You're It, Girl

Finding your own shorthand for desire, aspiration, and power. The It Girl is no longer a universal fantasy—she’s yours to choose. This is about mine, and how she changed everything.

There has always been an It Girl stunning on magazine covers and walking with a certain myth around her. Her perfectly unkempt hair, her glistening manicure and intoxicating eyes bolded and bolded again. She is plastered in windows of shops, staring back at you from the checkout line. Even on your very own coffee table there emerges an It Girl to mark the moment, to crystallize beauty, style, and spirit.

She used to be a women who defined a generation, who became shorthand for desire, aspiration, and power. Now she’s plural. She’s refracted. She’s chosen, not anointed. And in that shift, something powerful has happened: we’ve all become curators of our own desire.

Today, in a world shaped by inclusivity and hyper-personalized media, the It Girl no longer stands alone. She isn’t a universal figure anymore—she’s specific, and intimate. She is chosen by us, rather than for us.

Now, each of us gets to explore and search for the perfect It Girl who speaks to us.

She doesn’t represent every woman; she represents your kind of woman. A mirror with just enough distance to inspire. In her, you see an older sister—someone close enough to relate to, but far enough to dream toward. She perfectly balances personal and private. The modern It Girl doesn’t unify the female experience into a single silhouette. She resists that agenda. She splinters it into facets—each one gleaming with a different truth, a different kind of power.

For me, Camille Rowe was that girl. My self-proclaimed It Girl. She is someone who quietly, and unknowingly, reconstructed the way I saw myself. She changed my life.

I became fascinated by her whole aura: casual, clever, a little undone in the most intentional way. Choosing an It Girl a slippery slope… but also a powerful one because in learning what draws you to someone, you begin to define yourself.

Camille Rowe is French-American, raised between France, California and New York. That alone tells you something: she’s got that unbothered, effortless chic that only comes from straddling coasts and cultures. Admiring her felt like permission to lean into contradiction—soft and sharp, playful and poised.

(I have been obsessed with this vintage designer nightgown for as long as I can remember)

Camille doesn’t try to be anything, yet she has this intoxicating allure about her. She is an advocate She speaks openly about her love for reading, and her advocacy for education feels natural, not curated. That subtle but powerful embrace of intellect gave me the building blocks.

This isn’t a love letter to Camille Rowe, though I suppose it starts that way. It’s a story about what happens when you see someone and suddenly see yourself differently.

At the time, I was in the last two years of high school, teetering between childhood and adulthood. My brain was still stretching and sculpting itself, and Camille’s influence on me nudged it in a direction I hadn’t expected. Suddenly, being well-read felt like the most alluring thing a girl could be.

I realized that if I started now, I could build a mind rich with knowledge by the time others were just beginning. I didn’t want to wait until I was retired to be wise. Camille made education sultry. She was the embodiment of “smart is sexy.”

Through her bookshelves, her interviews, her contradictions, I began to excavate the version of me I hadn’t yet grown into.

I began with books she mentioned in interviews or was seen reading in photos. Then I branched out—devouring every article that listed books beloved by celebrities or artists. I was chasing inspiration, but I ended up finding myself.

There’s a clip from an interview where Camille says, “Lack of education is very boring.” It lodged itself into my brain like a little spark—and quietly, it lit a fire. It’s one thing to be book-smart and pass a test, but there’s a whole other realm of intelligence that lives in your emotional depth, your curiosity, your ability to think beyond what’s been handed to you. That’s what I started to understand: being well-read isn’t about sounding impressive—it’s about being interested, and learning how to feed that interest.

Reading made me hungry—not just to know more about the world, but about myself. What I notice. What I love. What I question. Once you learn how to teach yourself, you unlock something intimate and powerful. It’s one of the greatest hidden weapons a person can have.

I wanted to become the girl who was effortlessly smart—someone who could be silly because she knew she didn’t have to pick between being silly or being serious. She could hold both. We’re told this as we grow up, of course, but it doesn’t always click right away. Especially when the media loves its neat little labels. It rarely glamorizes nuance.

But in Camille, I saw that duality lived out loud. I saw a woman who could make intellect feel seductive and playfulness feel profound. That was the kind of woman I wanted to become.

Through all of this, I believe I’ve begun to truly find myself—and with that, I’ve grown into a quiet, grounded kind of confidence. For the first time, I don’t feel like a fraud in my own life. I feel whole. I’m learning how to balance the girl I was with the woman I’m becoming, letting both coexist without shame or apology.

Of course, there are still moments where everything feels like it’s unraveling. I’m twenty years old—my life is not a finished masterpiece and I expect the floor to be lava at times and quick sand at others. This isn’t some cure-all, some perfect transformation. But there’s a new kind of steadiness in me now. A sense that I’ve learned, in my own small way, how to live in the past, present, and future all at once.

After all, an It Girl is everywhere.

Who is your It Girl?