The Magick of Dressing Like a Friggin Rockstar

On sacred style, private glamour, and the joy of dressing for your inner world

There’s something radically holy about unloading the dishwasher in sequins. Or brewing tea at 10 p.m. in a pair of “fuck around and find out” boots. At home, I dress like a rockstar – not because anyone sees me, but because I do. Because I show up. For myself. For the energy I want to summon. For the parts of me that don’t fit neatly into a meeting agenda or the patriarchy. Glamour isn’t superficial glitter – it’s a form of sorcery. And honestly? That’s what I call magic.

Clothes That Liberate – or Constrain

When I step into my professional roles – as a counselor or HR professional – I often choose clothes that are consciously neutral. Not boring, but grounded. Cuts that radiate safety. Colors that say: You can be yourself here. Not because I’m hiding, but because I’m making space. For others. For their stories. For their rawness.

But let’s be clear: clothes are never just clothes. They send signals, whether we like it or not. And even though I can’t fully control how I’m read, I try to dial down the volume. So the message is clear: you don’t need to perform to be taken seriously. Whether raw, polished, or somewhere in between – you are okay.

Business outfits? I love them – when they fit the occasion. A sharply tailored blazer, elegant shoes, fabrics that carry weight and presence. That can feel powerful, and sometimes it’s exactly the energy I want. But I don’t want that to be my only style. I want the choice. Because as much as I enjoy dressing polished and chic, I also crave the freedom to express myself outside of convention. And that, too, is magic: the right clothing for the right spell. Situational. Powerful. Transformative.

Home as Temple, Closet as Altar

Sweatpants? Sure, sometimes. But more often, I create my own runway. Sometimes it’s the silk blouse. A flowing hippie dress with oversized gold earrings big enough to pick up satellite signals. My style is a love letter to the bohemian icons of the ’70s, laced with modern witchcraft and a splash of chic.

I dress for my mood, for my rituals, for my joy. Writing? Then I reach for strong shoulders, statement rings, silk in the color of my current power. Craving peace? Soft fabrics, barefoot mornings, garments that feel like an embrace. It’s not about likes, stares, or office dress codes. It’s about honoring myself. Every time I dress for me – even if I’m just lighting incense and answering emails – I reconnect. With beauty. With creativity. With the version of myself that doesn’t need permission to take up space or sparkle. My closet isn’t storage. It’s spellwork.

Urban Mystic Side Note: Witchy Aesthetic ≠ Witchcraft

Let’s be honest: witchy aesthetic looks cute. Black velvet, crystals, a pentagram necklace – it has a certain vibe. But aesthetics alone don’t make you a witch. If the action, the intention, and the lived practice don’t match, it’s just a costume. Pretty, but empty.

Magic isn’t an Instagram filter. It’s the action behind it. The spell doesn’t come from the velvet cape or the dramatic eyeliner – but from the energy you set into motion. Without intention, glamour is decoration. With intention, glamour is sorcery.

Glamour Magick, Darling

So, let's really cast for a moment: Glamour magick is the art of transformation. Not deception, not disguise. But embodying a version of yourself that already exists in potential – and calling her forth. And the best part? You don’t need to do it for Instagram, your boss, or even your mirror. Dressing yourself with love and creativity, just for you, is an act of sovereignty. A quiet rebellion. A reminder: I decide how I clothe my energy.

You Don’t Owe the World Your Sparkle (Every Day)

Some days, I want to be seen. And some days, the most powerful thing I can do is protect my sparkle. Keep it sacred. Hold it for myself. Because just because something is beautiful doesn’t mean it has to be public. In a culture that constantly demands visibility, exhibitionism, and explanation, holding something back can be feminist rebellion. A gesture of tenderness. A reminder: I’m not a product. I’m a person.

Final Thoughts: Dress Like Nobody’s Watching (Because Nobody Is)

There’s real power in dressing like your inner rockstar at home. No audience. No likes. No applause. Just you, your intention, and the ritual of adorning yourself as the multidimensional being you are. So go ahead. Wear the boots in the kitchen. Eyeliner at midnight. Perfume that only your walls will notice. Don’t do it in spite of. Do it because of.

Because it’s magic.

Because it’s joy.

Because you can.