How to Grapple with Disappointment
Life has a way of surprising us, often in ways we neither hope for nor expect. This past week, I attended my synagogue—a ritual I’ve only recently embraced. During the parsha, the weekly Torah portion, I was deeply moved by its themes, particularly this week’s focus on disappointment and how Joseph grappled with it.
It struck a profound chord with me—disappointment is a universal experience, and the way we respond to it shapes the essence of who we are and who we become.
Like everyone, I’ve faced it: in myself, in loved ones, in friends, and in the professionals who crossed my path. But what I’ve come to realize, after years of reflection, is that every disappointment, painful as it was, has been a catalyst for growth and redirection.
I still remember the sting of rejection when I applied at 16 to École Boulle, one of the most prestigious art schools in Paris. I walked out feeling like an imposter. How could I have ever believed I belonged there? Later, I was accepted into prépa-HEC, the rigorous gateway to France’s elite business schools, but I left after just three months. It felt like another failure.
I enrolled at Paris-Dauphine, which I then dismissed as second-rate. I convinced myself I wasn’t learning anything of value, but I was wrong—I was learning about life. I learned to flirt, to smoke, to laugh, to live freely. I graduated without a clear path, yet something inside me burned with certainty: my future wasn’t in Paris—it was in America.
When I came to New York, I pursued fashion design at FIT. But once again, I left, uninspired and questioning my decisions. When I got married, I poured myself into being the best wife, hostess, and mother I could be. I loved my husband and children deeply, but there was a restlessness inside me, a yearning to create and build something of my own.
It wasn’t until a chance encounter that my path finally began to take shape. A friend commissioned me to design cufflinks, and for the first time, someone saw a spark of talent in me. That recognition ignited something fierce. Determined to succeed, I cold-called Bergdorf Goodman’s buyer. No answer. I persisted, and when I finally got a meeting, she stood me up. I was devastated, but I refused to leave. That moment of boldness changed my life—a divisional manager saw me, invited me in, and gave me my first chance.
But the road was grueling. Male buyers dominated the industry, and earning their trust was an uphill battle. When Bergdorf’s new buyer decided to drop my line 10 years into our relationship, I was shattered. I cried in his office, feeling like my world had crumbled. They were my biggest account. I could have given up right then, but I didn’t. Instead, I picked up the phone and called Barneys. And when Barneys went under, I opened my own store.
Disappointment has been my greatest teacher. It has tested me, pushed me, and refined me. In my youth, I let it consume me, convincing myself I wasn’t good enough. But now, I see it as a gift. Every rejection, every closed door, has forced me to dig deeper, to pivot, and to rise.
I’ve learned that the greatest victories often come on the heels of our darkest moments. Every failure, every setback, has led me to where I am today. I am proud of the journey, proud of the woman I’ve become. Disappointment doesn’t define us—it transforms us, if we let it. And I have. I’ve let it shape me into someone who embraces every challenge as a chance to build something better.
