Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt convinced me to give up on my fashion industry dreams

How a Comedy Show Changed Everything for a Struggling Fashion Intern

Wanderstayfinder.com – It was three in the morning during the summer of 2017 when I found myself staring at the ceiling of a cramped hostel room in London. Around me, fourteen other sleepers filled the air with rhythmic snoring. I had spent eighteen months navigating the unpaid internship circuit within London’s fashion sector, surviving on twelve pounds each night for accommodation. Unable to drift off, I would pull out my battered smartphone and let television programs wash over the noise.

On that specific evening, I was watching Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, a surreal comedy series following a woman who relocates to New York after spending fifteen years confined beneath a doomsday cult’s underground shelter. The character’s unwavering optimism usually motivated me to persevere through difficult days. Yet that night, something unexpected occurred. Kimmy’s journey actually provided me with permission to abandon my ambitions.

A Dream That Didn’t Match Reality

Having grown up in Essex, I harbored visions of a glamorous career within fashion. I imagined residing in a converted artist’s warehouse, securing positions at prestigious publications like Vogue, and receiving invitations to exclusive industry gatherings. None of this reflected my actual circumstances. At twenty-three years old, I held a position at one of the most celebrated fashion magazines I had admired since childhood. Despite this title, my compensation was nonexistent.

My daily routine began at nine in the morning and concluded at five, though much of that time I spent organizing garments in the fashion closet. Once evening arrived, I transitioned into entirely different roles. From seven o’clock until two in the morning, I distributed flyers for fitness centers or stood at the entrance of a strip club, attempting to accumulate sufficient funds for my lodging expenses.

Most hostels included complimentary breakfast, which constituted my sole warm meal each day. Throughout the week, I would purchase a loaf of bread alongside a jar of peanut butter, consuming simple sandwiches for dinner. While my family encouraged my aspirations, the financial responsibility rested entirely on my shoulders.

The Struggle to Maintain Appearances

I desperately needed to present a polished appearance to blend in with colleagues, yet hostel security concerns meant I could not leave possessions behind. Consequently, I transported every item I owned within a backpack. One afternoon, my only footwear—silver glittery ballet pumps from New Look—completely fell apart. I retreated into the fashion closet and used tape to repair them. When I emerged, I found myself surrounded by elegant designer heels, a stark reminder of the gap between aspiration and reality.

I attempted to conceal my living situation. A public relations company where I had previously interned eventually discovered my hostel arrangements and announced to the entire office that I was homeless. My supervisor publicly handed me one hundred pounds in cash, declaring me “so brave.” This was the same manager who had compensated me with “experience” and “exposure” rather than actual wages.

The Moment of Decision

Every unpaid position carried the implicit promise that it “could lead to a full-time job,” convincing me that my breakthrough was imminent. The theory suggested that if I simply positioned myself correctly, spoke appropriately, and wore the right ensemble, success would follow. However, more than a year had elapsed, and the interns who appeared to advance seemed to possess existing connections.

The episode I viewed that night, titled “Kimmy Gives Up!”, captured a pivotal moment. Kimmy’s optimistic facade finally fractures. Her landlord Lillian delivers timely counsel: “I know you’re tough and you never give up, but sometimes the hardest thing you can do is just quit and walk away.” Lillian then performs a satirical song called “Just Go On,” which parodies “Tomorrow” from the musical Annie.

“I know you’re tough and you never give up, but sometimes the hardest thing you can do is just quit and walk away.”

Within those one minute and fifty-three seconds of music, something fundamental shifted inside me. I recall sitting in that triple bunk bed, tears flowing silently down my cheeks. I had maintained such positivity, mirroring Kimmy’s spirit, and bent over backwards for these opportunities—yet I could no longer deceive myself. The following day, I resigned. I informed my supervisor that my funds had depleted, I resided in hostels, and I could no longer work without compensation. She remained unfazed, making it evident that I was completely replaceable.

“The sooner you quit something that stinks, the sooner you can find something that doesn’t. Save your hope for that.”

Those words from Lillian resonated deeply. I departed, and the path forward became clearer. I have since established a career in film and television, focusing primarily on comedy projects. “Just Go On” remains a song I frequently listen to whenever I face difficult decisions about staying or moving on. Had I never left that office, I would never have discovered the opportunities that had been waiting for me all along.