Styled by McKenz Turns Seven

Do you believe in lucky numbers? Or angel numbers? I wasn’t sure I did—that is, until this year. My whole life I’ve been a planner. There’s something about knowing what to expect before actually doing it that has always made me feel a little better. A little more in control. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I tried to plan for 2022, I just couldn’t.

I knew 2022 was going to be an incredibly pivotal year for me, whether I liked it or not. Each life change seemed bigger than the last, more daunting. Finish up my last semester in Kent, move to California for my summer internship, study abroad in Italy, graduate from Kent State—the entire year I thought to myself, once I get through this season of life, once I really live in these moments, only then can I close this door and open the next. One thing at a time.

There was so much going on. Too much to plan for all at once. And so for the first time in my life, I didn’t plan I just lived.

And to my surprise, the world did not end when there was no plan at hand—in fact, week after week I found myself thinking I am exactly where I am supposed to be right now.

In January I spent most of my time wondering how Styled by would pivot with me throughout these life changes, wondering if it were even possible at all. It seemed like a given that my passion project, my job, would have to take the back burner at some point to make room for these other things at hand. I worried a lot about this. I worried about how I would make money, I worried what my followers would think if I scaled back, and I worried how I would feel if I failed.

But people kept reminding me, this was year seven, lucky number seven. Seven was never my lucky number, it was my Dad’s.

As you know from my continued posts, my world didn’t come crumbling down in 2022. Styled by didn’t just disappear into thin air the way I feared it might. It pivoted, and I adapted, making changes according to life’s ebbs and flows. I survived! And to my surprise, I succeeded—more than ever before.

I smiled the widest I ever have during my last weeks in my little college town and cried harder than I ever have as I said goodbye to the home I built there. I moved to California and felt more creatively energized than ever before, taking huge strides in my career and wearing more swimsuits than I ever knew possible. I studied abroad in Florence with my two very best friends, seeing twelve countries in just fifteen weeks. I caught planes, trains, and buses. We swam, we hiked, we boated, and we ate until our pants hardly zipped. I had the time of my life. I felt a love so big it ached my bones. My circle was small, but it’s never felt so full.

I will be the first to admit, adjusting to living in a different country was not easy. It takes some time to get comfortable with the idea of being uncomfortable. No air conditioning, no free water, and no free bathrooms. Language barriers, new currencies, and culture shocks—they take a second to get used to.

Within my first few weeks of living in Italy, I kept seeing the number 28 everywhere. I was never one to believe in “angel” numbers, but I couldn’t shake how often I was seeing it. Every time I’d look at the clock, I swore it’d be the 28th minute. My receipts would total 28, my ticket stubs place me 28th in line, and my train seats put me in the 28th seat. I swore I’d see it unironically at least ten times a day. Even my roommates were starting to notice how often the number presented itself.

I decided to look up what it meant to keep seeing this number and this is what I read:

“The number 28 can be interpreted as a message asking you to believe in yourself, have confidence in your abilities, and remain optimistic through challenging times. 

Have patience for you are first in line to be rewarded by the universe. As you achieve wealth, success, and prosperity, remember to be grateful for your blessings and help the people around you. 

Additionally the number 28 is about the importance of building connections and bonds with loved ones. Did you miss lots of important family dinners because you’ve been busy for a long time? Number 28 is a reminder to spare some time for yourself, loved ones, and the needy. 

Don’t immerse yourself in your work to the point of burnout.”

It shocked me. I still wasn’t sure if I believed in numbers having meaning, but if they did, this made it hard to ignore. I mean, it’s as if all of my thoughts were written on paper right in front of me. It felt like the stars aligning. It felt like a sign. And in those first few weeks, I was so uncomfortable with the change that I was desperate to take comfort in something, anything, and so I did.

With each passing week, things came to fruition. Brand deal after brand deal, viral post after viral post, hotel collab after hotel collab. I was plugging and chugging, working with the same effort I always have, changing my ways ever so slightly to adapt to this new season of life. It worked better than I ever could have imagined and I was creating content I was truly proud of. I kept seeing the number and each time I’d smile to myself, knowing that maybe something, maybe someone somewhere was trying to remind me that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

About ten weeks into my study abroad semester, I took a day trip to Prato, Italy, and the entire day I had this indescribable feeling. An overwhelming sensation that I was right where I was supposed to be; like everything was happening for a reason. Cheesy, I know.

The next morning was a Saturday and we woke up with plans to day trip to Rome. Jess asked me if I was excited and I looked at her and said—you know, I think I might be the luckiest girl in the world. She giggled, knowing that I must still be riding yesterday’s high into today. But she also nodded; I think she believed me.

We started our morning at the Trevi Fountain throwing three coins over our shoulders, wishing to return to Italy someday. From there we walked over to the Pantheon and I was captivated. I spent so much time studying this architecture in high school; I was dying to go in, and so were my two friends. I walked over to the lady at the ticket booth and asked if we could get in. “Unfortunately, reservations must be made several days in advance,” she said.

As I was relaying the message to the girls, a woman in her mid-sixties walked over to us, excusing herself, and asking if we might be interested in touring the Pantheon today. Three people did not show up for her group tour. We looked at each other like holy shit, this must be a sign. Of course, we wanted to go! So she hurried us along, explaining the tour had already begun and that we needed to get inside. Jess and I were giddy, no way that just happened. 

We were handed one of those old-school group tour headsets, with the wire attached to the little walkie-talkie. As I tuned it to the correct station and joined the group, the guide came through the speaker loud and clear, “this entire building is based on the number 28, it’s the foundation of many Roman works of art.” I gasped. Jess gasped. We turned to each other, jumping, in disbelief, hands over our mouths. She knew exactly what that meant to me.

The only way I know how to describe that moment is to say it felt like something shocked me. I knew God had touched me throughout this special time in my life, but that day, in that exact moment, it felt like him moving through me. From the ground up. It was the most out of body feeling.

When we left I told Jess I didn’t think I was the luckiest girl in the world anymore. I just knew I was. For the rest of the semester, it became our running joke, a constant phrase tossed around.

But it wasn’t really a joke—the secret to having it all is knowing you already do.

As I sit here today writing this post, I’m having one of those ah-hah moments as I realize maybe seven was my lucky number after all. Year seven was the year I realized I was the luckiest girl in the world, that I had everything right in front of me. I had the support, the passion, the love. A recipe destined for success!

I realized this year that my lives don’t have to be so separate—I’ve spent most of my seven years feeling like I’m living a double life, trying to juggle Styled by McKenz with the rest of it. It wasn’t until this year that I realized maybe I didn’t have to be Hannah Montana, I could just be Miley. Maybe I wasn’t living two lives after all, maybe this just was my life.

How lucky am I? To wake up every day living the dream.

I recognize that some people go their entire life without getting to say the same which is why I want to say thank you. Thank you, truly, from the very bottom of my heart, for flipping my world upside down. Thank you for believing in me, for letting me dream with my eyes wide open, and for giving me the freedom to be whoever I want to be.

Thank you fourteen-year-old McKenz for having the courage to hit publish on that very first blog post seven years ago today. I am a better me because of you.

I can’t wait to see what year eight has in store—I have no doubt that my first year of pursuing Styled by McKenz full-time will be one hell of a ride. No more double life, no more balancing school with Styled by. Just me living the dream. As so many of you have reminded me in your graduation salutations, if I love what I do, I’ll never work a day in my life. This is usually where I’d write let’s get to work, but I suppose that year I should just say let’s get to living.

Cheers to seven years of burning with passion. Cheers to many failures but even more successes. Cheers to the best damn support system in the world. Cheers to new beginnings. Cheers to you, Styled by— cheers to us.

I am everything I am because of you.

All my love, McKenz

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