Sarah is a psychologist, consultant, and founder of Trulery, a platform blending a curated shop, design and fashion psychology consulting, and editorial storytelling. Through her work, she helps people connect style, spaces, and well-being in a way that feels authentic and inspiring.
Dumplings with scrambled eggs are the go-to but don’t taste as good without my Saturday morning television.
How else would I know about all the latest toys to nag my parents about? Practically an only child (my siblings are much older), I spent a lot of time playing with toys alone in my house, often dressing the quintessential it-girl herself, Barbie.
The highlight of my life was decorating the Barbie Dreamhouse. I spent endless hours moving furniture pieces to get it “just right.” And somehow I always did. Was this the beginning of my interest in fashion and design? Or did I already have creative leanings that needed an outlet, and Barbie just happened to be available?
As I poured my creativity into Barbie, becoming her stylist-slash-decorator before I even knew what it meant, my physical world was shaping me, my choices. But I was also shaping it, proof of the old saying, children make the house a home.
My much older siblings often remind me I livened up the home when I was born.
There’s something about the energy that young children bring. Their untamed imagination and sense of wonder reveal glimpses of who they truly are before life sets in and starts telling them who to be.
While I thoroughly enjoyed being Barbie’s mini-creative director, I’d like to think my playtime was more well-rounded than that. I recall childhood moments spent at the public pool, the sun hitting the glistening aqua water, urging me to dive in. Or competing with the kids next door to see who can climb trees higher.
Then, in second grade, there were the daily unchaperoned walks to school with my best friend, trying to one-up each other with wild stories about who might live in the homes we passed by.
If I was, in fact both shaped by and shaped these memorable experiences, how much of my coping, creativity, and resiliency can I attribute to them? Was I preparing for my adult life and didn’t know it?
When I design and redesign my home until it’s “right”, or get excited about getting dressed, seeing it as a creative outlet rather than a chore, I can thank my Barbie styling days for sparking my love for curating looks and spaces.
That same persistence helped me in other ways too. When I didn’t get into grad school for the second time, I continued applying, broken-hearted and all, until I made it in on the third try.
I’d like to think my childhood perseverance played a role, forged during playtime when I refused to give up, whether it was rearranging the Dreamhouse or competing with the kids next door.
Maybe I’m not the only one whose childhood play became preparation for life.
It turns out that adults often recall the places they played between ages 7 and 12 as especially meaningful, perhaps because even then, they were practicing for the future without knowing it.
Those in-between years are often when we explore and take risks in new ways, instincts that can get lost in the hustle and bustle of adulthood if we don’t hold onto them.
In talking with other adults about how they were affected by their play environments, some remembered their play as a sense of adventure.
“In the brook behind my house, I loved putting a plastic butter container in the water, and following it as far as I could. I played Charlie’s Angels in the wooded area around the brook, and caught crayfish and minnows in a bucket. It made me appreciate nature, and gave me a strong sense of independence.”
Others remembered their play as a chance to build..
“I played outside in the park, the street, and the backyard with my friends. We built forts with whatever we could find and made up our own games. It taught me creativity, resilience, and teamwork. Building forts sparked my imagination and problem-solving skills.”
And still others recalled that their play gave them the freedom to dream.
“I spent a lot of time with my sister, making up elaborate stories about our dolls and stuffed animals. We also played school, church, and pretended we were on dance shows like Soul Train and American Bandstand. I think I have a bit of a dreamer’s spirt because of it.”
These collective memories capture a sense of adventure, the motivation to make something out of nothing, and the freedom to dream, all part of how I played too.
And now, as I spend my days helping people understand themselves through the lens of style psychology, I owe my first client, Barbie all her flowers for helping ignite the creativity that needed somewhere to go.
Fashion, after all, is one of the most powerful tools for self-expression. In childhood, it supports the kind of play that builds identity, sparks creativity, and nurtures emotional growth. As we grow, that playful spirit evolves. We may no longer be dressing for make-believe but we still use clothing to express who we are and imagine who we’re becoming.
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