路,在脚下

35岁那年,我投出了人生最后一份简历。

七轮面试。两个完整的项目。还专程跑去上海面谈。

最后什么都没有。


那之后我一直在想一件事——我到底在等谁,为我打开一扇门?

做了十几年设计。我一直相信一个逻辑:只要你足够好,机会就会来。这个逻辑曾经很管用。我用它走过了很长一段路。

但七轮面试之后,我看明白了一件事。

不是我不再优秀。是那个曾经奖励「优秀」的系统,已经不再需要我。

路堵死了。我可以挤回去,跟更多人抢那份越来越小的蛋糕。也可以去找下一个出口。

我选择了后者。不是因为看到了答案。是因为实在不想再回头。


后来我做内容。把在时尚行业攒了十几年的东西——那些跑遍意大利面料工坊才摸到的信息,那些外行人根本不知道去哪儿找的资源——一点一点写出来,分享给年轻的独立设计师。

做了一年。涨了一千个粉丝。没有变现。

但我发现了一件事:我以为很普通的东西,对另一群人来说,是根本找不到的信息。

那是我第一次觉得,路,也许真的不只有一条。


一年下来,我并没有摸到自媒体的门。

有天偶然参加了一个活动,叫 Adventure X。现场挤满了二十几岁的年轻人。他们眼睛里有光——那种光,是二十几岁的我曾经有过的东西。我已经太久太久没有感受到那种能量了。

从那天开始,我接触了 Web3。

我不懂技术。代码对我来说是另一门外语。但我还是进去了。

渐渐地,拿到了第一个线上课程的优秀学员。然后第二个,第三个。参加了一个 Hack House,拿了奖,还因此飞了一趟新加坡。

我以为,这就是那条新路了。


2025年11月28号,国家发了一纸禁令。

这条路,又没了。

那晚我坐在沙发上,想起七轮面试之后的感受。似曾相识,无比陌生。黎明,又转入黑暗。


但这一次,我想通了一件事。

这几年,每当我闯进一个陌生的领域,有一个东西一直跟着我。

AI。

不是作为工具。是作为一个协作者,一个真正意义上的 co-pilot。

每次路被堵死,以为什么都没有了的时候——其实我一直都带着一把钥匙。只是没注意到。

从去年开始,我 build 了 29 个项目。一个没有任何工程背景的时尚设计师。


我今天依然在路上。没有走到终点。

但我知道,AI 能帮你做到的,可能比你想象的要多很多。

不是给你一张地图。是陪你走那段你以为走不过去的路。

如果你现在也站在一扇刚关上的门前——

我希望透过我,你能看到:路,还在脚下。


The Road Is Under Your Feet

I sent my last job application at thirty-five.

Seven rounds of interviews. Two full project briefs. A flight to Shanghai just to meet in person.

Then nothing.


Afterward, I kept coming back to the same question: who exactly was I waiting for to open a door for me?

I spent over a decade in fashion design believing in a simple deal with the world: be good enough, and opportunities will find you. That deal worked for a long time. I built a career on it.

But after that seventh interview, I finally understood something.

It wasn’t that I’d stopped being good. It was that the system that used to reward “good” no longer needed me in it.

I could fight my way back in — elbow for a smaller and smaller slice of a shrinking pie. Or I could go find a different door entirely.

I chose the second option. Not because I could see where it led. Because I couldn’t bring myself to go back.


So I started making content.

I had over a decade of knowledge sitting in my head — sourcing contacts across Italy, fabric mills most people don’t know exist, information that took years of showing up in person to find. I started writing it down. Sharing it with independent designers just starting out.

A year later: a thousand followers. Zero revenue.

But something shifted in how I understood things.

What felt ordinary to me was completely inaccessible to other people. I had been walking around with a rare currency and had no idea.

That was the first time I thought: maybe there really is more than one road.


I still hadn’t figured out the content thing when I stumbled into an event called Adventure X.

The room was full of people in their twenties. They had this look in their eyes — a kind of aliveness — that I recognized from somewhere far back in my own past. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt that kind of energy in a room.

I left and started learning about Web3.

I had no engineering background. Code was a second language I’d never studied. I went in anyway.

Slowly, I started getting results. First place in one online course. Then another. Then I joined a Hack House, won something, and found myself on a plane to Singapore.

I thought: this is the new road.


On November 28, 2025, the Chinese government issued a ban.

That road closed too.

I sat on my couch that night and felt something I recognized. That particular combination of exhaustion and deflation — the specific texture of watching something you’d built go quiet. I’d felt it after the seven interviews. Now I was feeling it again.

Familiar. Completely disorienting.


But something was different this time.

I started noticing a pattern in the past few years. Every time I pushed into unfamiliar territory — content creation, Web3, whatever came next — there was something that came with me.

AI. Not as a tool I picked up and put down. As an actual collaborator. A co-pilot in the truest sense.

Every time a door closed, I had a key I didn’t know I was carrying.

In the past year, I’ve built 29 projects. A fashion designer with no engineering background, no CS degree, no roadmap.


I’m still on the road. I haven’t arrived anywhere yet.

But here’s what I know now: what AI can help you do is probably further than you think. Not by handing you a plan. By staying in the room with you through the parts that feel impossible.

If you’re standing in front of a door that just closed —

I hope something in this helps. The road is still under your feet. You’re just not at the part yet where you can see it clearly.