Because beauty heals—and makes evil look silly.
A Quiet Declaration
I created Rosnolia.com because I wanted a space on the internet where I could take a cup of tea, curl into a metaphorical ball, put on a metaphorical (or quite literal, as in the case of now) hoodie, and not feel accosted by what I might come across while browsing.
I want Rosnolia.com to feel like a beautiful space too—because beauty does something. It protects, soothes, and intercepts bad vibes like a platinum dome bubble over your nervous system.
In places that demand hurriedness and thus produce frazzle and fried-ness in my body, I’ve often felt implicitly required to tone my external expressiveness down and be less “extra”-ordinary. So, now, choosing to double-down on what makes me feel calm and soft is like a quiet form of resistance.
Ask any self-identifying pretty girl and she’ll tell you: showing up with softness and delicacy in places that try to squeeze out every drop of your pizazz takes grit. I’ve always resonated with Madeleine Albright’s brooch collection for this reason.
After all, it’s not vain to want to express yourself in ways that make you feel beautiful. In the war against intentional living, the ability to mindfully cultivate beauty is a prudent survival tactic.
This is what I want for Rosnolia.com—to create and share things that resonate vibrationally with the energies of grace, intention, and the ongoing process of cultivating beautiful, protective, spaces for ourselves—wherever we may be.
Beauty as a Forcefield
Even when I worked in corporate offices, I filled my cubicle with plants and ephemera like a squirrel with a flair for interior design. A coworker once called it “my habitat,” and honestly? She wasn’t wrong.
Although, these days, I’ve become more discerning in my acquisitions so that every item I bring into my space—or style in an OOTD—is part of a quiet architectural web of protection. I’m not just designing—I’m fortifying.
To me, thoughtful curation isn’t about trends. It’s about energetic protection.
Beauty—real, soulful, well-thought design—is armor. It’s the opposite of mass-produced or surface-level aesthetics. It’s a strong declaration of the desire to create space for the “little things” that mean the most to each of us. I personally want my life—and the things I express through it—to feel weighty, rich, and soulful.
Yes, that likely means acquiring things more intentionally and having fewer things overall. But I’m okay with that.
It’s kind of the point, actually.
The Texture of Time
I can feel it when something’s been made with care. Can’t you?
There’s a resonance. A hum. A richness that only develops over time—like the scent of old wood, the feel of yarn looped and looped again with care, or a pot of beans left on the stovetop for a bit longer after it’s done so that the flavor will mature. You can’t rush that. (And you’ll know if someone tried.)
Lately, I’ve been teaching myself to dye organic cotton with plant-based pigments. Watching how simple ingredients shift through pH manipulation, fermentation, and time—it’s magic. I’ve learned that developing the right circumstances for alchemy requires patience.
My Creole Compass
I grew up in New Orleans. I’m a seventh-generation Creole woman, which means my identity is… layered.
People often assume otherwise when they see my tan skin tone and loose curls. But my cultural DNA is a gumbo of French, African, Spanish, and Indigenous roots. We live in the both/and.
So when I first visited Mexico City, I felt interestingly at home.
My Spanish language literacy was, and still is, “más o menos” …okay at best. But the cultural textures—the food, the family rhythms, the Afro-Caribbean undertones in the music, the Spanish-style architecture, the post-rain warmth of the neighborhood where my host family lived—felt deeply familiar.
Later, I learned there’s a term for this: transculturation.
It’s what happens when people from different backgrounds rub up against one another so much that their cultures intertwine. That’s New Orleans. That’s me. That’s Rosnolia.
Mexico City, 2006
I studied abroad in Mexico City the summer after Hurricane Katrina.
I was in my early twenties, navigating a major international city with nothing but a spiral-bound Guía Roji map and the grace of my host family and institution.
My mom warned me (half-jokingly) not to get kidnapped because she “wouldn’t pay the ransom.” But my professors reminded me: You’re from New Orleans. You know how to move smart in a city.
Taking the risk of living in CDMX that summer changed me.
I visited anthropology museums, wandered Xochimilco, bartered in mercados with my host mom. Even when I didn’t understand every word, I could feel the significance of the places I stood in through the intentional preservation of the historic landmarks and the pride with which stories about their significance were told. I didn’t know then how much absorbing the beauty and history would shape how I think about my crochet projects today.
Objects That
Talk Back
In Mexico City, I bought earrings. Lots of them and given the quality of the craftsmanship, they were bargains!
Nearly 20 years later when I wear certain pairs, people still stop me to ask where they’re from.
I also bought a rebozo in Xochimilco from a woman selling in a market near the historic floating garden area that the region is known for. I didn’t know what a rebozo was at the time, or its cultural significance. I just knew it was beautifully made and it looked soft, delicate, and strong. A few months ago, I wore that same rebozo to work and during my commute on a bus in D.C., a woman across the aisle from where I was sitting waved me down to compliment me on it. I believe that’s the energy that beautiful things carry—they stop us in our tracks and make us feel something different than the hurried hustle and bustle. From that moment, beauty gives us a choice to focus on the good.
That’s the authority of legacy craftsmanship. It’s a grace and ability to demand calm and attentiveness in any moment.
Making as
Memory-Keeping
My home is full of objects that talk back to me.
My cozy chair says: I’ll hold you while you think—but don’t fall asleep.
My spin bike says: Let’s go. We’re in this together.
The blanket at the foot of my bed says: I can help keep you warm this evening. You’ll be safe.
I believe when we surround ourselves with beautiful, intentional things, our nervous systems respond.
We feel safe, energized, and seen and those items represent the fabric of our life’s story.
Humor Is My Favorite Healer
I also believe that for every pound of beauty, there are a few ounces of intense reflection mixed in.
If I can’t laugh about something, I probably haven’t fully processed it yet and the work of its cultivation isn’t complete.
(Too much of an obvious pearl metaphor here?)
In fact, my sister has observed firsthand that my creative process isn’t over until I’ve had at least one existential meltdown.
I think beautiful things are usually a little quirky too—because the process of cultivating beauty creates self-awareness.
Frida Kahlo was masterful in this. Her paintings showed pain with wit and vulnerability with strength. So were Hollywood icons like Ingrid Bergman and Audrey Hepburn. Glamorous, yes—but with a lived-in elegance. They weren’t afraid to poke fun at the stigmas of Hollywood idealism through slight gestures of physical comedy and quick witted comebacks via the characters they brought to life through their art. To me, this is the kind of beauty that stands the test of time. Because it’s elegant and approachable but also real and radiant.
I Hope You Feel Held and Protected in the Rosnolia Bubble
I hope you feel what I feel when I wear my rebozo from Xochimilco—that the space is creating a place where you feel spurred on to live radiantly and beautifully.
I hope this digital sanctuary makes you feel inspired to curate your own environments, so you can feel strong, sacred, and silly all at once.
The pieces I share (the posts and the items in shop.rosnolia.com) are slowly crafted with intention, heart, and deep reverence for my heritage and yours.
They’re designed to inspire you to make the parts of your life that feel safe more significant in your everyday rituals so that you can radiate your own protection like a platinum dome bad-juju-intercepting bubble.
Thank You
Thank you for being here.
I hope reading this post felt like sitting in a warm chair, wrapping a thick, squishy, scarf around your shoulders, or laughing hard with friends about something only you’d all understand.
We need beautiful things around us.
Let’s honor them—and the energy in which they’re made—by enjoying them well.
References:
- Tigon Law
- Pretty Girl Rock
- Read My Pins
- Guia Roji
- Xochimilco
- Rebozos
- Transculturation
- Movies you should watch if you haven’t (Charade and Notorious)
(P.S. I receive no affiliate commission from these links, they are here purely for your enjoyment and reference).
🌿 Want to wear something that feels like a soft shield?
Explore the collection → shop.rosnolia.com
Bonus Track
Keep the Conversation Going:
💬 What makes you feel safe, radiant, or beautifully held?
I’d love to hear. Reply below or tag me to share your own rituals of comfort, coziness, or soft self-protection. @rosnolia.bsky.social
Let’s make space for beauty that hugs back. 🧡
Share with this cozy community…