Had you met me in high school, or university, or when I lived in that pretty apartment in Toronto with all my sky high heels and fabulous outfits, I’d assume you would have described me as a lady who liked her things.

Pretty, expensive, fabulous things. 

And I did.

I don’t think I’ve ever been extremely materialistic, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have an extra swagger in my step when I had bought new outfits, my Burberry jacket, or heels that cost four figures (what the what? seriously Old Liz. Seriously).

And then I left home.

And then I had to pick n’ choose and decide what to bring. It was hard. Really, really hard. But somehow I figured it out. And then somehow, well I suppose I know how, from traveling, and moving around constantly, and seeing extreme poverty & how things have no correlation to one’s happiness, and better understanding the person I am and what makes me happy, I learnt (or by default, was forced), to let go of that ‘I feel better about myself because I own ______’ feeling I once got.

I’m not saying I don’t still like fabulous, pretty, new things (see below, I do), but I also without a doubt know I could be stripped to the bare minimum in life and still be quite content. Like, if my suitcases were lost forever, I don’t (with the except of my marathon medals) think I would really care).

It’s a nice feeling. A nice feeling knowing material things mean absolutely nothing to you.

And on that note, this is my room (one becomes quite organized when they move around a lot). It’s not glamorous, or fancy, or anything like that, but I really, really like this little space in Melbourne I get to call home.

(Yes, that is a Tumblr tote on the back of my door. They sent it to me for my awesomeness (ha… actually as an apology for not putting me on the spotlight sooner. Nice folks those Tumblr people are)

(I brought so many silly things with me from Toronto. I’ve hardly worn any of this stuff!)

I go through a lot of hair ties and yes, I swear by Dior makeup (Fun fact: At home Dior eye shadow is $52. In Melbourne it’s $110)

(There’s a whole other half to my room, but as my bed is unmade, and hair needs to be dried, I’ll leave that for another day).