Femininity Isn’t a Flowy Dress Over Impenetrable Armor

There’s soft jazz playing in the background as I think about how to open this next article. Three articles in three days? I didn’t even write this much when I was publishing books! But as it unfolds, here we are—melodies complementing the energy I’m about to bring to the coffee table.

I just finished showering. Brushed my teeth with some whitening toothpaste, buffed my nails, and lathered my face in the Nemohamo oils I’ve been treasuring since Japan. I spritz my favorite Chloé perfume, a fragrance from its Atelier des Fleurs collection—to me, this is an understated yet totally essential luxury.

I’ve written a few times about slow living. As I see it, graceful living is a rare virtue in an overstimulated world. It’s a priceless indulgence that, ironically, can be free. So, as the world perpetually bustles, may we, women, aspire to reclaim the timeless moments of our lives with greater intention and poise.

Originally, this platform was meant to be a cozy library for the internet—a place where women could retreat into softness and revive the slow moments of their lives. And, while this isn’t printed on pages the way I once envisioned, I’d like to think you’ve got a retinol face mask on, a hot peppermint tea with honey beside you, and an iPad or MacBook on your lap. Just as lovely, you may be reading this at a boardwalk café, smooth jazz playing in the background, and a matcha latte or foamy cappuccino in hand.

This is my intention for Prose & The Unpublished.

This is my intention for Life.

Though I’ve come to terms with the fact that not every day is a walk through Yoyogi Park during sakura season, I often wonder who we, as women, would become if we started treating ourselves—and, more importantly, our lives—as if every day were an exquisite new beginning.

Let’s call it the five-star lifestyle.

If we truly understood that restful living isn’t reserved for the privileged, would women still live rushed, busy, and overstimulating lives?

Would we, perhaps, sip our morning coffee a little slower?
Could we cook with greater presence—not just filling a void, but feeding our femininity?
And, gosh, would our homes still be cluttered with things that only add to the never-ending baggage (and to-do lists) we carry?

Just writing this, my heart rate spikes, my cortisol rises, and at once, I peel my eyes off the screen… to just breathe for a little while.

I once thought my greatest service to humanity would be another book with the ten steps to self-healing and ‘changing your life.’ But women don’t need more courses or workbooks…

They need to slow the f*ck down.

They need to put radiance at the top of their lists and actually get to know what that looks like for them.

Not every woman finds relaxation the way I do. Personally, I’m as facials and massages as it gets. My definition of everyday self-care is Laneige face cream, lavender amber candles, crème brûlée, and some lacy lingerie.

But self-care isn’t just in the routines and rituals. It’s in the way we choose to experience our lives. The way we take in the small luxuries—with more presence, more softness, more calm. It’s time we start treating our tasks like another page in Elle magazine rather than a sterile instruction manual for doing life ‘the right way.’

Most women rationalize or, rather, deny themselves the taste of slow living because somewhere in their chaotic life story, they picked up the belief that to live is to fend for yourself and to do it all alone—that survival is the price of existence.

But what they don’t realize is that such energy is loud, and their burnt-out sighs are even louder. Exhaustion takes up space in a room, in the air, and in the way their presence feels. Wouldn’t you rather be like the softest hint of your signature scent in a room full of people? Or the elegant putting-down of your fork and knife after an exquisite Michelin-star meal, instead of the guilt that lingers after bingeing on a plate full of empty carbs?

It’s time to think twice about our default reactions, to stop rushing, running, and resisting the essence of feminine life.

It’s time to choose presence. To prioritize our joie de vivre.

And yes, I’m well aware of the silent “Who does she think she is?” murmurs behind the screen. I know that many who skim the highlights of this article in a haze of mindless consumption will snark at my audacity.

But, lady, I was you once. I, too, have been overworked and bitter. I have walked the well-trodden path of burnout and resentment.

So you—especially you—the woman rolling her eyes, the one too exhausted to imagine another way, the one who has convinced herself that ease is a luxury reserved for others…

I see you.

And I’m asking you—what if it wasn’t?

What if softness, slowness, and joy weren’t indulgences but birthrights? What if you really can carry yourself through the world feeling lighter, more lived in, more… yours.

Because I promise you, the life you’re bracing yourself against is the very one waiting for you to surrender into.

So maybe the answer isn’t in doing more, but in allowing more.

More ease. More grace. More room to simply be.

What if the shift isn’t as drastic as you think either? What if it starts with the smallest acts—pausing between sips, taking an extra breath before responding, letting yourself feel rather than just function?

Because how you do one thing is how you do everything. And when you begin to move through life with intention, even the most ordinary moments take on a quiet kind of luxury.

Femininity isn’t a flowy dress you put over your impenetrable armor—it’s something you soften into. It’s the way you let radiance smoothen your skin like your favorite face creams and welcome stillness into your life without guilt.

True feminine poise is in the way you pour your wine, the way you light a candle, and, above all, the way you choose to receive life rather than merely get through it.

Rather than guzzling wine to escape your problems, make yourself a home-cooked, joy-fed meal with 2oz of wine—see how long you savor that cabernet sauvignon for.

And perhaps, instead of trying to read your magazine under a piercing, iridescent light with screaming children around you, you run yourself a candlelit bath or curl up in your favorite nook with a cashmere blanket and relaxing music on.

The ultimate difference?

One life is about enduring.
The other? Living.

And, thus, I find myself at the end of yet another trail of inspiration—one that began with soft jazz and a blank page, and ended with a quiet unraveling of my thoughts, poured like a perfectly steeped tea.

May we all learn to sip a little slower.

Xx

Sarah Elle