often aren’t just short of cash, we are short of attention, energy, and creativity because it is constantly being siphoned off by whatever seven-second clip keeps us engaged.

We don’t stop to think that maybe friendship can be more casual. It can be going for a food shop with someone, having a cup of tea at home, doing a low-cost activity, or even just sending them a playlist rather than a meme.

This extends beyond friendship, to just how we see life in general and what we think we are capable of.

At some point, “I can’t afford it” can become a full stop when it should be a question.

The better reframe is:

“How could I afford this?”

That does not mean buying everything you want. It means moving from victim mode into thinking strategically.

Maybe the answer is saving for six months. Maybe it is earning more. Maybe it is cutting something else. Maybe it is realising you do not actually want the thing enough to make the trade-off.

To me, that’s financial maturity.

#3 “Doing X by 25 isn’t normal”

Whenever someone does something impressive young, people love to say it is “not normal”.

Buying a home by 25. Saving six figures. Starting a business. Investing early. Leaving a job. Building a platform. Becoming financially independent.

This is a healthy topic to bring up. So often social media can make us feel awful as it shows us a highlight reel of other people’s lives. Through ‘de-influencing’ we are making the internet a more relatable space.

However, where I draw the line is where “not normal” is used as a way to flatten ambition or shame perhaps young women for using their unfair advantage to get ahead, as they rightfully should.

You do not need to make your goals smaller just because they make other people uncomfortable. You also do not need to pretend privilege, timing, luck and support do not play a role.

Both can be true.

You can acknowledge your advantages and still take your own ambition seriously.

I won’t be participating in this trend or this way of speaking because I don’t want to be normal. I want above-average results and therefore my input has to be above average.

Focusing too much on ‘normal’ keeps you normal.

All of us aspire to change our lives, ‘get rich’, get PR, but when someone does, they immediately get demonised. Let’s be clear, anyone, if they could trade places, would probably act accordingly.

I saw a creator make a point recently that really stuck with me. She said, “Girls support girls until girls see a girl who’s living their dream life.”

And honestly, I think that sums up so much of the discourse around ambition, especially online.

We say we want women to win. We say we support women building wealth, marrying well, becoming successful, being visible, looking good, being chosen, being paid, being free. But the second a woman actually has the thing other people secretly want, suddenly the tone changes.

She’s “not that special.”

“She had it easy.”

“She’s only with him for the money.”

“She doesn’t deserve it.”

“I don’t get the hype.”

But underneath a lot of that criticism is projection.

I also saw this idea echoed here. Sometimes it is easier to dismiss someone else’s success than admit that you want something similar for yourself. It is easier to call someone privileged, lucky, undeserving or cringe than sit with the discomfort of your own ambition.

And I think this is especially true in the UK, where wanting more can feel socially risky. You are allowed to be quietly successful, but not too visibly ambitious. You are allowed to do well, but only if you constantly apologise for it. You are allowed to want a better life, but only if you frame it in the most self-deprecating way possible.

Wanting more money, more freedom, more beauty, more ease, more opportunity, more choice, more life is not embarrassing. What is embarrassing is pretending you don’t want those things and then hating women who were brave enough to admit that they did.

#4 “Must be nice”

This phrase feels harmless and light-hearted, but it often carries a hidden resentment.

And sometimes, yes, people are privileged. Some people do have help. Some people do get a head start.

But “must be nice” can become a way of dismissing other people’s effort so you do not have to examine your own options.

A more powerful response is:

“What can I learn from this?”

Because envy can either make you bitter or it can give you information about your desires.

Maybe they negotiated. Maybe they invested early. Maybe they took a risk. Maybe they had family support. Maybe they built a skill. Maybe they got lucky.

But one thing I would never do is wish for someone else’s situation, because you never actually know what goes on behind the scenes.

That influencer who hit 500k and bought a house? They got cheated on by their partner of six years.

That girl who bought a house? Her dad doesn’t spend time with her, he just pays her off.

That CEO you’re so envious of? They spent the last week eating takeaways and forgetting to text their friends.

Maybe they don’t even have any ‘skeletons in the closet’ or struggles but that isn’t the point. Pocket watching other people’s success and trying to cancel them online only delays your own success because it’s too much time and energy directed at someone else when it could be directed at you.

So, financial literacy is not just knowing what an ISA is.

It is learning how to speak to yourself like someone with agency.

Life doesn’t happen to you, you happen to it.

This isn’t about pretending everything is fine. It is not ignoring structural issues or acting like everyone has the same starting point.

But expanders, those who truly build something in life, know the levers they can pull.

And the language you use often determines whether you look for them.

That’s all this week,

Mia xx

Why £1m?

Because it’s the number I’ve used to measure my “enough”.

Yes, after that, ambition will still exist. I don’t want to stop working. But what it will do is give me the financial freedom that so many of us dream of but rarely calculate.

In this issue:

• Why £1 million is my ‘Barista FIRE number’

• The uncomfortable truth about creator income and career longevity

• Why staying at my 9-5 eventually became the more expensive option

• How I’m scaling without selling my soul to every brand deal

• The lifestyle creep rule that will probably matter more than income

Why it doesn’t have to be a dream

It’s hard to talk about financial ambition in the UK without being labelled as privileged or out of touch.

And yes, I always acknowledge the privilege that has already helped me get to a £200k net worth by 25. Things like living at home for two years after uni, being able-bodied and conventionally attractive, and coming from a stable home.

That being said, I had a really “normal” childhood.

In the sense that I never owned branded clothing, a lot of the activities we did were free, treats and gifts really were for Christmas and it was only in my mid-teens that I felt a shift in financial security and abundance.

So I wasn’t poor, but growing up, money felt tight.

But now, saying I want to get to £1m feels complicated. I’m no longer in my entry-level fashion job on £30k a year. Now, as a business owner, I have uncapped earning potential, and that changes the conversation.

But I don’t think ambition only becomes acceptable when you’re the underdog. Sometimes the most honest thing you can do is admit you have a chance to ‘make it’ at something, and then actually go for it.

Why £1m is my end game

With that in mind, it all started with an obsession.

Ever since I went down this rabbit hole of personal finance and investing, I’ve had one number in my head: £1 million.

Because what does £1 million mean to most of us?

It means you’ve made it. You’re rich. You never have to worry about money again. You can finally relax.

And yes, before the personal finance police arrive, I know there will always be someone saying, “Well, actually, £1 million isn’t what it used to be,” or “What about inflation?” And fine, technically true. But let’s be honest, £1 million is still life-changing money.

Maybe it doesn’t buy you a yacht, a townhouse in Chelsea and a private chef, but it does buy you something far more valuable.

Options.

Why it matters to me

The reason £1 million matters to me is because I’ve done the maths.

Based on the 4% rule, which is the idea that you can withdraw around 4% of your investment portfolio each year without running out, £1 million could give you roughly £40,000 a year. You withdraw 4% and, in theory, your portfolio still grows due to average stock market historically returning around 10% per year before inflation, or roughly 6–7% per year after inflation, although this is an average and returns are never guaranteed.

It would mean covering most of my living expenses: rent, bills, groceries, just the essentials. Over time, it would also have less buying power due to inflation. Hence my actual FIRE number would be around £1.25m. But that’s actually okay with me seeing as it’s only supplementing a portion of my lifestyle.

This is approach is more aligned with Barista FIRE. Basically, having enough invested that you don’t need to rely on full-time work in the traditional sense, but you may still choose to work part-time, freelance, create, consult, or build things because you want to.

The FIRE withdrawals cover my needs, and any extras like travelling, a designer bag or

That is the dream for me.

Not never working again.

Not lounging on a sunbed doing nothing and slowly getting bored.

Just freedom.

The ability to work because I choose to, not because I have to.

Creator income is lucrative, but it is not guaranteed

Content creation is seen as this extremely lucrative field, and in many ways, it can be.

I’m very aware that I am lucky. I’m probably in the top percentage of creators when it comes to niche, income and commercial opportunity. Personal finance is a high-value niche, and I have built a brand that sits at the intersection of money, investing, fashion, ambition and lifestyle.

But I’m also not delusional.

The average creator career is not guaranteed to last forever. Trends change. Platforms change. Audiences change.

A 2025 Billion Dollar Boy study of 1,000 creators in the US and UK found that 52% of creators had experienced burnout because of their career, and 37% had actively considered leaving the profession. So it’s safe to say content creation is not always the dream job people imagine, especially when it comes to wellbeing.

And even though I want longevity, I also have to be honest with myself. I don’t know if I can see myself at 50 still filming day-in-the-life videos and telling strangers exactly what is in my investment portfolio (not that there is anything wrong with being an older creator - because I love to see that!!).

Maybe I will. Maybe Frugal Chic® evolves into books, products, media, education, events, or something I can’t even imagine yet.

But I want the option to change.

That is what this is really about.

Having a personal brand or being a creator is carefully caring the emotional labour of performing a commercially packaged version of oneself.

That’s just not something I want forever.

So i’m not retiring because I hate work. Retiring from the need to constantly perform for income.

Scale is the reason this is even possible

The first part of my £1m blueprint is scale.

And this is where I have to be honest: this goal would not have been possible if I had stayed in my 9-5.

There is a lot of content online saying you don’t need to quit your job to build something on the side, and I completely agree with that for most people. In fact, the whole reason I had a side hustle alongside my 9-5 was because I believed having multiple sources of income was smart.

You haven’t failed at life because you are a full-time employee. Especially if the job is not destroying your mental health. You have sick pay, annual leave and maternity leave. In many ways, you are winning.

But there is such a thing as opportunity cost.

For me, the only reason I left was because I started turning down financial opportunities because of my job. Sneaking off to the toilets to take a mandatory briefing call or saying no to an event I knew could lead to a four-figure deal. At a certain point, staying became the thing that was costing me money.

That doesn’t mean everyone should quit their job.

But in my situation, going all in meant I could finally scale the thing that had the highest earning potential.

In the last six months, my life has become unrecognisable. I have had months where I could make my old yearly salary in a month, which still feels insane to say out loud.

So now, my focus isn’t necessarily on how I can earn more. It’s trying to build something that does not depend entirely on me doing everything.

That means outsourcing. Recently, I hired support in the business, and that was a big mental shift. For a long time, I felt deeply uncomfortable with the idea of paying someone to do things I technically could do myself. Now my business has to generate over £6-7k a month just to pay for wages alone, whereas before, it was almost pure profit.

I realised, if someone else can do something 80% as well as me, and it frees me up to do the thing only I can do, which is as Naval would say ‘earn with my mind’.

Saying no to money is part of scaling

This sounds backwards, but another part of getting to £1 million is saying no to more money.

Recently, I made a video saying I had turned down over £89,000 in brand deals, and it was true.

On paper, if I’m trying to reach £1 million as quickly as possible, surely I should say yes to every opportunity?

But this is where short-term cash and long-term brand equity are not the same thing.

Some brand deals are not worth the cheque because they dilute the trust I’ve built. Some would confuse the audience. Some would position me in a way that makes sense for the the money, but not credibility.

Scalability does not mean saying yes to everything.

It means saying yes to the right things, repeatedly, with faith in myself to keep bringing in those opportunities.

The boring rule: keep lifestyle exactly the same

The next part of my plan is probably the least glamorous, but it matters the most.

I am keeping my lifestyle basically the same.

Lifestyle creep is when your spending quietly rises alongside your income. You get the promotion, then the nicer flat comes in. The upgraded wardrobe. The extra subscriptions. The Ubers. The dinners. The “I deserve this” purchases.

And honestly, sometimes you do deserve it.

But lifestyle creep is dangerous because it does not feel dramatic while it is happening. That is why it creeps.

I’m proud that, for the most part, my spending has stayed fairly similar to when I was earning around £30k a year. I’ll spend on trips, experiences and things I genuinely value, but my monthly lifestyle usually sits around £2,000 to £2,500.

That is extremely intentional.

And yes, part of it is because self-employment is uncertain. Creator income can fluctuate. You can have an incredible month, then a quiet one.

But the bigger reason is freedom.

If I keep my lifestyle relatively low, I don’t need to earn a ridiculous amount every month just to maintain it. I can say no to unaligned work. I can take creative risks. I can invest aggressively - which in turn brings that £1m closer.

Lower expenses give me more optionality.

And optionality is the whole point.

The next step: building beyond myself

The next obvious step for me is diversifying revenue streams.

A product. A brand. An asset that lives beyond me posting every day.

I’ve been thinking a lot about creator-led brands. People like Maddie Borge with Pastael, Miles with Signet, and creators who have managed to turn audience trust into something tangible.

For me, the next step has to make sense within Frugal Chic®.

It cannot just be merch. It cannot just be a random planner.

It has to be something my audience genuinely wants, something that fits into the way they live, spend, save, organise, dress, think or build wealth. Day-to-day I find myself working out the things I use the most and how I would do them differently.

The real reason I want £1 million

£1 million is not about looking rich.

It is not even really about the money itself.

It is about being able to wake up and know that my life is not entirely dependent on one platform, one brand, one algorithm, one industry, one income stream, or one version of myself.

That is what financial freedom means to me.

The ability to say no.

So this is the beginning of my Road to £1m.

I plan to get there by scaling what works, investing aggressively, being Frugal Chic®, and remembering that the whole point of wealth is not to look rich.

It is to actually be rich.

That’s all this week,

Mia xx

This weeks YouTube video:

Not because I didn’t care about it, but because I wasn’t totally clear on what should live here versus what should stay on the main newsletter. The more I’ve thought about it, the clearer it’s become. My main newsletter is for personal finance, investing, money mindset and Frugal Chic® as a lifestyle philosophy.

This space is different.

This is where I want to talk about business, content creation, marketing strategy, behind-the-scenes decisions, mistakes I’ve made, what I’m investing in, and the things I don’t always want to share publicly. Basically, the stuff that feels too specific, too revealing, or too “inside the business” for the main audience. As the name suggests, it’s Frugal Chic® HQ.

In this issue:

• Why I finally hired help after doing everything myself for too long

• The creator subscriptions I actually pay for

• How auto-DMs helped drive serious digital product sales

• Why I’m spending money on editing before the platforms fully pay me back

• The difference between being frugal personally and being underinvested professionally

Read more

Money can feel exactly the same. You download an investing app for the first time and suddenly it’s all ETFs, ISAs, SIPPs, asset allocation. No wonder so many people close the app and decide to “look into it properly later.” Whenever I’ve spoken with friends about investing, they say ‘I need to just allocate a whole day to set everything up’. It’s as if it’s as dry to them as helping their nan fix the tv channels or like it’s this whole operation. I tell them “it’s really not as complicated as you think, it could take 2 minutes”. They read that as ‘it’s easy for me, so it should be the same for you.’

A lot of us are operating like the person who buys the lululemon set and the weights, but doesn’t know where to start. We might have the cash to save and invest, but because we don’t understand the purpose, or how to actually go about it. It’s much easier to ignore it all together. Pensions are for when we’re older right?

In this issue

• Why financial confidence feels like gym confidence: awkward before it becomes habitual

• The money version of counting macros, and why tracking every penny is not the only way

• Why FIRE can be the marathon of personal finance, inspiring but not compulsory

• How to stop comparing your “day one” finances to someone else’s six-pack portfolio

• The simple financial workout plan most people actually need

Becoming financially fit does not mean becoming obsessive or optimising everything for ‘tax-efficiency’. It means building enough knowledge and confidence that money stops feeling evil, confusing, or something that quietly controls every decision.

The goal is not to become the financial equivalent of a bodybuilder: impressive from the outside, optimised for competition, disciplined to the point of obsession, but with the strength of a soggy noddle.

The goal is to become the person who has a healthy, sustainable relationship with exercise in whatever form actually suits them. A regular gym session, martial arts, swimming, long walks, Pilates, whatever. The point is not to perform fitness. The point is to feel capable in your own body.

Financial fitness is the same, it’s deeply personal. For one person, it is paying off debt. For another, it is building a 6 month emergency fund. For someone else, it is investing every month, changing careers, increasing their income, or finally understanding what their pension is doing.

What is the risk of avoidance

Without focusing too heavily on the negative, because like fitness, financial progress is not equally available to everyone. Some people are dealing with low income, illness, caring responsibilities, or simply trying to get through the month.

Not enaging at all doesn’t suddenly make the problems disappear.

There is a reason why Benjamin Franklin once said, “money makes money.” Once you have savings, investments, assets, or even just breathing room, your money can start working for you. Like a farm, you can ‘grow more money’. But when you avoid it completely, the inverse happens (ok, not literally). Bills go up. Cash sits in a current account losing spending power to inflation. Your pension may be invested in a default fund you’ve never checked.

It’s like sitting stationary for years and assuming your body will somehow stay strong. You build muscle, mobility, and bone density now so that later in life, your body has more resilience. You don’t do it because every workout is life changing. You do it because tiny repeated actions compound.

Money works the same way.

Saving, investing, paying attention, and learning the basics are not just “nice to have” habits. They are how you build financial muscle.

Everyone has gym anxiety at first

Financial literacy has its own version of gym anxiety. You don’t want to ask a “stupid” question, so you avoid the whole thing. Paying off debt, starting to save and invest can feel like awkwardly sidestepping towards the weights and watching the pros glare at you.

I say this as someone who literally labels themselves as ‘not a sporty person’. When asked what exercise I do, I say, ‘Does walking count?’

But that’s why I understand this frustration about personal finance, because I also felt the same way. Growing up with zero financial literacy had me asking what an ISA was, but clumsily pronouncing it ‘I-S-A’ instead of ‘ICE-Ah’.

But nobody starts by understanding everything. You start accepting a new identity.

Seeing yourself as a saver, investor, debt free, even if it hasn’t happened yet. It sounds like the kind of ‘woo-woo’ advice you’d hear on an inspirational quotes Instagram page, but I can vouch for this method.

I felt like an investor when I had £25 in my ISA. I felt like a saver when I put 50% of my income away, and I earned £12 an hour. The starting point never feels impressive, but it is.

According to HMRC, around 7.5% of UK adults paid into a Stocks & Shares ISA in 2023/24, and 31% of UK adults have either no cash savings or less than £1,000 in emergency savings (FCA). It’s safe to say that even if you did open an ISA and put in £25, you’d be in the minority of people just willing to give it a go.

Not everyone needs to count macros

Some people love tracking every gram of protein. Some people love line by line budgeting. If that works for you, great. But it is not the only route to being financially fit.

For most people, the better starting point is knowing your big numbers: income, fixed costs, debt, savings rate, and what you invest each month. That’s your financial body scan.

Two options here.

A budgeting spreadsheet can help visualise your overall spending. It may seem excessive to some.

A simpler version is a budgeting app that automatically pulls data from different accounts to give you as less manual approach.

The key is, you don’t need to be tracking every iced latte to build wealth. You do need to be somewhat aware of how much your lifestyle costs month to month.

FIRE is the marathon, not the minimum standard.

The FIRE community can be incredibly inspiring. It shows what happens when people treat saving and investing like a serious sport. But not everyone wants to run the financial equivalent of an ultramarathon.

I’ve always seen the value in knowing your FIRE number in the same way a fitness coach might encourage you to know your weight, your strength level, or what you’re training towards. It gives you direction. It makes the goal measurable. But it is not supposed to become a punishment, and it is definitely not supposed to make you hate the process.

That’s what I loved about the FIRE movement when I first discovered it. It made financial freedom feel tangible. Not some vague “one day I’ll be rich” fantasy, but a number, a plan, a set of habits. It taught me the power of keeping promises to myself. Every time I saved, invested, or chose not to spend impulsively, I wasn’t depriving myself. I was building self-trust.

But there’s no doubt about it: reaching FIRE on an average 9–5 salary, even with a side hustle, requires sacrifice. The danger is pretending everyone should want the most extreme version. For most people, the goal does not need to be retiring early, it needs to be gaining stability and eventually growing their money.

For some, that’s a 6 month emergency fund. For others, it’s maxing out an ISA.

You don’t have to run the ultramarathon of finance to feel fit.

The “ripped” people are not the benchmark

In fitness, the most visible people are often the most extreme. The same is true with money.

This is amplified with social media. The people posting huge portfolios (guilty), aggressive savings rates, and “I saved 80% of my income” are impressive, but they are not always realistic.

Your benchmark is not someone else’s net worth. It is your own trajectory. Your goals, your circumstances, your privilege or lack of.

Another thing is trade-offs. That person flexing online may have worked 3 jobs for a year, neglected friendships or not had the most fruitful social life. Equally the person with the high consulting salary will have faced rejection left right and centre and perhaps is only in that industry to fulfil what their parents want. You can’t want someone’s output without needing all the conditions that created it.

Financial muscle is less about the end product and more about the small habits you build everyday and the deeply personal goals you set for you and only you.

The everyday financial workout

If you want a simple routine, start here.

1. Automate a small amount into savings or investments.

2. Review your spending once a week.

3. Log into your workplace pension.

4. Build a small emergency fund.

Open an ISA. You don’t necessarily have to invest straight away, but even opening the account can remove a lot of the fear. Sometimes confidence comes from making the thing feel less mysterious.

For example, this is where an investing platform like XTB can be a useful starting point. You can open a Stocks and Shares ISA, explore the app, understand what funds and ETFs actually look like, and get familiar with the process before deciding whether investing is right for you.

Open an ISA with XTB

AD | Disclaimer: Your capital is at risk when investing. The value of investments and the income from them can fall as well as rise and you might lose the original amount invested. Fluctuations in such value and income can result from factors such as market movements and variations in exchange rates. Past performance is not a reliable indicator of future results.

And you may be thinking, that’s it? It sounds too boring or simple. That’s the point.

A lot of people get sucked into hacks or get-rich-quick-schemes thinking there is some magic overnight treatment they can apply. In reality, building wealth is far slower, like drinking bone broth everyday instead of taking a collagen pouch once.

Because just like fitness, money pays dividends when you stop waiting to feel ready and start making it part of your normal life.

That’s all this week,

Mia x

And this is coming from someone who on the surface seems successful. Making multiple-figure months, can technically do what I want when I want without asking a boss for a day of annual leave, and I’m able to talk about what I want for a living.

It’s the dream on paper, but what isn’t spoken about enough is that, being predominantly a short-form creator, it’s very easy to get into ruts. Trying to please the algorithm, falling into comfortable patterns of creating and not experimenting. This ‘flop era’ I experience monthly isn’t just limited to content creation. In all aspects of life, it’s easy for things to feel a bit stale, lifeless.

Here is how I get my spark back time and time again.

In this issue:

• Why creative ruts are predictable

• The trap of “performing productivity”

• The one shift that resets your thinking fast

• How to rebuild taste (not just output)

• A simple 5 part system to get your spark back

5 things I do every time I feel stuck

I got back from Thailand yesterday and thought I’d be motivated to work again.
Instead, I spent the day making content I didn’t even like.

Read more

Always on their phones, taking important calls, ducking into meetings, hastily running to the next event.

I had this idea of success. It meant busyness. A day planned back-to-back with social engagements and things I thought would move the needle.

Yes, everything I’ve done and the work I’ve put in has paid off, but it doesn’t mean that strategy is supposed to last forever.

I’m a big believer in ‘seasons’… but no one tells you when it’s time to leave one behind.

In this issue:

• Why I used to equate success with busyness

• What changed after my first proper break as a full-time creator

• The concept of time affluence (and why it matters more than income)

• The moment money stops being the bottleneck… and time takes over

• A different way to think about wealth in your 20s

I’m writing this on a sunbed in Bangkok. It’s 7pm, it’s gentle temperature, and the whole skyline is in front of me. I’ve spent the last two weeks on my first proper holiday since becoming self-employed. For once, I actually allowed myself to switch off.

Yes, I still vlogged most days and took pictures, but I wasn’t scrolling, actively posting, or replying to DMs.

It sounds cliché to say, but I’ve come back as a different person.

I now feel so much stronger in the idea that I want to do less, deliberately. My past self would have seen that as lazy, or that I had “fallen off”. Now I see it as developing sharper boundaries with how I choose to spend my time.

My message has always been about building wealth and independence, particularly as a woman in her 20s. But wealth isn’t just financial.

The new status symbol

I recently came across the concept of time affluence.

It’s the hidden reason we strive to make more money. Because money buys choice, convenience, and most importantly, time, which is our most finite resource.

This feels especially relevant now. According to the Office for National Statistics, around 1.30–1.33 million people in the UK held a second job in 2025, with early 2026 estimates at roughly 1.29 million. With the cost of living where it is, that’s not surprising. And while I’m a big advocate for increasing and diversifying income, I can’t ignore that for many people, this isn’t a choice, it’s what they have to do to get by.

What this results in is an increase in income, but work slowly creeping into time was really should be for rest. We think that just clocking off at 5 and watching Netflix all evening is enough, but studies consistently show there are many kinds of rest that we can’t ignore. With rest on the decline and distraction increasing, it’s safe to say that time is the new secret indicator of wealth.

Yes, money matters. When you’re starting your wealth journey, it feels like every penny matters. That’s where Frugal Chic is born.

But for me I never really understood phrases like ‘time is money’ until it started applying to me. A few things changed my circumstances:

• Going self-employed

• Diversifying my income streams

• Investing consistently

Now that I’ve reached a stage where I feel more financially abundant than I did on my £30K salary, this is what I realised.

When money no longer becomes a restraint, time becomes the bottleneck.

You start to notice things differently.

The high earners commuting into the city every day, getting home at 7pm, exhausted. They may not actually be better off than the graduate on a lower salary who clocks off at 5pm, goes for a walk, sees friends, and actually lives.

On a flight, the person in business class who buys the wifi and is busy typing away might make more money, but they may not feel as fulfilled as the person in economy flicking through an array of films they’ve been dying to watch.

Switching off and doing less is a privilege and a luxury that took me so long to finally realise I could afford.

This realisation essentially made me see that more money doesn’t automatically equal a better life.

Not if it costs you all your time.

So maybe the goal isn’t just to earn more.

Maybe it’s to earn enough…

…and then start protecting your time like it’s your most valuable asset.

5 action points

1. Define your “enough” number: how much you need to live comfortably. For me, this has always been £2–2.5k a month. I rarely spend more than that. Even in five-figure months, I know that once my basic needs are covered and I’ve treated myself, I don’t need anything more to be happy. It’s important you decide this. Yes, you can chase more money, and I’m all for that if you’re building an emergency fund or working towards FIRE. But if it comes at the cost of all your spare time, it’s not worth it. Defining your financial “enough” sets the tone for how much work you say yes to.

2. Audit where your time is leaking: time-block your week and see where your attention is being pulled into things that aren’t giving you a return. Shallow coffee chats, people-pleasing obligations, and “opportunities” that benefit the other person more than you. Pay attention to patterns. If something consistently drains you or distracts you from higher-value work, it needs to go or be reduced. Your time should be allocated with the same level of intention as your money.

3. Start buying back your time early: don’t wait until you feel “rich” to do this. If you can afford small conveniences that remove friction from your day, take them. This could be outsourcing work, using delivery services, or automating parts of your life. The goal isn’t to be lazy, it’s to free up your time for things that actually move your life forward or make you feel better. I started doing this with meal prep services during busy periods and it did relieve a lot of mental load.

4. Shift from income goals to lifestyle design: instead of only focusing on how much you earn, think about how you want your days to look. What time do you wake up, how much do you work, how often do you see people, how much space do you have to think? Then build your income streams around that vision. It’s very easy to build a high income that traps you into a schedule you don’t even enjoy. A well-designed life should feel calm.

5. Protect your time like you protect your money: you wouldn’t casually spend hundreds of pounds without thinking, so don’t casually give away hours of your day. Be more selective with what you agree to. Set boundaries around your availability, your work hours, and your energy. Not everything needs a yes, and not everything deserves immediate access to you. The more you respect your own time, the more other people will too.

So, the core ingredient for living a Frugal Chic® life is defining your “enough”. Once you do that, you stop trying to squeeze productivity out of every second of the day.

You start being more selective. More intentional. You realise not every opportunity is worth taking, not every pound needs to be chased, and not every hour needs to be optimised.

Because when “enough” is clear, you’re no longer operating from scarcity.

You stop building a life that looks impressive on paper, and start building one that actually feels good to live.

https://substack.com/@miamcgrath/p-192994538

That’s all this week.

Now at 25 I have a £300k net worth, I run my own business and i’m working towards financial freedom.

In that time lots of factors came into play:

• living at home for 2 years

• living below my means

• always having a side hustle

• posting online and striking gold with timing and my niche

• investing and returns from the stock market

But the factor I don’t talk about enough is exposure.

You can’t act on what you’ve never heard of.

Growing up, money wasn’t a taboo topic, but it wasn’t something discussed in detail either. Financial literacy isn’t really taught in schools, particularly as I went to a state school too. Investing, compound interest, mortgages, you’re sort of expected to know these things, yet there’s no obvious place to learn about them.

When I get asked on podcasts what got me into investing, I say it’s because I had male friends at university who spoke about it as if it were commonplace, the same way they spoke about sports or beer. In terms of saving, I had a friend in sixth form who told me she saved 50% of all her earnings. I took that as gospel and did the same, albeit lacking the experience to know that it doesn’t always work like that.

The point is, I have consumed hours upon hours of content about financial literacy, yet all these experiences came from people in real life, conversations, asking questions, not from a screen. They were the starting board which sparked my interest, it gave me the awareness.

Becoming financially literate doesn’t mean reading an economics textbook from front to back. It’s more about what feels normal to you, what gets spoken about openly, and what you learn to see as possible.

In this issue:

• Why financial literacy isn’t built from consumption alone

• The real advantage most people overlook: proximity to better conversations

• How your environment quietly sets your financial ceiling

• The difference in how wealthy people talk about money (and why it matters)

Why financial literacy isn’t built from consumption alone

We often think that financial literacy will just “come to us” once we’ve read enough money books or listened to enough podcasts. That somehow, by osmosis, we’ll absorb the information.

And to an extent, that’s true. I learnt most of what I know about ISAs, pensions, and investing from binge-watching YouTube videos and reading money books when I should have been entering data during my first remote internship during COVID.

But a lot of what I know didn’t come from consuming content.

It came from conversations.

A friend in sixth form once told me she saved 50% of every paycheck. In hindsight, that is not realistic for most adults in the real world, but for a teenager living at home and working in a gift shop, it was incredibly disciplined. More importantly, it made saving that much feel normal to me. So I carried that mindset into my first proper job.

At university, I had male friends who would casually show me their investment portfolios. One was buying individual stocks, the other was invested in ETFs. I remember feeling like I’d been let into some private club. Not excluded exactly, just aware that this was a conversation I had not grown up around. That exposure made me curious enough to start researching investing for myself.

Later, I found out a friend was earning £2,000 more than me despite having two years less experience. That conversation was uncomfortable, but useful. It made me realise I was underestimating my own value, and it directly pushed me to negotiate, which later led to a £10,000 pay rise.

I also remember an ex-boyfriend in sixth form telling me he was saving for a house deposit. I genuinely did not even know what that really meant at the time. But hearing someone my age speak about money in that way planted a seed. It made me think, maybe this is something I should care about too.

That is what I think people miss when they talk about financial literacy.

It’s those in-person moments that no video can really replace, it has a more personal meaning and I think forces us to take more action than just saving a video. I think how differently my life would feel if I never had the courage to ask those questions - even if they felt slightly uncomfortable at the time.

Now, as my life has changed quite dramatically over the past year, going from earning £30k in a junior role in fashion to becoming a full-time creator who can make 5-figure months, something I am surprised about is that the conversations I’m part of, and the rooms I’m in, have completely shifted again.

And it makes me wonder: if I had just been more curious, more proactive, could I have accessed these conversations sooner?

How your environment quietly sets your financial ceiling

Most of us are operating under an invisible ceiling. A quiet limit on what we think is possible for our lives. If no one around you is investing, you don’t think to ask about investing. If no one is earning beyond a certain level, that becomes your reference point. If no one is building anything of their own, full-time employment feels like the only option. If you don’t know where to look or you don’t have the exposure, it’s difficult to find these touchpoints.

Whether we want to admit or not, there is a difference in the way that rich people talk about money, even how men talk about money. They speak so openly about what they are doing with their investments. I love how Emma Grede articulated this here.

My personal feeling is we ought to proactively seek these conversations out, particularly if like me, financial literacy wasn’t discussed growing up. Recently we spoke about being low vs high agency and I feel that applies here, there is only so much we can blame school for not teaching us - at some point we need to be curious and seek these discussions ourselves.

How the rich talk about money

I remember a viral piece of content from a few years ago: “conversations my poor vs rich friends have”. It compared how the poor friends spoke about celebrity gossip and shopping and the rich friends spoke about business and money. I am personally not a fan of using that terminology so consider this to be a more grounded version of the same idea.

When I read Rich Dad Poor Dad, I finally understood the distinction it was trying to make. It was not really about one person being good and the other bad, or one deserving respect and the other not. It was about the way different people are taught to think about money. One mindset sees money as something that comes in and goes out, mainly to cover bills and fund consumption. The other sees money as something to direct, grow, and use strategically. For all its flaws, that was the part that stayed with me. It made me realise that wealth is not just about earning more, but about learning to ask better questions. How do I make this money last? How do I make it grow? How do I buy back my time? How do I build assets, not just fund a lifestyle?

It’s not about ditching your friends, becoming some kind of social climber or not being authentic to your true interests. I still have the same core set of friends I’ve always had. However, I do think more of us need to be going outside of our comfort zone in regards to the discussions we have about money.

What has changed for me is proximity. I can now find myself at a dinner with the founder of a multi-million-pound business, sitting next to the Chief of AI at a major tech company. And yes, a lot of that access has come through building a personal brand. But when I think about it properly, this shift started much earlier, and in much smaller ways.

At university, when my male friends were discussing stocks, I didn’t tell myself it was too advanced for me or sit there pretending I understood. I asked questions. I paid attention. I tried to take in as much as I could. It was the same whenever I came across someone in an entirely different world to mine, like a middle-aged man working in property. Rather than switching off and assuming we had nothing in common, I started seeing those moments differently. I use that as a chance to get a 1:1 with an expert in a field I knew nothing about.

Since adopting this forward approach to speaking about money, i’m now part of conversations where the talking point might be:

Things like:

• “How are your investments doing right now?”

• “Have you thought about hiring?”

• “What do you outsource? I’m thinking of getting a cleaner.”

• “How have you structured your holding company”

There is such a huge shift. Yes, part of that reflects where I am financially now. But that is not really the point. The point is that these are still just conversations. Conversations I probably could have been having sooner if I had been a bit more curious, a bit less intimidated, and a bit more willing to ask. Maybe it was never just about how much I knew about money. Maybe it was also about the confidence that comes from hearing these discussions regularly enough for them to feel normal.

A small part of why people feel like wealth is “gatekept” isn’t because people are hiding information. It’s because these topics don’t naturally enter your awareness unless you’re exposed to them.

So here is what I would focus on today if I wanted more exposure to these kinds of conversations:

We often think luck and opportunities live in isolation, but they come through people.

Financial literacy is not just built by consuming more information. It is built in the day-to-day, in the moments where you hear how someone else is thinking, saving, investing, negotiating, building. That is often the thing that expands your world because seeing it in practice is far more tangible.

Because sometimes the fastest way to change your financial life is not to consume more, but to get closer to the kinds of conversations that make a different life feel normal.

That’s it this week,

Mia

xx

This newsletter is kindly sponsored by XTB who are offering 6% on a Cash ISA currently for the first 90 days after opening.

Start building wealth today

AD | Disclaimer: Your capital is at risk when investing. The value of investments and the income from them can fall as well as rise and you might lose the original amount invested. Fluctuations in such value and income can result from factors such as market movements and variations in exchange rates. Past performance is not a reliable indicator of future results. 2% ISA rate boost for 90 days. New clients only. T&Cs apply.

Okay, not really, but I got invited to a “wellness retreat” which feels entirely off-brand for the woman who makes finance-related content. Bear with me though, because what I came out of it knowing was completely unexpected.

In this issue:

• Why wellness and finance are more linked than you’d think

• The NEST personal branding framework

• Breathwork and the 8x8 method

• The 1:1 coaching that genuinely changed me

• The ROI: what I’m actually changing

I spent a few days in Crete with a group of creators, founders, and marketers. The schedule was a mix of yoga, cold plunges, personal branding workshops, and 1:1 coaching. The aim: bring ambitious people together in an intimate environment to connect, share ideas, and collaborate. Full transparency, I was invited with no obligations to post anything - but I felt so inspired by it that I wanted to share.

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We tend to think of finance as the cold, soulless topic. Something entirely separate from the world of yoga mats and morning rituals. And equally, wellness, to me as the Frugal Chic®, has always felt slightly gimmicky. Vibration plates, LED masks, bone broth at 7am. I partake in some of it, but I’ve always thought the overall message has been diluted by consumerism, this creeping idea that you can buy your way to feeling okay.

But here’s what I couldn’t keep ignoring: our nervous system and our sense of self are more intrinsically linked to our financial behaviour than we like to admit. So much of the way we handle money has very little to do with information and a lot to do with identity, self-trust, emotional regulation, and the beliefs quietly running underneath everything. You can know how to budget, how to invest, and how to build wealth, but if your nervous system is permanently fried or your self-concept is shaky, that will show up in your financial life somewhere.

I’m fortunate to have financial abundance now. Increasing my income dramatically changed my life in very real ways. But money fixes money problems; it doesn’t fix everything else. What I realised at this retreat was that I’d been carrying a lot of what the workshops called “limiting beliefs,” and some of them were quietly running the show.

Equally, wellness has been largely commodified and turned into a $224 billion industry.1 But that doesn’t mean at Frugal Chic® we have to partake in the same way. Simply making more intentional choices about where you spend your time, energy and money is part of it.

In the last issue, we talked about unlearning unhelpful money stories, like “I’m bad with money.” This retreat pushed that thinking further: if you don’t understand yourself properly, nothing you build on top of it will feel aligned. It was like doing a money audit for my confidence and career direction. Here’s what I learned.

The emails you don’t skim

It was a random workday. I was in my light-work window, the part of my day I keep for emails and admin, typing away at a LinkedIn post when an email notification dropped. “The Growth Collective: Wellness Retreat.” I clicked, intrigued, then immediately forwarded it to my talent manager: “is this legit?”

Then I spotted Sedge Beswick in the deck they’d sent over. I’d just done a panel with her at the NXT LVL event. That was enough for me.

The retreat was organised by a startup called The Growth Collective, a members club connecting people in the founder space with senior mentorship and the right contacts, through events, retreats, and an online platform.

On paper, the agenda looked like workout after workout. And to be honest, I’m not the sportiest person. I go to the gym for mental clarity, not to get results. So arriving as someone only six months out of their 9-5, surrounded by founders and people with decades of experience, it would be fair to say I was braced for imposter syndrome to make an appearance.

What I felt when I was there couldn’t have been further from that fear. Instead, three other women in the room, including Sedge herself, felt exactly the same way. At one point she said I ought to be the one giving the presentation. It’s funny how as women, no matter what we achieve we can still be susceptible to imposter syndrome.

Overall, there were three pivotal workshops we had that changed the way I see myself and personal brand.

Build a 1% personal brand

The first workshop was led by Sedge Beswick, a British marketing strategist, speaker, and founder who’s held senior roles at companies like ASOS, built multiple businesses, and is now one of the most recognisable voices in the personal branding space. She’d made a video about me and Frugal Chic® a while back, and I’d spoken on her NXT LVL panel. What strikes me about Sedge is that she’s genuinely omnipresent; she has so many fingers in so many pies while also navigating motherhood, which I find so incredibly impressive.

Picture the setting: a room of mostly women, a Greek hotel, blue skies through the windows, that kind of warmth that kisses the skin. The room was full of people who wanted to build, who were mid-build, who were trying to figure out what they were even building.

Sedge opened with a story I wasn’t expecting. A £24 million private equity deal, negotiated while pregnant. A boardroom full of traditional finance types, men in suits, with presentations that effectively framed her pregnancy as a liability. She was told to buy a £10,000 Rolex just to be taken seriously in the room. The whole room gasped. She shared it not to invite sympathy, but as context for everything she’d learnt about building something that’s actually yours, on your terms.

This isn’t about posting better on LinkedIn.

This is about how you’re read in rooms that decide your income.

The reframe that stayed with me most: most people treat personal branding as a content problem, a posting frequency problem, a niche problem. Sedge’s argument is that it’s a clarity problem. Until you know your values and can prove them consistently, you’re just producing noise.

Her framework is built on three circles:

1. Who you are in real life. Not a curated version, the actual one. She used the example of swearing on a podcast, it’s the parts of you that you are unapologetic about. If there’s a gap between who you are online and who you are in a room, people feel it, and it costs you trust. A compliment I always value is if someone says to me “you know what? You’re exactly like you are in your videos.”

2. What you can prove. Not what you claim, but what you can point to with evidence, stories, and results. This doesn’t necessarily have to be a PhD, a Forbes 30 under 30 list or an MBA, sure those things are great, but most don’t start out with them, they’re a product of the work. Instead, lean into your specific expertise in an area of life where you had a significant transformation.

3. How consistently those two things align over time. It really is about showing up long enough. Most people give up after starting but those who stick it out long enough are the ones who become an ‘overnight success’ because no one was watching before.

She also laid out the NEST framework for monetising a personal brand:

Networking — building relationships that open doors you can’t access alone.
Events — putting yourself in the right rooms where opportunities naturally circulate.
Speaking — turning your ideas into paid authority.
Thought Leadership — consistently sharing perspectives that position you as someone worth paying attention to.

Something that resonated with me was that her own content process is deliberately unglamorous; voice-noting LinkedIn posts on the go, testing ideas before overthinking them, using platforms as live testing grounds rather than performance stages. This is something I relate to as a former perfectionist who now believes that the sooner something is out in the world, the sooner you can iterate.

What I took from Sedge’s session was that a strong personal brand is not built by trying to look impressive, but by getting clearer on who you are, what you can genuinely stand behind, and how that translates into actual commercial value. In other words, the goal is not just to be visible, but to be legible, memorable, and monetisable.

Breathwork with Leo Oppenheim

The next session was in a yoga studio. Candles lit, a jute mat laid out in the centre of a circle, stones and crystals arranged around the space. Before anything started, Leo burned what I think was sage. This kind of ritual, burning sacred plants to cleanse a space before ceremony, has roots in indigenous traditions across the Americas and beyond.

Leo Oppenheim is a breathwork, yoga, sound, and movement facilitator based in Manchester who draws from ancient traditions including pre-Columbian and indigenous Peruvian culture.

We started seated, setting an intention. Then we lay down, put on eye masks, and the music began. The breathwork moved through different patterns over the course of an hour: eight seconds in, eight seconds out, breath retention, then shorter cycles of four counts each. The patterns shift the chemistry of your body in a way that’s difficult to explain until you’ve done it.

Leo had prepared us for what to expect. Tingling in the hands and legs, involuntary muscle contractions, sudden movements. The body processing something it’s been holding. A few people in the room had visible emotional releases. The environment was deliberately judgement-free, which made that safe.

I didn’t have anything dramatic. What I had was stranger, and more useful.

Behind the eye mask, with the music moving through me and my breath doing something I’d never consciously asked it to do, I started seeing thoughts and memories, not in a distressing way, but almost cinematically. And the strange thing was, I wasn’t in them. I was watching them from the outside. Like looking at my own life through the eyes of someone with no stake in the outcome.

By the end, the room was quiet. Someone described it as relief, which is exactly the word. Not euphoria, not a breakdown, just a quiet settling. A sense of: oh, there I am.

I felt more present afterwards than I had in months. Not because anything had been resolved, but because for an hour I’d stopped performing my own life and simply observed it.

If you want to implement this yourself, try this:

1. Try it for 5 minutes, not an hour: you don’t need fancy crystals or anything really - just yourself and slowing down.

2. Track what comes up afterwards: just a short sentence about what you saw, how you felt - it doesn’t have to be perfect, it’s for you to notice patterns.

3. Try it when you are tempted to self-soothe with spending: If you feel that itch to buy something because you’re tired, flat, insecure, or overwhelmed, pause and breathe first. You may still want the thing afterwards, but at least the decision will be yours, not your nervous system’s.

4. Practice observing your life from an outsiders perspective: The most useful part of the session for me was not some huge emotional breakthrough. It was being able to watch my thoughts from the outside, almost cinematically, without immediately getting swept up in them. That alone is a skill. If you can observe your patterns without judging them, you can actually change them.

5. Treat nervous system regulation as part of financial wellness: optimise for slowness, intentionality with what you allow into your life through what plans you say yes to, what you buy, who you surround yourself with.

1:1 coaching and insights workshop

This was the session that surprised me most, partly because it looked, on the surface, like a standard corporate personality test.

We’d filled out the Insights Discovery assessment in advance, based on Jungian psychology, the idea that we each have a primary way of engaging with the world driven by four energy types: cool blue, earth green, sunshine yellow, and fiery red. My result came back as Observer; analytical, considered, and introverted in its orientation.

But before we even got to the group session, we had 1:1 coaching calls, which I’d never done before.

I’ll be honest with you: it was more emotional than I expected. Jess asked what my goals were, which sounds simple enough, and then gently kept going. What came up, sitting there answering questions I’d been too busy to ask myself, was the realisation that I hadn’t been taking care of myself properly. Not in a dramatic way. Just the quiet, accumulative neglect that happens when you’re optimising hard for output. Saying it out loud to another person made it real in a way that thinking it to myself never had.

The group session involved sitting in a circle opposite our psychological opposites, and then doing something uncomfortable: telling each other honestly what it’s like to work with or be around the other type. There was something liberating about being honest about what introverts felt frustrating with extroverts.

The extroverted, action-oriented types said about us: we can be too introspective. Too cautious. We can miss opportunities because we’re still processing while the moment has passed.

Because I’ve always framed my tendency to think carefully before moving as a strength, and it is, sometimes. But there’s a version of it that becomes avoidance dressed up as reflection. A version of “I need more time to process this” that is actually just fear of being wrong before everything is perfectly understood.

The framework isn’t about putting yourself in a box. It’s about recognising the box you’re already in, and deciding, consciously, when to step outside it.

The ROI of wellness

Every good investment deserves a returns breakdown. Here’s mine.

The underlying theme across all three sessions was the same question: do you actually know who you are and how you want to show up in the world. When was the last time you questioned thoughts and actions that happen on autopilot?

Here’s what I’m doing with what I found:

• Stopping optimising for noise. Sedge’s workshop reframed something I’d been doing without realising: chasing reach over resonance. Going forward I’m doubling down on values, impact, and my story, the parts of what I do that are actually mine, rather than what performs well in a given week. The compounding effect of a clear, consistent brand is one of the highest-returning assets I’ve built; I just need to stop diluting it.

• More intentional wellness, specifically breathwork. Not as an aesthetic or a routine to photograph, but as a genuine tool for nervous system regulation. If our emotional state drives our financial behaviour more than we’d like to admit, then investing time in regulating that state is, by that logic, a financial decision.

• Leaning into my type, and working better with my opposite. Knowing I’m an Observer means I can stop treating my need to process as a flaw and start using it intentionally. It also means I can actively seek out the people who are wired differently, the ones who move fast, who decide in the room, because the gap between us is where a lot of good decisions live.

None of this required a retreat in Crete. But something about being away, the warm air, the slow mornings, the fact that your phone barely mattered, made it easier to actually receive what was already true.

Subscribe to my YouTube so you don’t miss the vlog from Crete.

This newsletter is kindly sponsored by XTB who are offering 6% on a Cash ISA currently for the first 90 days after opening.

Start building wealth today

AD | Disclaimer: Your capital is at risk when investing. The value of investments and the income from them can fall as well as rise and you might lose the original amount invested. Fluctuations in such value and income can result from factors such as market movements and variations in exchange rates. Past performance is not a reliable indicator of future results. 2% ISA rate boost for 90 days. New clients only. T&Cs apply.

It’s a new financial year, so for us at Frugal Chic®, it matters even more than January.

This is the time to reset, assess where you are now, and look at what you can optimise going forward.

One thing I’m still not happy about is the gap in financial literacy, particularly among women. Boring Money’s 2025 estimate puts the UK gender investment gap at £678 billion1. It’s safe to say we need more women to care about their finances, feel that it’s for them and to close the knowledge gap. This is something I’ve always tried to change through my content by being transparent about money, breaking down complex ideas into simple frameworks, and representing a different kind of image in the finance space.

Like many people, I spent years trying to look the part. I wanted to look like I had everything together: the right clothes, the right makeup, the right skincare. I thought that would make me feel liked and accepted. What I did not realise was that building financial freedom would become the single biggest factor in the confidence and freedom I have now. Being able to work for myself, increase my income, and rely on an emergency fund has given me more confidence than any blush or cleanser ever could.

So, in this issue, I want to go back to basics. Not in a patronising way where I compare stocks to lip gloss, but in a practical one, the money handbook I wish I had at 18. Because every new financial year is a chance to get honest about where you are, unlearn what is not serving you, and build better systems from there. This was inspired by my ultimate role model , she has been my goat for content since day 1 and this newsletter wouldn’t exist without her influence on me.

(Not financial advice. When investing, your capital is at risk. This is purely for informational purposes only.)

in this issue:

• the money stories and limiting beliefs shaping how you earn, spend, save, and invest

• a money audit to get honest about where your finances stand right now

• how to save properly, so it feels intentional rather than restrictive

• investing basics, so you can build long-term wealth with more clarity and less fear

• the key tax allowances and optimisation opportunities worth knowing this financial year

• how to approach debt and credit cards without shame, and manage them more strategically

• simple systems and automations that make good money habits easier to maintain

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the money stories you need to outgrow

The first thing I want you to recognise is that there is no such thing as being naturally ‘bad with money’. Money is a skill. It is something you learn through exposure, through trial and error, and through being in environments where these conversations are normal. Some people obviously have a massive head start.

I did not go to private school. My parents were not financially literate, and I did not grow up around many people who understood how money worked. So, like a lot of people, I spent my early years navigating money in the dark.

Honestly, it was almost by chance that when I got to university, I had male friends who talked about stocks as casually as they talked about beer or football. That was when these conversations started to open up for me. But at the beginning, I was very much pretending I knew what an ISA was and clumsily pronouncing it ‘I-S-A’ instead of ‘Ice-ah’.

While I was curious to learn and took it upon myself to self-study the topic for 7+ years, I realised through trial and error, and learning the hard way, that a lot of unhelpful beliefs were still directing my money choices.

I remember being deep in my shopaholic phase and saying things like, “I’m too broke right now,” “I can’t afford that,” or “I’m so bad with money,” as if it were a badge of honour, a self-deprecating joke. And in the UK, we do love a bit of that.

And that is the thing. A lot of people are moving through adulthood repeating inherited beliefs without ever questioning whether those beliefs are useful.

Things like:

• I’m just bad with money

• wanting more money is greedy

• hard work will make you rich

• money is either for spending now or saving for later

If you believe money is ethically wrong, you are less likely to ask for more, earn more, invest more, or build more. If you believe hard work should automatically equal income, you will be confused by a world that rewards leverage, ownership, and scalability over effort. If you think about money dogmatically, as though it only has one job, you end up living a restrictive life at both ends of the frugal and frivolous spectrum.

These kinds of beliefs are not especially helpful for building wealth because they are often rooted in scarcity, shame, or simply not knowing any better. The goal isn’t to judge yourself for having them, but to reflect on whether they are truly helpful to your financial life right now.

your financial reality check

Before you start following a complicated budget, paying off debt, or investing, there’s one simple step you can take to get on the path to clearer finances: a money audit.

It’s an honest look at where you currently are financially.

Grab a pen and paper and sit down, note:

• your income

• your expenses

• your savings

• your pension

• your investments

• your debt

The reason this matters is because, without a clear picture of where you are, all your goals stay vague.

You end up saying things like, “I want to save more this year,” instead of, “I have £180 left after my fixed and variable expenses, so I can realistically direct that towards my emergency fund.”

Once everything is laid out, organise your expenses into fixed, variable, and one-off categories. Add them up. Then subtract your monthly spending from your monthly net income.

E.g. Tallying up your income and it comes to £2,500, your expenses come to £2,135. You then have £365 left over.

That will tell you one of three things:

• you have a surplus

• you are breaking even

• you are in a deficit

If you have a surplus, that is your capacity to save, invest, or accelerate debt repayment.

If you are breaking even, that tells you there is currently no margin for wealth building.

If you are in a deficit, something needs to change, whether that is spending, income, or both.

If you are the last two, that is totally normal and this is not a judgement. However, just doing this simple act gets you closer to where you want to be. Forget about age, comparison, expectation, this is simply your own relationship with money that you’re getting more honest about.

The benefit of doing this is to clearly see everything in one place rather than fragmented through bank accounts, budgeting apps, and emails.

The next step is to ask yourself:

• Does my spending reflect the life I actually want to build?

• Where am I overspending out of habit, convenience, boredom, or emotion?

• Where am I being too restrictive in ways that make life feel unnecessarily joyless?

• Are my purchases supporting a chosen identity, or are they trying to manufacture one?

A lot of spending is not about the item itself. It is about what the item represents. Status. Comfort. Distraction. Belonging. Having this awareness allows you to make more intentional choices later on.

Rather than saying “I want to save more” or “spend less”, you know what you’re working towards, which is pouring into those areas you value.

saving is the real self care

The first golden rule of personal finance is simple: you must spend less than you earn. If you do not do that, you cannot save. And if you cannot save, you cannot build wealth. There is no way around this. But just because it’s a simple rule, it doesn’t mean it’s easy. If it were easy, Buy Now Pay Later companies wouldn’t thrive. That’s why it’s kinda unhelpful to tell people they should save, we all know we ought to do that, so instead let’s get into the mind of a saver, see how they think differently.

There are people who save consistently do not view it as punishment or restriction on their current life.

Instead of treating saving like an unpleasant chore or something they “ought” to do, like eating the veg on their plate or going to the dentist, they treat it as a strategic decision about what they want their life to look like in five, ten, or twenty years.

Who save effortlessly aren’t magically born better at managing money, they simply have values as established with the Splurge vs Save list, and they use systems like a clear budget.

A common rule of thumb is the 50/30/20 budget2. The idea is simple: allocate 50% of your after-tax income to needs, 30% to wants, and 20% to savings or debt repayment.

In practice, in cities like London or New York, it is often unrealistic.

When rent alone can take up 40–50% of take-home pay, expecting all essential living costs to fit neatly into the remaining margin can feel restrictive. The result is that many people feel they are “failing” at budgeting, when in reality the framework no longer matches modern economics.

I’ve come up with a more realistic version, which I call the Frugal Chic 4 C’s. We divide our after-tax income into: Core, Cushion, Compound, and Curate.

• Core - 60%: essentials like rent and bills

• Cushion - 10%: emergency fund

• Compound - 20%: pensions, ISAs - where real wealth is built

• Curate - 10%: fun money pot

Due to the values of Frugal Chic® which is to optimise for freedom and optionality, the compound bucket is perhaps larger than what other budgeting frameworks show. You can adjust it to your liking.

It’s also worth noting that your cushion (emergency fund) will inevitably fill up, which means you could allocate that extra 10% to your Curate fund.

The purpose of the 4 C’s is not to fit your finances perfectly into the percentages but to have a reference point, a guideline. Don’t worry if your Core is coming to more than 70% and you physically can’t save at the moment. This guide is simply to bring awareness at this stage.

invest with confidence

Investing is often the most daunting topic when it comes to personal finance. I remember feeling like it was akin to gambling, or that you had to be an expert. This section aims to demystify it and simplify it, showing that investing can be simple, accessible, and one of the most powerful tools for creating long-term freedom.

It really can be broken down into a few steps:

• start with active research: a podcast on a walk, a youtube video in the evening, a money book for the month

• build your cushion first: 3-6 months worth of living expenses, it ensures you don’t have to potentially sell during a downturn (essential in times like these)

• understand the time horizon: don’t invest money you might need in the next 5 years

• choose the right account wrapper: in the UK that’s an ISA, pension etc.

• keep it simple: For many beginners, one low-cost global index fund is enough to start.

• automate it: Set up regular contributions and let consistency do its job.

The key thing to remember is you do not need to feel like an expert to begin. You need to understand enough to act responsibly, then stay consistent long enough for compounding to work it’s magic.

Compound interest is when you earn interest on both your original money and the interest already added.

Example:

You invest £1,000 and earn 10% a year.

• Year 1: you earn £100 → total £1,100

• Year 2: you earn 10% on £1,100, not just the original £1,000 → £110

• Year 3: you earn 10% on £1,210 → £121

That is compound interest.

With stocks though, you are not usually being paid “interest” in the normal sense. Your money is growing through returns.

Compound interest is a type of compounding, but investing is more accurately driven by compounding returns.

it’s not about how much you earn, it’s how much you keep

One of the biggest expenses of our time isn’t a fancy car or luxury holiday, it’s tax. We’re taxed pretty much at any stage of life, when we work, buy things, even (god forbid) die. So Frugal Chic® women know that legally avoiding overpaying it is the smart move.

You do not need to become a tax expert overnight, but you should know the key allowances available to you so you are not accidentally leaving money on the table.

More specifically, here are a few key ones for the UK for 2026/27.

• ISA allowance
  You can put up to £20,000 across your adult ISAs in the 2026 to 2027 tax year, and the tax year runs from 6 April to 5 April. A Lifetime ISA still has a £4,000 annual limit within that overall ISA allowance. You could consider opening an ISA with XTB who are offering 6% on a Cash ISA currently for the first 90 days after opening.

Start building wealth today

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• Pension annual allowance
  The standard pension annual allowance is £60,000. This can be lower for some higher earners because of tapering, and the tapered annual allowance floor remains £10,000.

• Trading allowance
  You can earn up to £1,000 in gross trading or side hustle income each tax year before you may need to report it, although there are exceptions depending on your wider tax situation.

If you want to use this new financial year properly, the aim is not to max out these allowances - very few people are able to do that. But knowing about them and taking small steps towards using them is the key.

debt is not a personality flaw

That is one of those topics that brings up a lot of shame in people, but it really shouldn’t be that way. Debt is not a failure. It is often the result of poor education, aggressive marketing, survival decisions, low income, or simply not understanding how it works. Notice how none of those options were frivolous or putting the blame on you.

Credit is also pushed onto us constantly. It used to be mostly credit cards. Now it arrives rebranded as Buy Now Pay Later services. Klarna. Clearpay. Instalments. Tiny decisions that do not feel like debt until they ultimately do.

The issue with debt is not only the balance. It is the feeling. Owing your future income to someone else is one of the worst financial feelings there is.

So, I personally haven’t been in debt because my parents told me credit cards were evil, but if I had been in debt, this is exactly what I would do.

So the first step is clarity.

List every debt:

• lender

• balance

• minimum payment

• annual interest rate

Then choose a repayment method.

• Debt avalanche means paying off the highest-interest debt first. It is mathematically most efficient.

• Debt snowball means paying off the smallest balance first. It is not always the cheapest, but it can be better for motivation.

If you have high-interest consumer debt, tackling that is often a better financial move than rushing to invest. A credit card charging punishing interest is likely doing more damage than your investments can undo.

This won’t happen overnight, but knowing about these methods and putting a name to them can make you feel like you’re one step closer to clearing it.

automate the boring

Often we ignore finances because they feel like one of those obligatory life admin tasks that just saps the life out of us.

But often, not looking at these things makes your life a whole lot more chaotic. So if your whole financial life depends on remembering, deciding, resisting, or manually moving your money around every month, eventually it will be one of those extra things that sets you over the edge on a really busy day.

You have limited energy, and while the rest of this letter was about saving money, saving your energy and time are just as important.

So automation speeds up this process and puts your saving on autopilot.

I would aim to set up automations for all of these different buckets:

• your bills

• your savings

• your investments

• your spending money

Something that I did only recently, which I am quite embarrassed to admit, is set up the direct debit to my partner’s bank account because we split our rent and bills 50/50. It only made sense for me to set that up exactly on the day I get paid because before, I was remembering, setting a calendar notification, and manually transferring it, and it was just another thing that I had to do, especially as someone trying to run a business.

Automating also allows you to plan ahead for big spending goals. If you know your yoga class costs £12 a week, build that into your Curate bucket. If you know Christmas always catches you off guard, even though it happens every single year like clockwork, set up the sinking fund now and spare yourself the annual suprise to your finances.

So, having systems and automations in place just makes saving and investing an automatic part of your life and identity rather than something that you actively have to try and force yourself to do.

redefining wealth

I saw a quote from Erin Confortini, who is one of my favourite creators on money, and she said:

That really stuck with me because that is ultimately my goal with financial literacy and financial freedom: to understand these things closely, not to obsess over money, but to understand what money can buy, which is more time, optionality, and freedom.

Once you have control of your money, you notice how it stops controlling your mood, your choices, and your sense of self. It’s there to build stability and structure so that you’re not constantly swayed by marketing or impulse spending, but rather you spend intentionally on the things you truly value.

In my last letter, I talked about low status, high income, and how a lot of people are optimising for high status but with fragile financial backing. In this new era of AI, geopolitical uncertainty, I think it is even more important now than ever to focus more on building true wealth that is meaningful to you rather than what looks good to society.

So now you’ve read this newsletter, I hope you feel one step closer to being more financially literate. The point isn’t to be perfect or to try and do this all overnight. It’s simply to understand that these steps can be broken down very simply. You do not necessarily have to read a whole book or watch endless YouTube videos. You can start today with small habits.

Until next week,
Mia

I saw talking about this and it named a sentiment we’ve been seeing for a while now. We’ve been taught to optimise for status: impressive job titles, big-name companies, careers that look successful. But status and income don’t always go hand in hand.

There are people working “prestigious” jobs like doctors, lawyers, and teachers earning £50–70k, burning out, and waiting on their next promotion. And there are people running niche businesses, freelancing, or building audiences earning multiples of that, quietly. No title. No prestige. No external validation. Often earning more than said jobs, and usually more control over their time.

I found this when I transitioned from working in fashion to doing content full-time. The irony was that I was earning more as a creator, but introducing myself as a ‘Junior Account Manager’ somehow garnered more respect than ‘influencer’. Even though it was still a ‘low status’ job, in the sense I was junior, I still feel uncomfortable telling people what I do now. The impression is that I just go to restaurants and pout all day, getting paid thousands to sit at home and chill. The irony is, like anything, it’s a business that requires work 24/7 at the start to get it off the ground, but on the surface it looks effortless.

Worth noting too that status is subjective, and it moves. Creators were not taken seriously even 10 years ago. I was speaking to Patricia Bright recently who said when she left her prestigious job, she didn’t tell anyone. She pretended to still be working there, because the reaction really was ‘so you just put on makeup all day’. Now it's a legitimate career, studies show there’s a growing interest for young kids to become a creator. A 2025 survey of 910 US Gen Alpha kids aged 12-15, conducted by social commerce platform Whop, found that nearly a third want to be YouTubers, while one in five aspire to become TikTok creators (Fast Company). While it doesn't quite hold the prestige of the traditional path yet, but that gap is narrowing faster than most people realise.

I am glad I made this switch because I felt there was potential and opportunity cost. That while I may not even have a regular title, my potential to reach financial freedom seemed all the more within reach.

It’s worth noting that low status jobs are risky, I couldn’t have pursued this without the financial safety net of having a job, a great support network and my emergency fund. But one is a financial risk, the other is a time risk. The time spent almost in a sunk cost fallacy, that ‘ive worked so hard for this prestigious title, i can’t let go’ is time you could spend also building something of your own. The best part is, a lot of these side hustles or ventures can be pursued alongside a full-time job, you don’t have to pick between them.

This brought me back to something Nischa once spoke about that really stayed with me: the difference between the status game and the wealth game. So many people are still optimising for how their life looks to other people, whether that’s through expensive purchases, impressive job titles, or outward signs of success that feel good to show but don’t necessarily create real security.

The wealth game is different. It is far less visible and a lot less instantly gratifying, but it is rooted in things that actually build freedom: saving properly, investing in assets, creating additional income streams, and putting time into your own development so your skills compound over time. What makes Nischa interesting is that she has experienced both worlds. She had the kind of prestigious banking career that naturally gives someone authority, and she still carries the credibility that came with that, but now she operates as a creator.

@nischa.me@nischa.me reveals the one mistake people make when it comes to measuring their wealth. Are you playing the status game or the wealth game? @nischa.me @nischa.me @nischa.me #accountant #money #personalfinance

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This isn’t about rejecting ambition, or the stability of corporate. It’s about choosing which game you’re playing. The status game optimises for titles, recognition, linear progression, and external validation. The wealth game optimises for ownership, leverage, scalable income, and optionality. Most people chase both, which is fine, but it's crowded. The interesting opportunity sits in the gap: the paths that the status-chasers have already dismissed, leaving the field surprisingly open for anyone willing to trade a title for a head start.

You either look rich or you build it. And increasingly, the people building it don’t look like what we were told success should look like.

If you’re early in your career, this is worth thinking about. Are you optimising for how it looks, or for what it actually pays?

That’s all this week,

Mia xx

I feel this a lot. As a recovering people pleaser, or rather an overachieving big sister, I often find myself saying yes to things that don’t energise me, out of an imagined obligation. Or I’ll catch myself following a train of thought I heard on TikTok without questioning whether it actually makes sense in my life.

This isn’t another self-improvement essay. It’s something deeper than that. It’s something I’m still actively working through, day by day.

My only real “credentials” are that I went from being the shy kid, constantly told I was “too quiet”, to now getting paid to talk, whether that’s showing up online in front of millions of people or speaking on panels with hundreds in the audience. I used to be someone who made excuses and operated from limiting beliefs. Now my life feels like it revolves around opportunities that flow towards me, rather than ones I have to chase. The same goes for the people I’ve met, the rooms I’ve entered, and the network I’ve built.

So forget cold plunges, 5am mornings, and whatever the latest productivity ritual is this week. The biggest predictor of whether someone builds an interesting, successful, self-directed life isn’t how optimised their routine is. It’s whether they have agency. High agency, specifically. The ability to make decisions, create paths, and move through life without waiting for permission or external validation.

The term doesn’t have one clear originator. George Mack is often credited with popularising it, and I first came across it through , who speaks about it in the context of the creator economy and self employment. But regardless of where it came from, it clearly resonates because it names something most people feel is missing. We live in a culture saturated with advice, systems, and opinions, yet very few people feel genuinely in control of their own lives. At its simplest, high agency is the ability to make decisions and act on them without needing permission.

Gen Z has become slightly obsessed with this idea of free will. You’ll see it in content framed as “you can just do things.” And while that can come across as unserious or even naive, there’s something real underneath it. It’s the rejection of default paths.

The problem is, most people still move through life unconsciously. We go to school, get told a degree will secure our future, climb the corporate ladder, and retire at 65. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that path. For many people stability is the goal. The issue is not choosing that path, it’s believing it’s the only one available. That ambition, success, or a different kind of life is reserved for people who are already wealthy, connected, or naturally talented.

Becoming high agency starts with a mindset shift: you move from seeing yourself as controlled by circumstances to seeing yourself as someone who actively shapes outcomes.

“Life is happening to me” reflects a passive stance, where external events and other people dictate your direction.

“I am happening to life” reflects an active stance, where you take ownership of your decisions, beliefs, and actions, regardless of external approval.

So what does high agency actually look like in practice? One example is having interests or paths that don’t neatly make sense. A singer who codes, a gymnast who listens to heavy metal, a pharmacist who builds a personal brand online. For me, it’s studying fashion, working in fashion, modelling, and then building a personal brand around personal finance. If no one is slightly surprised by what you do, you’re probably playing it safe. This isn’t about being random for the sake of it. It’s about pursuing curiosity without waiting for permission or proof that you “fit.”

Another example is decision-making. Before I left my 9–5, I asked everyone. My partner, friends, strangers, other creators. I wanted certainty. But what I was really doing was outsourcing responsibility. We’re conditioned to seek authority from other people. Unless that independence is nurtured early, it’s something you have to actively build later. High agency people understand that there is no perfect decision. There is only action. You move, you learn, you adjust. What’s harder to recover from isn’t making the wrong decision, it’s not moving at all.

A less obvious one is how they think. High agency people aren’t rigidly attached to one ideology or way of seeing the world. They have values, but they’re not dogmatic. They can hold nuance. They see things in greyscale rather than black and white. They think critically, question assumptions, and don’t automatically align themselves with a group just for the sake of belonging. This isn’t about politics or religion. It’s about intellectual independence. If anything, they start by Googling stances that prove their point wrong.

The three components

George Mack describes high agency as three core traits. Remove one, and the whole thing collapses. 1

Clear thinking means not taking information at face value. When someone says “most people” or “studies show,” you ask which people, which studies. In a world of misinformation, this is becoming a survival skill.

Bias to action means not waiting for perfect conditions. You act, then figure things out. Most people think overthinking is intelligence, when it’s often just avoidance.

Disagreeability means not needing to be liked all the time. You can admit when you’re wrong, change your mind, and explore ideas without needing immediate certainty.

This is crucial to our mission at Frugal Chic: building wealth and financial freedom without sacrificing style.

Because taste, real taste, doesn’t come from following. It comes from deciding.

A tasteful person isn’t just someone who buys the “right” things. They’re someone who has spent time experimenting, refining, editing. They’ve developed discernment. And that only happens when you have agency. When you’re willing to trust your own judgement over trends, algorithms, or social approval.

Without agency, “chic” quickly turns into consumption. You’re not curating your life, you’re just reacting to it. Buying what’s trending, copying what’s validated, chasing a version of success.

Frugal Chic is about rejecting the default script. It’s choosing your own standards over the ones you’ve absorbed, especially when it comes to money. When you develop your own definition of what a “good life” looks like, your spending becomes more intentional, and far more aligned. You stop buying for approval and start allocating for freedom.

That same lens extends beyond spending. You choose a career path that optimises for autonomy and optionality, not just prestige or a higher salary.

Because in the end, the goal was never to look like you had a life. It was to actually be the one choosing it.

Action points:

1. make one decision daily without outsourcing it
No polls, no asking friends, no “what would you do?” texts. Start small if you need to. What you wear, what you post, what you say yes or no to. The point is training the muscle of self-trust.

2. audit your “default yes” moments
Catch yourself in real time when you’re about to agree out of obligation. Pause and ask: would I choose this if no one expected it from me? If the answer is no, start getting comfortable saying a clean, polite no.

3. replace overthinking with a 48-hour rule
If it’s not life-altering, give yourself 48 hours max to decide, then move. No endless research loops. No waiting until you feel “ready.” You’re not confused, you’re avoiding responsibility.

4. deliberately do one thing that doesn’t “make sense”
Follow a curiosity that doesn’t fit your current identity. Post something different. Learn something unrelated. Go to a room you feel slightly underqualified for. This breaks the idea that you need permission or a perfect narrative before you act.

5. challenge one belief you’ve inherited
Pick something you “just believe” about money, success, work, or yourself and question it properly. Where did it come from? Is it actually true, or just repeated? High agency starts when you realise a lot of your thinking isn’t even yours.

That’s all this week,

Mia xx

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It’s understandable why.

Blue jeans, a black headband, tortoiseshell shades. These are readily available items that most people already own some version of.

While it’s valuable to have fashion inspirations and draw from icons, it rarely translates in the same way. More often, we recreate outwardly rather than pausing to ask whether those specific pieces actually align with our current lifestyle.

The only risk I see is that you end up getting pulled into trends, into whatever the current flavour of the month is, instead of developing a real sense of personal style, which isn’t something you can buy overnight.

And that’s exactly what’s happening with Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy.

You can reduce a woman to a uniform far quicker than you can understand the conditions that produced her.

Here at Frugal Chic, we’re going to pause that instinct to cut and paste.

Because copying her is missing the point entirely.

in this issue:

• why copying her style doesn’t work

• the missing layer: discernment

• how her lifestyle shaped her wardrobe

• minimalism as control, not aesthetic

• how to build taste, not just outfits

She’s our Frugal Chic muse, not because she was financially frugal, but because visually, she was. It’s about what her taste represents.

Minimalism is usually framed as an aesthetic choice. Frugality as a financial one. But they come from the same place: making decisions under constraint.

Both require you to say no more than you say yes. And in that repeated refusal, something starts to take shape. Discernment.

That’s where she sits. And more importantly, that’s why her image still feels relevant in a world constantly pushing you towards more. More options, more trends, more consumption, more visibility.

Her style feels calm not because it’s simple, but because it’s grounded. There’s a level of confidence there that can’t be bought or copied overnight. It didn’t come from a template or an influencer’s recommendation, it came from a life that was actually lived that way, not performed.

why this trend keeps failing

If you closely examine the GRWMs, the styling videos, they’re not bad but something feels off.

The proportions, colour palette, references might be spot on, but imitation is never as good as the original. The issue is, people often start with an aesthetic to imitate, a visual aid. Then the person attempts to reverse-engineer their life around it.

Carolyn’s style worked in the opposite direction. It was built from her life outward. She wasn’t dressing to communicate something new every day. She wasn’t using clothing as a performance. She wasn’t trying to be seen in a particular way. She was dressing to feel aligned with her lifestyle, what made sense for her own circumstances.Most modern style advice optimises for attention rather than alignment. What will look best on the feed, what is considered “chic” right now, how quickly you can adapt to the next micro-trend.

Now, I’m not claiming to be the most chic or stylish person, but after spending over two years working in luxury wholesale, I was constantly around people who were. People who had spent years refining their taste, pulling from fashion history, understanding design, treating style almost like an extension of art. What I noticed is that the most stylish people weren’t experimenting endlessly, they had a kind of uniform they returned to. And it wasn’t easy to copy, because it was so specific to how they actually lived.

So what if it’s less about copying the clothes, and more about adopting the filter she approached them with in the first place?

the missing layer: discernment

Discernment is not just “having good taste”. It is the ability to filter.

To stand in front of ten options and immediately eliminate nine, not because they are objectively bad, but because they are unnecessary. Carolyn had that. We often think taste is a trait only the elites are born with. Sure, having money, time, and the many privileges that come with that make it easier to practise taste.

However, sociologist Pierre Bourdieu argued that taste is a form of cultural capital. It is discernment, the ability to filter through noise and recognise what a society considers refined, valuable, or desirable. There is no universal version of what taste is, only standards that groups agree upon, often without realising it. Once you understand that, taste starts to feel like a muscle you can train. It is available to anyone willing to train their eye.

Carolyn’s ability to discern wasn’t innate, it was trained. Her time at Calvin Klein in the 1990s placed her at the centre of a very specific aesthetic philosophy. Calvin Klein at that time was not about decoration. It was about reduction. Removing everything that did not serve the form.

Moreover, working in a PR there meant her job was to control perception. She was constantly thinking about how things read commercially. What feels effortless on camera. What holds up under scrutiny. What becomes timeless versus what dates quickly.

It’s easy to assume her style was an automatic extension of her class or simply a byproduct of her lifestyle, but what appeared effortless on the surface was underpinned by a high level of intention and thought.

she dressed for her life, not an audience

Then layer on the fact she lived in New York.

Not the cinematic version we recall from films, but the lived-in version. Walking, commuting, existing in public spaces. Clothing has to be functional and versatile. Jeans and loafers, wool coats and boots, all very comfortable but stylish. Think classics that look better with wear, not worse.

And then layer on visibility.

Being married to John F. Kennedy Jr. meant living under constant surveillance. Photographed relentlessly, analysed endlessly, yet she was publicy as reserved as her fashion sense was. There is famously almost no recorded footage of her speaking. Her style suggests she treaded lightly, avoiding attention and controversy. Being in the public eye came with a level of pressure and scrutiny that most people would struggle to tolerate, where even the smallest choices were picked apart and turned into something bigger than they were.

The irony is, her wardrobe wasn’t aspirational in the way people assume. It was functional. Editors and stylists consistently point out that she “knew what worked and repeated it”, with nothing excessive or unnecessary (source). Neutral tones, clean lines, dependable options. Some see it as boring, but really it was about efficiency. Each item had a role which in turn reduced decision fatigue.

This is why her outfits feel effortless. They were selected from a system that had already been curated.

These are a few pieces that I interpret from this framework, but the point is, it looks different for everyone:

she was observed, not performed

It today’s world, everything is on show. Even as a content creator, I feel this, the pressure to be transparent. Part of what made Carolyn captivating was the mystery surrounding her. She existed in public, but she did not perform in public. There were no explanations, no captions, no behind-the-scenes context. She didn’t attempt to control the narrative through constant output. She was simply seen. In a strange way, that created more intrigue. Because when someone is not over-explained, you project more onto them. You study the details more closely. You try to understand the choices.

Although she was one of the most photographed people of that time, she kept a lot private, due to her class, the time, and her line of work.

Today, we do the opposite. We fill every gap. Every thought is shared, every decision explained, every outfit overanalysed.

It sounds obvious, but the takeaway is simple: if you want to be more authentic with fashion or develop a signature style, you have to stop comparing and stop over-explaining. Just re-wear what works, wear what makes sense for your life, and slowly curate your wardrobe over time, ignoring the noise.

the frugal chic translation

If you actually what to emulate her essense rather than copying and pasting the outfit, your process has to change.

1. Assess your current lifestyle. Your career, the climate, the pace of life. Where you go, how you move, what you need your clothes to do. It may not look like mid-wash jeans and loafers. It might be more outdoorsy, more corporate, or softer. The point isn’t the aesthetic, it’s the alignment with your own life. Minimalism isn’t just a sad beige life and timeless looks different for everyone.

2. Reduce. Not in a dramatic declutter by a gradual process. Remove what doesn’t get worn, what doesn’t feel right, what doesn’t serve a purpose. My favourite hack is using the money I make selling old things to buy more secondhand clothing, almost creating an infinite fund for shopping (if you buy things that don’t depreciate too much in value). Therefore, buying more becomes a slow iterative process rather than a quick fix.

3. Refine. Pay attention to the variables that matter. Fit, fabric, proportion. Making an effort to check the care label each time you buy something. Checking the seams for quality. Pay close attention to how fabrics feel next to the skin. The whole ‘buy it nice or buy it twice’ can seem tone deaf, but the point isn’t to go out and buy a whole new designer wardrobe for £1,000, it’s to very slowly incorporate this knowledge of quality into future choices.

4. Commit. Stop rebranding every season. Stop chasing every micro-aesthetic. Let your style stabilise. No-buys and low-buys aren’t just financial decisions, they’re psychological. They show you what you actually wear when shopping isn’t a distraction or a hobby. I’m doing a challenge over on short form where I buy 12 items in a year. The goal isn’t some arbitrary number, it’s only selecting the one most valuable item that month (if there is one, or else I buy nothing).

5. Mystery. If you’re not using social media to build something, there’s no need to treat it like a performance. Either stay private, or use it more lightly, as a tool to observe and refine your taste rather than chase validation. Think of those low-key, insider-feeling feeds. Random, zoomed-in objects. Candid moments. Slightly unpolished. Still curated, but not engineered for approval like highly stylised feeds. There’s something freeing in that. It shifts posting from being seen to seeing. From performing to noticing. More like a digital diary. A place to collect what you’re drawn to, what you return to, what actually reflects you.

You don’t want Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy’s style.

You want her eye for quality. Her taste. Her restraint. That quiet sense of mystery.

You’re probably never going to fully replicate it, but that’s not really the point. In trying, you end up sharpening your own standards.

You start buying less, but better. Making decisions quicker, but with more certainty. You stop dressing for some imaginary version of how you think you should look, and start dressing for your actual life.

And in a world that constantly pushes you towards more, that level of discernment isn’t just aesthetic, it’s financial too.

That’s all this week.

From the outside, it looks like momentum. More followers. More opportunities. More income.

And to be honest, a lot of it has been exactly that.

But behind the scenes, it’s been far less polished than people think.

No one really talks about the awkward middle. The mistakes you make when you don’t know the rules yet. The moments where you realise you’ve been undercharging, oversharing, or saying yes to things that quietly pull you away from the brand you’re trying to build.

In this piece, I’m breaking down a few of the lessons that changed how I operate completely. The ones I wish I had understood earlier, before they cost me time, money, and a lot of second-hand embarrassment.

In this issue:

• Why announcing too early can cost you more than money

• The hidden cost of “free” PR and why it rarely benefits you

• How undercharging quietly transfers thousands out of your pocket

• Why “being grateful” can actually hold your business back

• The parts of the creator economy no one explains until you’ve already made the mistake

Intellectual property

The first thing is trademarking. When I was leaving my 9–5 to go full-time with content creation, my mind was whirring with ideas about how I would turn this into a fully fledged company, not just content. My worst fear was being seen as an “influencer” (even though that’s what I was), perhaps because of the negative connotations it evokes. This drive to be taken seriously, paired with the traction that Frugal Chic was gaining at the time, with people copying or citing me, made me realise I had to take immediate action.

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Happy Sunday!

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the fear of putting yourself out there.

I struggled a lot with confidence growing up. I was the shy, quiet kid, too afraid of even answering the phone, who’d get heart palpitations whenever “get into groups” was mentioned at school, whose palms would sweat when my parents forced me to go to army camp (yes, I did act like Sacha Baron Cohen in Brüno, iykyk).

But fast forward 10 years to now: I’ve somehow become someone who literally gets paid to yap. To give my insights and experience, even when I am not the person who has the most knowledge in the room.

Sometimes I stop and think about how strange that transformation actually is.

I often wonder how different my life would be if I had stayed in that comfort zone of anonymity and quietness. I wrote recently that there was a time I didn’t have ANY social media, and it was an extremely peaceful time of my life. It was calm. It was quiet.

But it was also a time where my growth stagnated.

I wasn’t getting opportunities. I wasn’t meeting people who thought differently. And I held a lot of limiting beliefs, like thinking being successful or rich came down to luck or good looks alone.

Which led me to a realisation.

If you are more on the introverted side, you quietly pay what I think of as the “introvert tax.”

You let others speak for you.
You say yes to things you don’t really want to do.
You isolate yourself.
You get easily embarrassed in public situations.
You overthink every social interaction.

And over time, this quietly blocks a lot of opportunities.

Not just social opportunities, but financial ones too. Because the people who tend to benefit in the long run are the ones willing to raise their hand, share their ideas, or simply be visible.

The introvert tax often means you end up sitting on the sidelines rather than being the main character in your own life.

And this doesn’t come out of nowhere.

It could be a personality trait.
It could be growing up feeling like other siblings or relatives shone brighter socially.
It could be being taught to be overly polite.
It could be being told to stay quiet and let other people speak.
Or feeling that your voice, especially as a woman, wasn’t as valuable.

For me, I can trace some of it back to being an adoptee and growing up always feeling a little bit like the “alien”, the odd one out.

Being quiet became my way of not drawing any more attention to myself.

But over time, I realised something important.

Quietness itself was never the real problem.

Quietness isn’t a flaw

When you grow up being on the more reserved side, people often say things like “you’re too quiet” or “you need to speak up more.”

Interestingly, no one ever tells people who are too loud that they should be quieter.

Quiet people tend to be better listeners. There’s a certain wisdom you obtain from observing, waiting, and calculating. Like a game of chess, you allow the other person to reveal their weaknesses or vulnerabilities first.

But the world often rewards audacity.

The loudest person in the room, the person who shouts the loudest, even if they are not the most qualified or knowledgeable, often ends up getting the opportunities.

This is why teachers tell kids to speak up more in class. It’s why charismatic personalities often get promoted faster.

For years I felt like quietness was a defect to fix, an ailment to cure.

So I tried to adopt a more gregarious personality.

The problem was that it wasn’t authentic to me.

When you treat quietness like a flaw to fix, you end up overcompensating. You try to become someone else entirely.

What I eventually realised is that you can still make an impact, make change, and establish authority without changing your personality.

Noise and power are two very different things.

There is a difference between someone who shouts the loudest and someone who commands respect. The person who selects their best and most valuable ideas. The person who says less, but better.

Quietness can absolutely be a strength.

The only real cost is when quietness turns into invisibility.

When you stay silent, constantly put others first, and spend huge amounts of energy trying to avoid embarrassment.

Because embarrassment was never the real problem.

Embarrassment is the cost of admission

The truth is life is embarrassing.

I love the phrase that was going around on short-form recently (apologies, I couldn’t find the original creator) that every choice we make while alive is essentially a humiliation ritual.

Working in corporate often means pretending to care deeply about maximising shareholder value.

Being freelance can mean unpredictable months and times where work is completely dry.

Not putting yourself out there often leads to mediocrity, because that’s the path of least resistance and it’s what most people are doing.

Whatever path we take, we will encounter some form of embarrassment.

To be completely honest, the TEDx talk didn’t go as I’d planned.

I stumbled on my words, and there was about 30 seconds where I completely froze. The only thoughts going through my head were:

“Don’t throw up.”
“Don’t faint.”
“Don’t faint and throw up.”

Reflecting on it now, I hadn’t prepared as much as I should have. I should have been able to recite it word for word through muscle memory. With a few weeks’ notice, I should have taken it more seriously.

But something that reassured me afterwards was that someone came up to me and said the hesitation actually made it feel more human and relatable. Another speaker told me that the actual content of what I was saying was really inspiring.

What I took away from it was this:

It was terrifying. But it was also an amazing thing to even get the chance to do.

My mentality going into it was simple.

I will regret not doing this far more than I will regret doing it and making a fool of myself.

And that’s often the real choice we’re facing.

We tell ourselves that if we don’t do the thing, then we have nothing to lose. We can just stay home, stay safe, stay comfortable.

But what we’re really doing is quietly paying the introvert tax again.

How I overcame the fear of being seen

Posting a talking video online was something I never thought I would do.

So what actually got me to start posting content, to go on panels and talks, when I believed the way I was had already been “set in stone”?

Honestly, it started by accidentally tricking myself.

My logic with starting TikTok was that I assumed people I knew in real life wouldn’t see it.

The FYP and algorithm create a strange psychological effect. Even if a video gets 50k views, it still just feels like a number on a screen. It doesn’t feel like 50,000 real people watching you.

I’m not saying that’s the healthiest mindset, but that’s genuinely how I thought about it at the start.

So I treated it like a game.

A code to crack.

Every post was a chance to improve and understand how it worked. The game was free. It didn’t require leaving the house, signing up for a course, or massively putting myself out of my comfort zone.

It just felt like a digital diary.

A place to talk about a subject I’d never really been able to share with people in person.

And what happened next genuinely changed the course of my life.

The opportunities that come from putting yourself out there

For me, it’s led to getting paid my yearly salary in one month, going on brand trips, receiving PR, and being invited to cool events.

But more importantly than any of that, it gave me a way to make money on my own terms.

No micromanagement.

No waiting for permission.

I genuinely never thought I would be able to make my own independent living at 25. I assumed starting my own business would happen in my 40s, if it happened at all.

Putting myself out there accelerated that timeline in a way I never expected.

And this isn’t just about social media.

Even if you’re building a traditional business, you will still need the confidence to pitch yourself to investors, meet agencies, entertain clients, and network with people you’ve never met before.

Visibility is a skill.

And like any skill, it can be learned.

Actionable steps you can implement today

Write one LinkedIn post about a recent event, project, idea, or opinion.
Before you say, “Well nothing worthy of writing about has happened lately,” I don’t care. It could be an opinion, a lesson, an observation. Visibility is everything. If you can’t bring yourself to talk on TikTok yet, pick a safer, more traditional medium and get your ideas public.

Create one page that you are going to be consistent with.
Don’t treat it as being an influencer. Treat it as a work diary. And when I say work, I mean your life’s work. The real problems you’ve solved in your own life. You don’t necessarily even have to talk. It could be written in blog format.

When you’re next in public, make an effort to make small talk with a stranger.
I know this feels odd in London. People here are slightly less open to random conversations. But it could be as simple as when you get your daily coffee, actually asking the barista how their day really was.
We think small talk doesn’t mean anything, but it’s often the first step to connection. And sometimes that small moment means more to someone else than you realise.

Film yourself talking for one minute.
Yes, it will probably feel cringe. But it can be incredibly useful. You don’t even have to post it anywhere. It’s just practice. Notice how often you say filler words. Observe your delivery. Don’t judge yourself too harshly.

Write down five social traits you like about yourself.
Maybe you give great compliments.
Maybe you always remember people’s names.
Maybe you remember small details about people’s lives.

A strange thing about confidence is that it rarely arrives before you do the thing that requires it.

Most of the time, it shows up afterwards.

You do the uncomfortable thing. You post the video. You say the opinion out loud. You go to the event even though you feel slightly awkward the entire time. And then later you realise… nothing catastrophic happened. In fact, something good usually does.

The truth is that putting yourself out there doesn’t suddenly turn you into a different person. I’m still someone who needs quiet time to recharge. I still overthink things. I still feel nervous before speaking on a stage or posting something slightly controversial online.

But the difference now is that I don’t let those feelings make the decision for me.

Because the real risk isn’t embarrassment. The real risk is staying invisible.

When you think about it long term, the opportunities in life almost always go to the people who are willing to be slightly uncomfortable in public. The ones willing to say something first, try something first, raise their hand first.

So if you’ve been sitting on an idea, a project, a piece of writing, a business, or even just an opinion you’ve been too nervous to share, consider this your gentle push.

The world doesn’t need you to be the loudest person in the room.

But it does need you to stop paying the introvert tax.

Quick catch up: what a hectic but fun few weeks I’ve had. From going on the Matt Allwright show on Channel 5 on live TV, doing a TEDx talk at the University of Manchester, having a gifted stay at the Four Seasons Hampshire, and going to a brand event with Female Invest. It’s safe to say it’s been pretty tiring, but I couldn’t be more grateful.

I hope you’ll be able to forgive me for dropping the frequency of paid-only content recently. After April rolls around, I will have a LOT more capacity to be making complimentary guides, goodies, and extra resources again, which I’m really excited about.

That’s all this week,

Lately I’ve been thinking about how our culture of instant gratification has quietly created the attitude that “my future self will just figure it out.”

Here’s why investing is actually one of the biggest forms of self-love.

Because “future you” is still you.

In this issue

• Why future you deserves financial security
• The investing mistake I made at 18
• Why starting early matters (but isn’t everything)
• Five different paths to the same wealth goal
• What a “work-optional” life could actually look like

In our late teens and early 20s, we often feel immortal. The idea of a fine line or joint pain feels like a faraway land. We often forget that everything we do now sets up the framework for our 30s, 40s, and later in life.

Of course things change. We pivot. But if you are reading this and you’re between the ages of 18–25, this matters more.

I remember the film The Substance perfectly encapsulating this idea that what we do now, the habits we build, affect our older self. We just sometimes don’t see the effects for decades.

In this body horror film, the protagonist gets this injectable drug (reminiscent of current over-the-counter Ozempic) which brings youth back to a faded TV star. The trade-off is she must follow almost a Cinderella-like routine of switching bodies at certain times, or else “the spell wears off.” But because it is more sinister than Cinderella, it causes permanent damage in real time to the older body.

Although the film touches more on beauty as a concept and ageing, I thought it applied nicely to finance (said no one ever haha).

When people say, “Why are you investing so much now? Live a little. What if you don’t make it to 40?”

To start, 40 is still young in my eyes. Just like in that film, I could either think like the protagonist and believe life is for being glamorous when you’re young, and that my older self can live like a depressed hermit, or I can think that my older self is going to be just as beautiful and glamorous.

Gone are the days when women are supposed to “expire.” Of course, I know I’m writing this in my 20s, but I see so many successful, beautiful women in their 40s and I refuse to see that as old. And therefore the 40-year-old version of me still deserves wealth and optionality (plus, the time will fly by anyway!)

Statistically I will likely live to that age. If it is almost inevitably going to happen anyway, why not plan for it?

We study for a law degree for years before ever becoming a solicitor.
We train for marathons months before race day.
We save deposits for homes we might not buy for five or ten years.
We spend years building careers before reaching senior roles.

Investing financially is simply another version of the same idea.

Conversely, many of our everyday habits quietly pass the bill to the person we will become.

By swiping a credit card or using buy now, pay later without a clear plan to pay it off in time, we are essentially saying to our future self, “This is on you.”

It is an easy trap to fall into. These systems are designed that way. Most checkout pages now default to instalments, encouraging us to spread the cost without really thinking about the total. Add to that the fact that we carry a shopping centre in our pockets. Every time we unlock our phone to send a text, we are also one tap away from the “new in” section.

The result is that restraint can start to feel strange. Being thoughtful with money, or even using the dreaded word frugal, begins to look almost countercultural. In a culture built on instant access and constant upgrades, choosing to pause, plan, or wait can easily be mistaken for deprivation.

But this isn’t just about overspending or buying nothing. This is about smart planning around time horizon.

The mistake I made when I first started investing

One of my mistakes when I first got into investing was treating it like a side hustle or a get-rich-quick scheme.

When I first learned about stocks at 18, I was completely in the dark. I learned from the boys at university, so obviously it wasn’t the best influence because they were all talking about hyped stocks rather than long-term investing.

Looking back, it makes perfect sense. At 18, you’re not really thinking about the 40-year-old version of yourself. You’re thinking about the next week.

That seemed so much more alluring. The idea that you could get a quick return and it could actually make a meaningful difference in your life now.

But the truth is it rarely works out like that.

What I realised later on is that the real advantage in investing comes from thinking long term. Consistently investing in boring things like index funds doesn’t feel exciting in the moment, but it quietly compounds over decades.

If you can reach that realisation earlier, even at 25 or 30, your future self will thank you. Because the moment you start thinking in decades instead of months, you immediately get ahead of most people who are chasing quick wins.

The people who build wealth are the ones quietly playing the long game.

What do you have to sacrifice in order to get there

So we often think we have to give up all fun and frivolity to reach work optionality, but that doesn’t have to be the case.

The best part about Frugal Chic is that it isn’t about buying nothing, it’s about buying cleverly.

Cutting out what doesn’t serve you and redirecting those funds into what fills your cup.

For example:

Cutting out:

• A flattering polyester top that cost £10 in a sale but then pilled after one wash

• That extra streaming subscription you totally forgot about

• PMS spending, angrily scouring the new-in section at Reformation, walking out with a £200 jacket you won’t wear

• Obligatory brunch “catch-ups” with that friend you’re not 100% sure about

• Unconsciously buying a sugary cinnamon roll every day with your coffee that you low-key find too sweet anyway

Splurging on:

• The course that will take your earning potential from £30k to £40k

• That social event with your ride-or-die friends

• Healthy food that energises you

• That trip of a lifetime you’ll always remember

• Books that expand your thinking and inspire you

The point isn’t deprivation. It’s discernment.

When you start paying attention to where your money actually goes, you realise that many of the things draining your bank account aren’t the things that genuinely improve your life. They are habits, impulses, or quiet social expectations.

Frugal Chic is simply about redirecting those resources with intention.

How to balance future planning with being present

If you want to set your future self up for wealth without feeling like you are depriving your current self, it’s all about intentional management and time horizon.

Money behaves very differently depending on when you start. The earlier you start, the quicker it accelerates.

The below is theoretical. Past performance does not indicate future performance. Capital is at risk. This is not financial advice.

Scenario 1

You start at 18 with small amounts, say £50 a month.

Because you started early, time does most of the heavy lifting. Decades of compounding turn small, consistent contributions into a large portfolio. The key advantage is simply starting early.

Scenario 2

You start at 25 once your income stabilises.

Instead of £50, you invest around £200 a month. You missed a few early compounding years, but higher contributions help close the gap while you still benefit from long-term growth.

Scenario 3

You start at 30 after focusing on career progression.

Now you invest £500 a month. With less time for compounding, the strategy relies more on higher contributions and consistency.

Scenario 4

You start at 40 after major life expenses like housing or family.

At this stage you might invest £1,000 or more per month. There is far less time for compound growth, so the plan depends heavily on income and larger contributions.

Scenario 5

You do not have spare money yet.

If your income is tight or you are dealing with debt or high living costs, the priority is building financial capacity first. That might mean increasing income, reducing structural expenses, clearing high-interest debt, and building a small emergency buffer.

The most important thing is not to feel discouraged. Although investing can feel like it is only for rich people, you do need to be financially stable and have money to invest, but the maths tells us that this doesn’t have to be as much as you think it does, especially if you are starting young.

A work-optional future

But what are we actually working towards?

What are we saving and investing for?

Without a clear goal, it can feel like it’s just for a rainy day or simply “the sensible thing to do.” To me, that is not a strong enough reason. That is not what builds a six-figure portfolio.

What builds a six-figure portfolio is drive. The desire to reach work optionality. The desire to have more freedom.

Let’s be honest. The people who want to live a lavish lifestyle aren’t usually the ones aggressively investing.

You have to understand the basic principle of buying back your time.

So let’s paint a picture.

Picture this.

You wake up in a room that feels light and uncluttered. The sheets are soft, quality linen you saved up for, knowing they’d last for years.

You brew coffee at home, not because you can’t afford Starbucks, but because you enjoy the ritual. You’ve perfected it. The right grind, the right temperature, the exact amount of milk.

You head out in second-hand jeans that fit perfectly, a cashmere jumper you invested in three years ago, and loafers that will last a decade because you’ve already had them resoled once.

You carry yourself differently because you know you’re not dressing for Instagram. You’re dressing for you. These pieces tell a story. They’re not just clothes. They’re choices.

You work, not for survival but for growth. You invest. You write. You create. You’re building leverage slowly.

Dinner isn’t another Deliveroo order. It’s a nutritious meal made with whole foods, cooked simply, with a glass of wine if you fancy it, maybe shared with someone you love. The ingredients cost less than takeaway would have, but the experience feels infinitely richer.

This is not deprivation.

This is wealth hidden in plain sight.

This is the future I’m working towards. Slow, no obligation, pure optionality. Working for myself, working on things that I’m passionate about, having the time to live a healthy, safe, and balanced lifestyle.

To me, that is real wealth.

And I’m hoping I can set my 40-year-old self up for it.

I also don’t mean to exclude anyone by age by writing this. You might be reading this in your 40s. The same principles still apply. You just shift the decades.

We all have regrets, including myself. There are things I could have done better to optimise where I am now. I could have got here quicker or had higher returns.

But it’s best not to dwell on the past and instead focus on what we can do moving forward.

That’s why investing in yourself and your future is just as important as the retinol eye cream or the LED mask.

In the same way we safeguard our skin, we should safeguard our finances.

Because when you approach money this way, you’re saying to your future self:

You are just as important and worthy of love and abundance as my current self.

That’s all this week,