There’s a blazer that lives on the back of my office chair.

It’s nothing special, thrifted, slightly wrinkled, a quiet (once white) neutral that doesn’t ask for attention. But it’s seen me through more high-stakes moments than anything else in my closet (hot orange pantsuit included). When I slide it on, something in me clicks into place. It's not about style. It’s not about polish. It’s about permission.

Permission to show up as the version of myself I sometimes forget exists. The one who leads with clarity. The one who doesn’t apologize before offering her rate. The one who remembers that her voice has value, even if she’s just walked in from the drop-off line with dog hair on her leggings.

My Zoom blazer is a talisman. A threadbare cloak of courage. It’s one of a few small things, like a pair of gold earrings, a chapstick swipe, and my beloved $14 bottle of Elf Halo Glow, that remind me I’m still me, even when I feel frayed at the edges.

Because here’s what no one tells you about running a business when you’re also raising humans, juggling life admin, navigating grief, or simply waking up in a body that feels heavy with the weight of trying: Confidence doesn’t greet you at the mirror every morning. Sometimes, she’s still asleep under the covers. On those days, you need symbols that can stand in her place.

For me, it’s the blazer. For you, it might be a playlist, a prayer, or a post-it on the monitor that says: “Showing up doesn’t make you a show off.”

We don’t talk enough about these invisible bridges, the things we reach for when doubt is louder than drive. The moments before the moment. That liminal space between living and leading where your cursor blinks at you, the Zoom link hovers, or the “send” button waits.

I’ve noticed this with my clients, too. Women who are strategic, seasoned, and deeply good at what they do. And still, they hesitate. They stare at the LinkedIn post for three days straight. They question the way they phrased a sentence for hours before sending a DM. They wonder if they’re coming across too bold…or not bold enough.

It’s not because they’re not ready. It’s because they’re waiting to feel like their “best self.” That self feels frustratingly elusive when you’ve been parenting, people-pleasing, or performing on autopilot for years. But here’s the truth I’ve learned from hundreds of calls, dozens of launches, and more inner pep talks than I can count:

Your best self is not a costume you grow into. She’s already here. She just needs you to invite her in.

She’s waiting for your cue. Something to help her cross from doubt into presence and from perfectionism into participation. From “what if they judge me?” into “what if someone needs exactly what I have to give?”

This is why we need our Zoom Blazers, not because they change who we are, but because they help us remember. So if you’re staring down a call, a pitch, a post, or a DM you’ve been afraid to send, go find your bridge. It’s not a crutch, it’s a cue.

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Light the candle.

Start the playlist.

Apply the lip gloss.

Whisper the mantra.

Put on the blazer.

Not because these things make you brave, but because they remind you that you already are.