At the time, I was a professional dancer hustling my way through auditions, rehearsals, and bookings. Like most dancers, I lived in movement — but I also lived for the looks. I wasn’t just walking into auditions to nail the combo; I was showing up in full-on fringe, layered textures, cropped band tees, and anything else I felt expressed the character I wanted to be that day. It wasn’t about fashion trends — it was about feeling the part.
Unintentionally, my outfits became my calling card.
Directors, choreographers, and even fellow dancers started asking, “Where’d you get that?” or “Can you help me put something together for my reel?” It started small: helping a friend find the right look for a callback or reworking a jacket to give it more edge. But eventually, the costume requests got more specific, more frequent, and then...paid.
The real pivot happened on the set of USA Network’s Happy Hour, a celebrity karaoke show where I had been brought on to style dancers. I didn’t know it then, but that gig would open the floodgates. I met celebrities who wanted me to style their appearances, their promo shoots, even their album covers. I went from choreographed routines to call sheets and wardrobe racks almost overnight.
It was thrilling, chaotic, and full of “learn-as-you-go” moments. I didn't have formal training, a fashion mentor, or even a backup plan. What I had was intuition, hustle, and a dancer’s understanding of how clothes move — which turns out, is everything on a shoot.
Because I never came up through the traditional fashion world, I didn’t follow its rules. I wasn’t concerned with designers’ names or seasonal must-haves. I cared about how someone felt when they put something on. Did they light up? Did they stand differently? Did the outfit become them?
That approach — unfiltered, functional, sometimes a little wild — became my signature. I learned how to balance creative vision with production needs. I learned that tape, safety pins, and a sewing kit could fix just about anything. And I learned that being “a stylist” was more than making someone look good — it was making sure they could be who they needed to be in front of a camera, on a stage, or walking into a big moment.
This blog is my way of unpacking all those years: the wins, the wild stories, the mistakes (oh, the mistakes), and the lessons I wish someone had told me back then. Whether you're a new stylist, a performer, or just someone obsessed with clothes, I hope you find these stories useful — or at least entertaining.
Because if I’ve learned anything, it’s that the best careers — like the best outfits — sometimes happen when you’re not trying too hard. When you just show up as yourself, fringe and all.
— Suzie
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