Who Does She Think She Is?
NAPERVILLE - WHEATON - GLEN ELLYN - ELMHURST - GENEVA - ST. CHARLES - BARRINGTON - BARTLETT PHOTOGRAPHER
Echoes of Time: Lost in History by Alicia Staley Johnson
An Chorr-Teernakill South, Ireland
Hello, friends, This week has felt like construction — in the most beautiful sense of the word. On the home front, our kitchen is mid-transformation. Tile samples lined up like paint swatches of possibility. Brass lighting decisions. Range hood sketches. Grout debates that feel oddly monumental. The kind of details that shape how a room will feel for years to come. It’s dusty and exciting and slightly chaotic. On the business front, it’s been headshots and fresh beginnings. New faces stepping into new seasons. Reinvention. Courage. Visibility. And then Friday unfolded into something bigger. We rented our studio for its first full commercial production — Park Lane Jewelry — and suddenly the quiet space Dan built by hand was filled with movement and energy. Models flew in from Los Angeles. Videographers came from Arizona. Photographers from out of state. Racks of jewelry. Monitors glowing. Cables stretching across the floor. It was a full production. And the studio? It rose to the occasion. Watching it function exactly as we had envisioned — the light pouring in, the layout flowing effortlessly — felt surreal. Almost like watching a dream step into its own maturity. At the end of the day, they told us how much they loved our home and asked if they could use the interior and exterior of our home for future shoots. I don’t know how I feel about that but such a honor either way. That compliment lingered. Because this week wasn’t just about tile and headshots and commercial bookings. It was about building. Sometimes growth looks like dust in the air and cables on the floor. Sometimes it looks like bravery in front of a camera. Sometimes it looks like allowing your world to widen. This week held all of it. And I’m feeling grateful for every layer.
Soft Focus: Who Does She Think She Is?
If I could give one gift to younger women — and to the younger version of myself — it would be this:
The freedom to stop worrying about what other people think.
It has taken me decades to arrive here.
And I didn’t even realize how much space that worry was taking up until it began to fall away.
I have built businesses.
Raised children.
Moved across seasons of life.
Taken risks most people wouldn’t take.
I have never been afraid of hard work.
I have rarely been afraid of failure.
But I have quietly, persistently worried about perception.
How I looked.
How I sounded.
Whether I seemed too ambitious.
Too visible.
Too much.
There’s a subtle difference between fearing failure and fearing foolishness.
Failure feels like data.
Foolishness feels like exposure.
And somewhere in the last year — through menopause, through anxiety, through recalibration, through listening more closely to my body and my heart — I began to understand something.
The people who are truly for me are not whispering, Who does she think she is?
They are saying, Look at her go.
That shift changed everything.
It changed how I think about my business.
About writing my book.
About the direction I want to take my life.
This week, I photographed a woman, somewhere around my age, who is beginning a modeling career. Watching her step into that space without apology felt like looking at the future.
It was bold.
It was brave.
It was free.
And then another client — younger, a mother, full of potential — admitted she didn’t want anyone to know she was having headshots taken to pursue acting.
I could feel the weight of it on her.
When I asked what she was afraid of, she said exactly what I knew she would say.
“I don’t want people to think, ‘Who does she think she is?’”
There it was again.
That question.
And underneath it — the deeper fear.
What if I fail?
We talked about how many people never try. How many dreams stay folded away because of those two fears — judgment and failure.
As she spoke, I could hear my former self in her words.
So I asked her something else.
What would it teach your children if you boldly went after your dreams?
What example would you set for your friends and family if your desires were important enough to pursue?
What gift would you be giving others who are quietly afraid?
As we were speaking, she picked up her phone to take a note.
The time read 11:11.
She looked at me, surprised. “Do you know what that means?”
I do.
11:11 — a moment of alignment.
A nudge from the universe.
A quiet whisper: Pay attention. This matters.
I am not overly mystical, but I do believe this: when something lands on your heart and refuses to leave, it is worth listening to.
And in that moment, I realized something.
The gift I wish I could give her — the gift of not being guided by what others think — is not something we hand to each other.
It’s something we claim.
We decide.
We outgrow the invisible audience in our heads.
We stop rehearsing our dreams for approval.
We accept that some people may misunderstand us — and we go anyway.
The truth is, there will always be someone who misunderstands you. Who thinks you are reaching too far. Who is uncomfortable with your becoming.
But their discomfort is not your assignment.
This past year has been a shedding for me. A peeling back of layers I didn’t even know I was carrying. And beneath it all is a simpler truth:
I would rather be talked about for trying than forgotten for shrinking.
There will always be someone who thinks you’re too much.
Too ambitious.
Too visible.
Too hopeful.
Let them.
The people meant for you will clap.
And if you fail?
At least you lived.
At least you tried.
At least you honored the quiet voice inside that said, There is more for you.
If I could give one gift, it would be that freedom.
But since I can’t hand it to you, I’ll say this instead:
If the dream keeps tugging at you, it’s yours for a reason.
And if someone asks, Who does she think she is?
The answer is simple.
She’s someone who finally stopped asking for permission.
It might be time.
It might be your 11:11 moment.
It might be your season to stop asking for permission.
Run toward your dreams.
The ones who matter will run with you.
Michelle Koral’s modeling headshots— proof that it’s never too late to begin. New dreams. New adventures. No permission required.
WHAT I’M LOVING THIS WEEK
Inspiring Follow: @emthenutritionist
Lately, I’ve been loving the work of Emily English, known on Instagram as @emthenutritionist.
With over 2.1 million followers, she has built a space that feels both practical and inspiring — full of healthy, approachable recipes that actually taste good. Not “healthy for healthy’s sake.” Just genuinely delicious food that happens to nourish you well.
Her cookbook So Good lives up to its name, and she has a new one available for preorder, So Good Express, which focuses on quick, flavorful meals for real life. Because let’s be honest — most of us want food that feels good and fits into busy days.
What I appreciate most is that she doesn’t overcomplicate things. It’s balanced, realistic nutrition from someone who clearly knows her field and has put in the work over the years.
If you’re looking for fresh inspiration in the kitchen — especially as we try to care for our bodies a little better — I highly recommend trying a few of her recipes.
You won’t be disappointed.
What I’m Loving: UKHLXLIGHTLTD Mid Century Handmade Brass Wall Sconce:
If I’m being honest… my brain has been living in our kitchen remodel.
Tile samples.
Grout colors.
Range hoods.
Cabinet details.
Lighting.
Mostly lighting.
I know not everyone wants to hear about grout decisions (although I could absolutely talk about grout until you were bored to tears), so instead I’ll share one small detail that has me completely giddy.
These little brass sconces.
They’ll be flanking our range hood, and the moment I saw them, I knew. That soft globe. The clean lines. The hint of mid-century modern to add that timeless feel. They add that European layer I’m always chasing — warm, sculptural, quietly elegant.
Lighting changes everything. It’s jewelry for a room.
I love mixing classic elements with something slightly unexpected, and these feel like they belong in a Paris apartment kitchen — but also somehow perfectly at home here.
They’ve been ordered. I’m counting down the days until they’re installed.
Sometimes it’s the smallest details that make a space feel intentional.
And right now? I’m completely obsessed.
Local-ish: Café Blessing
There’s a Korean-style café in Schaumburg that has been living rent-free in my mind lately.
I haven’t been yet… but I am absolutely going.
I keep seeing their coffee creations and handmade scones pop up, and every time I do, I think, This is my kind of place.
Matcha cream.
Matcha latte.
Strawberry matcha latte.
Cream top Latte.
Dirty peanut cream latte. Yes Please!
Oh. My. Goodness.
And the scones — in what feels like every flavor imaginable — all handmade and beautifully displayed like little edible works of art.
There’s something about a thoughtfully crafted café. The ritual of it. The creativity. The way a simple drink can feel like a small luxury in the middle of the week.
This is happening. I’m declaring it.
Who wants to join me?
204 E. Golf Rd, Schaumburg
Photo Tip: How to Feel Comfortable in Front of the Camera
This is what I hear most often:
“I’m awkward.”
“I hate being photographed.”
“I don’t know what to do with my hands.”
Here’s the truth: almost everyone feels that way.
Comfort doesn’t come from knowing how to pose. It comes from feeling safe.
A good photographer will guide you — with small adjustments, subtle direction, real conversation. Movement helps. Laughter helps. Breathing helps.
And most importantly, remembering that you don’t have to perform.
You just have to show up.
Some of my favorite headshots happen in the in-between moments — the exhale, the smile that wasn’t forced, the split second when someone forgets to be self-conscious.
That’s when you see the real person.
Modeling • Dance • Acting Headshots
open doors in this industry — and they’re a fun session to create.
Business • Author • Real Estate • Branding
A strong headshot builds trust before you ever say a word. People connect with faces — not logos.
with love and light,
Alicia Staley Johnson
of Alicia’s Photography
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