Recovering perfectionist? Hi, yes, me too. Welcome, you’re in the right place. I’ll go first. Hi, my name is Micki and I’m a recovering perfectionist.

The lingerie category is known for gorgeous materials like lace, mesh, power mesh, satin, silk, charmeuse, chiffon. While they are beautiful, they come with some nasty truths. 

Most of these, with the exception of silk, are petroleum-based. They come from fossil fuels, making them essentially plastic.

It’s the shift in posture that comes from stepping into a well-fitting set. The calm that sets in, knowing you can get dressed with ease, and move on to what really matters. Walking down the street feeling fully embodied as your truest self. It’s knowing you’re wearing something considered, something chosen, something entirely yours. It’s a secret, just for you.

I woke up Friday morning, exhausted. I’d been sleeping poorly all week. Every night, despite feeling sluggish all day, the moment my head hit the pillow, I was wired — my to-do list racing through my head and the stressors of all the “what-ifs” tugging at my mind.

Lately I feel like I’m staving off burnout. By day, I work as a fractional sustainability advisor — supporting multiple brands and organizations in their sustainability strategy and implementation (requiring a sufficient amount of task switching/mental modes, which can be exhausting) — and by mornings, nights, and weekends I work on development for my natural fiber lingerie brand, Petal + Ash.

My talk, The Closest Thing to Your Skin, is now live and its timing feels perfectly aligned with Earth Month.

I invite you to watch the 6.5 minute talk where I share my journey from professional dancer to sustainability entrepreneur, and why what you wear underneath everything deserves more consideration.

Building a brand is a marathon, definitely not a sprint.

When I zoom out and consider where I am with Petal + Ash, it’s the timeline that feels wild. The space between the idea that is now Petal + Ash? Six years.

What clothing labels can’t tell you about what you wear closest to your skin.

Many of us think about microplastics as something ‘out there’ — in our oceans, in fish, and perhaps in bottled water after it has sat out in the sun. We’re only just beginning to consider microplastics as something that might be resting against our skin.

On movement, the body, and the garments that bring us home to ourselves.

Home is a strange concept. How do we define it, collectively? Is it the house you reside in, the city you grew up in, the person you share your life with, or something else entirely? Lately, I’ve been wondering: what if ‘home’ is less somewhere you arrive, but somewhere you’ve been all along?