Smart girls let go.

A lesson on release. Featuring SZA, a broken toe, and the Too Collective robe send-off sale (50% off!)

Too Collective Robes: 2022-2025. What a ride! Shop here.

“Gotta break it if you want it to grow
Had to build everything twice over
Don’t tell me ‘cause I know

Let go, let go”

— SZA, No More Hiding

Around 3 am on a Saturday in May, I broke my left pinky toe at SPACE Miami in my favorite nude strappy sandals. Don’t ask how.

Since then, I’ve been in a slow, quiet kind of pain. The kind that you can still walk on, so you convince yourself it’s fine — until one day you slip on a pair of perfect pointed-toe heels (the Amina Muaddi ones I found for $20 on final sale at Consignment Brooklyn this weekend — God’s favorite material girl!!!!) and suddenly remember: oh right. I never actually healed this.

Pain lingers until you listen.

Our bodies send us pain signals the same way our intuition does. Some pains — the sharp, dramatic ones — get our attention right away.

Others smolder under the surface until the smallest pressure reminds you they’re still there, and until you get AN X-RAY it together, they’re only going to get worse.

That slow burn? That constant irritation you can’t quite name? It’s feedback. It’s your smarter self whispering: something needs to change.

machine or martyr

My problem is that I have two default modes:

Machine — who moves fast, gets more done in a week than most people in a year, cuts people off cleanly, and never rests (Aries Rising, u get it.)

Or Martyr — the procrastinator-people-pleaser who says yes to everything because she hates letting anyone down.

That combination is brutal. Because when I truly care, I stay too long. (Mars in Libra. lol.) In relationships. In thought patterns. In friendships.

In situations that look fine from the outside but quietly drain me, one “small” compromise at a time.

I convince myself I can fix everything — that if I just give more, work harder, explain better, it’ll all balance out. I end up making excuses for other people and for myself, even when I know something’s wrong. A survival mechanism disguised as loyalty.

Holding on like that has a cost. You don’t feel it right away, but eventually, it’s like that broken toe — what started as a small ache becomes an injury that keeps you from walking into your next chapter.

no more hiding

Statistically, though, the most abundant times of my life always started with pure terror.

When I left my first “prestigious” job earlier than I was technically “allowed” to (rules aren’t real, btw), I ended up in my dream job at YouTube.

When I mustered up the courage to abandon that stability to get my MBA and focus on Too Collective, we were featured on GMA3, got the Rare Beauty deal, and I had my first six-figure quarter as an influencer.

Even every faded friendship created room for a new, fabulous soul connection. (oh and, it’s not lonely when you let go, your connections are just MUCH deeper!)

Not to mention — every time I’ve ended a relationship or even an entanglement, I’ve met someone better — closer to what I actually desire.

You know that saying never let your boyfriend keep you from finding your husband? It’s a bit gauche, sure, but it’s practical advice: if there’s nowhere for your blessings to land, they can’t find you.

intentional ambition

In ushering Too Collective (and myself) into a grown-woman era — I’m realizing how much I’ve been clinging to the things that once worked.

The old mindsets: I have to do more to get more. Creativity isn’t enough.

The old metrics: Follower count equals relevance. (I LITERALLY knew that wasn’t true, but that didn’t stop me from obsessing over the numbers.)

The old story: I’m a young girl trying to figure it out.

No. I’ve been becoming the woman my 14-year-old self dreamed of. Against the odds, through a million reinventions, with side plots that deserve a Bravo series.

Every time I take in the skyline crossing over the Manhattan Bridge — often sporting high heels to delicious girl dinners and glamorous brand events — as a published author, entrepreneur, and well-educated independent single (!!!) woman, I realize I’ve done most of what that eager teenager longed to do.

Creating a career, a world, a life — for enjoyment, not survival — is a privilege.

And if I’m being honest, I still have moments when I don’t fully believe I’ve earned it.

But earlier this summer, one of you DMed me on a day I was quietly spiraling about my future.I had just answered in a Q&A that I was planning to work for myself after Wharton, and she wrote:

“It’s nice to see you not play small.”

Immediately tears. It was one of those comments that hits harder than you expect — like, oh right, I’ve been the only one doubting me! Following my dreams means something, not just to me, but to others!!!

I don’t call myself ambitious for no reason — but I’m learning that ambition isn’t about doing everything faster. It’s about trusting yourself enough to let go of what’s slowing you down so you can get to where you truly want to go.

Which brings me to the robes.

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the release

Mindset shifts are cute until you realize there’s something physical you’re still holding onto for dear life.

And the universe, of course, immediately gave me a test.

I’ve been clinging to my babies: Too Collective robes.

When I started Too Collective, the robes were my pride and joy — innovative, beautifully made, and truly ahead of their time.

They were a wearable hug; soft, intentional, and beloved by thousands of you who still reach out to tell me how much you love them.

I created them completely from scratch, bringing together everyone from friends that I begged to model for me, family that ran fulfillment out of their St. Louis garages for years, fellow creators that shared selfies without expectation, ultimately leading us to billion-dollar brand collaborators and thousands of customers. They became part of your lives, too!

I announced last year that I was done with the business, with the intention to focus on content at the advice of my seasoned Wharton advisors.

But since, I’ve honestly struggled to introduce myself without bringing them up. Then a few quiet partnership requests came in, and I said yes — because that’s who I am. I told myself I’d hold on to a few hundred units just in case something came up.

And so, they sat. Neatly folded in storage, taking up space — both literally and in my mind.

We all know the truth: I really wanted to, I could make the robe business something bigger. But it’s just not my zone of genius. It’s not where my best energy lives anymore.

I thought about Diarrha N’Diaye-Mbaye’s bravery when she shared her decision to close Ami Colé — how honest and grounded she was about the reality that even good things sometimes need to end.

Sometimes, the best (and dare I say, bravest) thing you can do as a creative or founder is admit that you’ve evolved. The thing you built did exactly what it was meant to do, and now it’s time to build something else.

Those robes were the beginning of my story. They gave us this community, this platform, and a tangible way to help ambitious women remember their softness.

But this WHOLE TIME, they could’ve been with you — keeping you warm on crisp fall mornings, wrapped around you while you sip your coffee, like mine is doing for me right now.

Instead, they’ve been boxed up, waiting for me to finally admit it’s time to let go.

So this week, I am.

Every remaining robe is 50% off — the lowest they’ll ever be, and the last time they’ll ever be sold.

This isn’t so much a sale as it is a send-off.

Because I know what happens when you make space: the next chapter always rushes in.

And for me, that next chapter — the one fully in my zone of genius — is already here.

Because as our fellow ambitious material girl SZA said:

You gotta break it if you want it to grow.

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release is a portal

What if discomfort is just your body’s way of saying there’s something better waiting once you let go?

Maybe for you, it’s not a business. Maybe it’s a friendship that drains you, a job that doesn’t excite you, or an habit that no longer fits.

Whatever it is, I hope this season gives you the courage to set it down.

Because every time I’ve finally released something, something A MILLION times better has come in.

Let this be your reminder: healing isn’t always about working harder. It’s about making space. (And yes — urgent care appointments for your broken toe.)

When the podcast returns, I hope you’ll hear the same thing I’m learning to feel: that peace isn’t passive — it’s earned, one release at a time.

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The robes are live now — 50% off, final drop.

[Shop the last collection →]

xx

Alexis

Alexis Barber is a lifestyle creator and writer based in Brooklyn, NY. She’s the author of Too Smart For This, a guided journal for ambitious women. Support her work by following along on socials, subscribing, purchasing the book here, or reaching out for consulting on the creator economy and consumer brands at hello@alexisbarber.com.