Fashion has always been a part of my DNA. From an early age, I remember going into my mother’s closet to borrow clothes and put pieces together. The eccentricity of my style choices allowed me to express who I wanted to be in the world.

Fashion is an art form that reflects a person’s character. Each outfit is unique and can convey who you are or who you wish to be. My affinity for fashion was not limited to just putting clothes together; it was a holistic participation that encompassed all aspects of the industry – the models, the designers, the fashion shows, the styling, the scene. Everything felt so perfectly curated and exclusive that only a few, if lucky, could be a part of this ecosystem of aesthetic beauty. You could say I was in love with this world, often praying that one day I could be a part of it.

In the summer of 2020, I moved to Berlin for multiple reasons, but the most significant was to pursue a modeling career. Having been scouted, I saw Berlin as a springboard to catapult me into the world I had idealized from an early age.

At the beginning of my career, everything was intoxicating—being on elaborate sets, adorned with clothes worth double my rent, people wanting to know me, drawn to me for my beauty and my style. It was the realization of my 16-year-old dream coming to life. Throughout my life, I had always felt on the periphery of this world, never believing that someone like me could be granted access. I went from watching fashion shows to being seated in the front row at them.

Everything about my life changed. I went from total anonymity to being part of a scene where everyone looked beautiful, curated, and expensive. I was befriended by the right people, and my association with them made me important, someone to know. I was invited to all the exclusive events, private dinners, shows, and openings. As my social currency rose by being a part of this world, I started to become the quintessential girl surrounded by people whose personalities were directly linked to how well they dressed.

I found myself attending events and only speaking about superficial things like who someone was wearing or who they were dating, only entertaining people who fit the persona I was now playing and the world I was now in. Everything felt staged and performative, but I could not recognize how insufferable I was slowly starting to become, and my circle only reinforced this. While there were one or two deep connections, every relationship was predicated on opportunism and collective thought. Most relationships were soured by endless gossip and meanness brushed off as cachet. You were only worth something to people if they could somehow benefit from you by association, if you could afford them the means to rise the ranks of the social caste system that carried the industry.

You could not criticize anything that did not adhere to the unwritten social contract you signed by entering this space. I found myself engaging with this space in a way that felt nefarious. I joined in on the salacious rumors about people’s lives, constantly trying to be perfect or turning my nose up at people who did not offer me anything. I sought external validation from a space that only liked me because I was beautiful and hung out with the right people.

My observations became unavoidable. I slowly found myself going to events and becoming disengaged from everything around me because it all felt redundant. I was having the same conversations, experiencing the same things, and always feeling the pressure to perform. I would attend events, and no one would talk to each other outside of the people they knew. Oftentimes, it was just to take a photo or document the moments. Don’t get me wrong – I am not judging, as I did the same – but I was growing weary of this. This world I had idolized for so long was starting to feel emotionally draining.

My departure from fashion happened last year, prompted by health issues. I found myself alone in the face of adversity, with support from only one friend in this space. There was no support, no community. I realized that the community in this space was a fallacy, based on people who looked good standing next to one another.

I was forced to take my health seriously, and in doing so, I saw how all of this became unimportant—the clothes, the events, the dinners, the shows. As I prioritize my health, many of my friendships withered because this episode in my life required me to look at what was truly important. I could no longer play a part. I could no longer be half of a person. That world was no longer a priority; it was a liability.

While I am still a part of the world, I am once again on the fringes of it—a conscious choice. I now spend most evenings in the solace of my home or at the gym, rejecting invites or simply not attending. I suppose that I am lucky to have lived out a former dream and come to accept that it was not for me. I enjoyed the journey, but it also taught me that in life, we can change – and we should. We can dream up new dreams, and we must in order to experience the vastness of the world and ourselves.

Chiderah Sunny is a Nigerian born-Canadian writer, founder, and model based in Berlin. She explores pop culture through an intersectional lens, often using her own personal experiences to examine the world around her.