What I Learned at Dear Media

Everything clicked: the food, the fashion, the philosophy.

Yesterday, I sat across from Dr. Will Cole in the Dear Media studio, wearing something simple and sharp, knowing I was about to have a real conversation—but not realizing just how much it would clarify.

Will and I go back. In 2020, when I had my old wellness podcast Food, Sex, and Money, I had him on as a guest. This time, the roles reversed. He invited me onto his show, and we talked. Really talked. Not just about fashion or the image you see when you scroll through my Instagram, but about the things that have been foundational to me for years—before the brand, before the clothes, before the pressure to package it all perfectly.

We talked about everything—how I eat, how I think about red dye number 40, the backlash I’ve received simply for saying fruits and vegetables are good for you. The way we now live in a world where simplicity makes people spiral. Where eating fruit in the morning is controversial. Where telling the truth can still get you screamed at online.

I shared how learning my human design changed everything for me. How astrology, too, helped me understand why I feel things so deeply. Why I care so much. Why I can’t water it down just to be more palatable. I used to think I needed to stay quiet in order to be accepted—but the passion always finds a way to rise. Even when it’s inconvenient. Even when it’s not trending. And what I’ve come to understand is: I’m not supposed to be quiet. That’s not my design.

We talked about food combining, and Will kept circling back to it—curious about how it works, what it actually does. And I found myself explaining what I’ve always known to be true: it’s not a diet. It’s not restrictive. It’s just a way of bringing the body back into rhythm. It simplifies everything. It clears the fog.

And somewhere in that conversation, I heard myself say something that surprised even me, because it came out so clean and certain:

“It’s not complicated. It’s actually really simple. You just have to cut the crap.”

And I meant it—not just in food, but in life.

Everything is so complicated now. The way we eat. The way we get dressed. The way we consume. So much noise. So many formulas. So many experts telling us what to do, what to cut, what to believe.

But for me, the way I eat has always been the thing that quiets everything. Food combining helps me listen. It gives me rhythm. It’s not about being perfect—it’s about getting clear.

We talked about inflammation. About women’s bodies. About how disconnected we’ve become from our own signals. I told him how I’ve had my physical body dialed in for years—but my mind hadn’t caught up. I was trying to build a life and a brand on a foundation that wasn’t stable. And over the last year, that foundation has been rebuilt. Not rushed. Not optimized. Just... re-centered. Quieter. Simpler. Stronger.

I told him how I tried carnivore this past winter. And it taught me things. I could hear what worked and what didn’t. But I never left my baseline. I never stopped having fruit for breakfast. I never stopped food combining. Because the truth is—I always return to it.

It’s not a trend for me. Never was.
It’s not a hack. Also, never was.
It’s home.

And the older I get, the clearer I become: wellness doesn’t need to be performative.
It needs to work. And the only way to know what works is to listen.

And the more we spoke, the more I realized: this isn’t just about food. This is the same philosophy I’m bringing into everything. Health. Home. Brand.

Cut the noise. Keep it simple. Do it well.

At the very end of the conversation, Will asked me about BRÛLÉ. And I found myself saying the exact same thing.

“It’s simple.”

Not because it’s small or minimal, but because it’s clear. It’s disciplined. It doesn’t overextend itself to prove a point. It doesn’t scream. It doesn’t chase. And suddenly, I saw the whole thing—my health, my style, the brand, the rhythm I live by—it all clicked into place. My ethos has been there all along.

I just hadn’t FELT it as my superpower until that moment.

After we wrapped, I went to see Francisco—my manufacturer. He’s the one producing BRÛLÉ. His atelier is quiet, refined, and meticulous. He can make anything—denim, handbags, shoes—but what makes him rare is how much he cares. He sees the vision. He understands the restraint. He doesn’t ask why we’re only making a few pieces—he just nods, like of course. That’s the way it’s done when you do it right.

And standing there, watching the linen set come to life, I felt it again—that same clarity. That same simplicity. That same knowing.

This isn’t about keeping up. It’s about rising above. This isn’t about chasing what’s next. It’s about creating what lasts. Let the others play the algorithm. Let them beg for the repost. This is something else entirely.

I think what’s happening now is that I’m starting to trust the way I’ve always seen things. I’ve just never seen it so clearly reflected back. I’m not in this to trend. I’m in this to build. To create a world that reflects what I know to be true:

That fewer things, done well, with clarity and soul, will always outlast the noise.

That the best pieces are the ones you come back to over and over again, not because they’re popular, but because they feel right. That you don’t need five pants—you need one perfect one, worn five different ways. That you don’t need everyone to approve. You just need to know what you’re doing—and WHY.

I’ve always admired women like Jena Covello. Not because she says the right thing, but because she says the real thing. Because she’s built a world around her values, her taste, her way—and never apologized for any of it. She doesn’t bend. And still, her brand is beautiful. Desirable. Elegant. Did I mention; she is a self made badass?

That’s the energy I’ve stepped into. Not because I forced it—but because I remembered.

So no, BRÛLÉ isn’t for everyone. It was never supposed to be.

It’s for the woman who wears fewer pieces, but wears them deeply. Who dresses for herself—not for the feed. Who buys with intention. Who chooses silence over spectacle. Who understands that restraint is the real luxury now.

There’s no need to go louder. What we need now is to go truer.

And maybe this is me finally accepting that I’m not the influencer. Not the one playing the algorithm, syncing the sound, selling the link, editing the makeup routine. Maybe I was never meant to fit in that system.

Maybe I was meant to create the table they could sit at. And it’s time I stop wasting my energy pretending I can play that game. I can’t. I never could. And honestly? That’s the package. That’s the power. That’s the exact thing I can sit across from someone and talk about—just like I did with Will. It all made sense to me, finally.

And maybe—just maybe—you were never meant to fit in either. Maybe you’re here to build something entirely your own. Clearly, I’m still processing. Still peeling it all back. Still listening in.

And on another note—I just started the next BRÛLÉ set. The new tank. The boxer. The button-down. The pant. All organic. All intentional. All in motion.

I’ve got a launch to prep for. But I wanted to share this moment with you first. You know who loves ya…

X,

KB