• Since I'm the mother of three boys, I'm the only woman in a crowded house.
• I rarely had space just for myself, so I decided to declutter the attic.
• I turned the attic into my peaceful, feminine sanctuary, reflecting who I am as a woman.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy life as a boy-mom. Having three sons, my days are filled with excited talk of superheroes, villains, and video games. In summertime, epic battles play out in the backyard until dinner. On family movie nights, "Star Wars," "The Hobbit," and "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy run on infinite loops. Life is never boring.

Although the "Boom! Crash!" of their younger years has now shifted to more nuanced language like "Bro! That's sus," I still can't help but feel, as our family of five gathers for meals, that I'm often the odd "man" out.

Their shared spoken code reminds me that I'm the only female at the table, and that I'm fundamentally different in highly important ways.

That's when I realized I needed my own space.

I wanted my own space — away from the boys

These past few years, I've stepped deeper into midlife — when women, often having spent decades as caregivers, ask, "Who am I really?" and "Why don't I feel like myself anymore?"

I longed for a quiet space to explore these questions and others — like "What does it mean to be a woman in today's world?"

My challenge was space. In 2019, wanting a home office/creative space, I transformed an unused room on our second floor. Then the pandemic hit. My husband, who'd always commuted, ended up working remotely for several years. My home office became his workspace.

Since every bedroom was occupied, I set up a desk in the living room. But the central location invited constant interruption: my husband, the boys, the dog, and even the cat who regularly photobombed Zoom calls.

I needed space. Quiet space. Feminine space.

Having run out of options, I considered the attic. Part of it was finished, even though we'd never used it as a "living space." We'd moved into the house when I was already seven months pregnant —dumping boxes, storage items, and inherited things in a frenzy before the baby arrived. Then, we shut the door.

I decluttered the attic to make room for me

I climbed the narrow steps to the third floor and peeked inside. In my head, a mantra from Kaizen philosophy: How do you move mountains? One stone at a time.

I took a deep breath and decided this would become my feminine sanctuary.

One stone at a time, I repeated with every box, every folder, every container, every piece of paper I pulled from the attic. I gifted usable things to Goodwill. I used a tip I'd read in a women's magazine to part with sentimental items by snapping photos to serve as memories, while tears streamed down my face. I placed toddler-sized sneakers into a big, black Hefty bag.

It took weeks, but the mountain became a small hill. The small hill shrank to little piles. Until, at last, the attic was empty, ready, waiting.

Designing from the inside out

Most of my life, I realized, I had to share space. Growing up, I shared a room with my sister. After college, I shared houses and apartments with roommates until I moved in with my now-husband. The opportunity to have my own space — to design it in a way that reflected the woman I was becoming — felt exciting and empowering.

As I envisioned the design of my space, I reflected on all that makes me uniquely me. The idea of a cairn came to mind — a structure built one stone at a time with intention and meaning.

One stone — meditator: a space by the window for my meditation pillows, mats, incense, and singing bowls.

One stone — writer/avid reader: a corner nook in which to curl up with books and journals.

One stone — solopreneur: a white, glass, L-shaped desk with plenty of space for my laptop.

One stone — mindfulness practitioner: walls adorned with inspiring art, affirmations, and symbols reflecting my growth.

I now have my own feminine sanctuary

A sign hangs on the door to the attic that reads, "The Zen Den — Meditation in Progress, Please Do Not Disturb."

I place it when I want quiet — while meditating, reading, writing, hosting Zoom calls, creating, practicing origami, or simply being.

For the first time in years, I have a space that reflects who I'm becoming as a woman. And I can hear my inner voice again.

No one intervenes or interrupts, except the cat. And I've given him a feline pass.

• My 70-year-old grandmother has been one of my biggest fashion inspirations.
• At 23, I still draw on her lessons as I get dressed, whether I'm wearing something casual or formal.
• She's taught me that clothes should be comfortable, practical, and confidence-boosting.

In many ways, my grandmother raised me.

We spent countless days together, and her face is at the center of some of my fondest childhood memories. She's one of the greatest influences in my life, shaping everything from how I see the world to how I dress.

Even as a 23-year-old, I admire her sense of style. Throughout her life, she's built an elegant wardrobe that draws from trends without necessarily following them.

At 70 years old, she continues to inspire me. Whenever I open my wardrobe to choose an outfit, I carry one of her invaluable lessons with me.

One of her core beliefs is that accessories should add to an outfit, not overwhelm it

I love accessories, often throwing on chunky jewelry, layering bold pieces, and stacking belts on my hips. Although my grandmother appreciates outfit embellishments, she's taught me to approach them with intention. They should add to an outfit, not overpower it.

For example, she isn't afraid to incorporate a pop of color — as long as it matches her accessories, from her bag to her shoes to her belt.

She's also strategic about her jewelry, choosing pieces based on her neckline and hairstyle that day. Her go-to earrings? Versatile medium-sized hoops, which are big enough to be visible under a range of hairstyles without dominating a look.

Now, my favorite everyday earrings are silver hoops. Every time I put them on, I feel like they brighten me up.

Although I play around with maximalist, trend-forward pieces, I stick to my grandmother's rules when I want to look elegant and timeless.

She taught me that walking with confidence can upgrade an outfit

My grandmother has always told me that picking out beautiful pieces is just the first step in putting together a great outfit. The way I carry myself when I'm wearing it can make or break a look.

I have vivid memories of her instructing me to walk in a straight line with my shoulders back, stepping with one leg in front of the other. I felt like I was balancing books on my head.

Over the years, walking with confidence has become second nature, whether I'm wearing a dress and heels or a sweatsuit and sneakers. She was right: It does make my clothes look better.

Even when my grandmother has dealt with health issues that affect her movements, she's always followed her own advice, walking straight with her head held high and shoulders back.

Her wardrobe is built on staple pieces that are practical and make her feel good

My grandmother has never been one to experiment much with clothes. I'm hard-pressed to remember a time when she wasn't wearing simple garments like straight pants, sweaters, tight long-sleeve T-shirts, or loose short-sleeve T-shirts.

She found her practical, elegant style when she was in high school and stayed true to it through every stage of life.

She gravitates toward easy-to-wear pieces that move with her and fit her body well. To her, clothes are meant to be worn, so they have to look and make her feel good in order to secure a spot in her closet.

For the past five years, I've focused on emulating her wardrobe. Every item I buy has to look good, feel nice on my body, and be practical.

When she layers, she makes sure the pieces complement each other

My grandmother has taught me that layering well requires more than throwing on multiple garments and calling it a day. The pieces have to be harmonious.

She has a way of looking elegant even as she combines unlikely pieces. When she's cold, I see her drape a long wool coat over her shoulders, throw on a pair of leather gloves, and tie a silk scarf around her neck.

Her base is always simple and cohesive, creating the perfect foundation for a layered outfit.

I've never been a big fan of layering clothes, but I use the same approach when choosing accessories. I start with a plain base layer before adding small, complementary pieces. I put thought into each one and consider how it works with the overall look.

My grandmother knows that wrinkles can ruin even the most stylish outfit

Growing up, my mom often insisted that I iron my clothes — later, I learned that the advice stemmed from my grandmother, who often shared it with her when she was young.

After all, even the best outfit can look messy if it's wrinkled.

In my family, crisp lines and smooth sleeves symbolize self-respect and elegance. Now, I follow their advice and never leave the house without ironing my clothes.