OUTFIT | The White Button-Up



So are you mad at me for not doing an outfit post since November?  #oops #sorry #winter

Thankfully Miss Emily has been holding up strong on the style front lately!  I mean I just wish she could dress me everyday…no but really.  Before I leave the house for meetings I always text her a picture of my outfit.  This usually results in her texting me back a ‘please don’t leave the house in that’.  I keed.  I keed.  But really Em has influenced my style a lot over the past few years, and has shown me the value of investing into quality pieces of my wardrobe.

More and more I’m getting rid of pieces in my closet I don’t need, and really just trying to keep it simple and classic (#shoutouttojcrew…I guess I’m really into hashtags today).  Anyone else too busy to keep up with the latest trends?

I love this outfit.  It’s so me.  Simple.  Classic.  Ladies don’t be scared to keep it easy.  Sometimes I put pressure on myself to come up with this creative + unique outfit.  But I always feel best in something like this. (or my yoga pants…but if I must ‘get dressed’ an outfit like this makes me happy).





JCrew.WhiteButtonUp.KatHarris-7    JCrew.WhiteButtonUp.KatHarris-4

Photos:  Tutti del Monte
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Beauty Is ... / Inspiration

Who Am I Without the Titles



Daughter.  Sister.  Friend.  Christian.  Single.  Woman.  Photographer.  Writer.  Speaker.  Blogger.  Entrepreneur.  Business Owner.  Virgin.  Yogi

This tells you what I am, but it doesn’t really tell you who I am.  There’s a big difference between a what and a who.  When I think of what it implies object, a thing.  ‘A what’ is one dimensional.

Apple:  red.

Square:  shape.

Katherine:  blogger.

When we meet people it’s so easy to ask ‘what do you do’.  It’s drilled into our culture.  Society screams at us from all angles You matter because of what you are.  Each time we ask it we affirm that what we do is who we are.  Which if that is that case, then we live in a flat and boring world.

Sunday afternoon I was with a group of women at Pepper Brunch and business coach Cyndie Spiegel, the guest speaker talked about living your dream career.  She had a lot of things to offer us.  But my mind narrowed on this one particular question, and I have not been able to shake it for the last few days.  She asked:

Who are you without the titles?

Yesterday after yoga I curled up on a comfy couch in a quiet corner the studio to journal about this question.  And it was a struggle.  I sat there chewing on the end of my pen and drumming my fingers on a blank page in my journal.  My mind felt blocked.  Instantaneously I could write down what I am.  That was easy to answer, but when it came down to ‘Who is Katherine titles aside’ I was stumped.

Not who is:

Photographer Katherine | Yogi Katherine | Blogger Katherine | Christian Katherine | ‘Who I think others want me to be’ Katherine.

Stripped of all my titles, of all the things that I do, who am I?

Naked and bare.  Who is Soul Katherine?

What is she about?  How does she tick.  What is she scared of?  What are her deepest dreams and desires?  It feels so vulnerable to even allow myself to dig into who that person is.  It feels near impossible then to share with you who I am.

I feel confident in sharing my one-dimensional self with you.  But to write who I am on the inside feels scary.  What if you don’t like her?  Do I like love her?  Do I accept her?  Without my whats am I enough?

After staring at a blank page for what seemed like an hour I timidly started writing a list of who I am.


I believe that I was created by God with purpose, intention, perfectly for a time such as this.  But a lot of times I don’t really live like I was created by the creator of all things.

I wonder how I would be living if I was living as though the above statement were true?

What if I gave myself permission to BE me.

To be the woman God created me to be unapologetically?

What if I allowed myself to be great?

Since I was created this way, why not start living this way?  (As I speak about myself I speak about you too!)

What if we got to know each other as who we are on the inside, not what we do on the outside?

What if we as women (and men) gave each other permission to be great?

Permission to be.

I think we would create a tidal wave of movement in our world.

We are more than a what.  Let’s start living that way.



Sexless in the City

This is Really About That




Graphic by Jenna Kutcher

For a Saturday in October it was unusually warm and sunny.  He asked me to come over and hang out.  He has a huge terrace, and we could sit outside.  There was nothing else that I wanted to do.  But I was shooting a NYC society wedding in Central Park that was going to take up at least the next 15 hours of my day.  We texted back and forth a throughout the day, but I was pretty distracted with shooting.

It was now Monday night, and I hadn’t heard from him since.

“It’s probably over,” I told my friend.

I was pouting on her bed as she was putting laundry away.

She gave me this look like you have got to be kidding me.

“What,” I said, “I haven’t heard from him since Saturday.  He’s probably just over it.”  Over this  [Over me is what I really meant.]

She asked me if I missed him.


Do you want to see him?


Then why don’t you call him?

Because I can’t.





That’s not an answer.

You’re not an answer.  (Yep you don’t have to tell me that’s a good comeback.  I already know).

I wanted him to want to hang out with me.  I wanted him to think of me, miss me, call me.  Didn’t he know that?  Couldn’t he jedi-mind trick me and read my thoughts?

Every time we’ve talked or gone out he has initiated it.

She pointed out though, “Don’t you think he wants you to call him every once in a while?”

But guys are supposed to call.  Make the move.  That’s how relationships are supposed to look aren’t they?  That’s how pursuit looks right?

And this is when it came about that (thank you Rob Bell for the analogy).  It wasn’t really even about him, or hearing from him; it was about something deeper.

It was about my attachment to how I thought it should look.  It was my attachment to feeling safe.

I felt safe in responding to him.  There was hardly any risk involved in that for me because at least I knew in those moments he wanted me.  He liked me, and my guarded heart only wanted him to know I felt the same way if I knew it would be reciprocated.

Me telling him I wanted to see him left me completely exposed.  It would open me up to rejection.

What if he didn’t want me?

What if I wanted him more than he wanted me?

What would that say about me?

I was terrified of putting myself out there, because I was terrified of getting hurt.

CS Lewis put it like this:

To love at all is to be vulnerable.  Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.  If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal.  Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements.  Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.  But in that basket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change.  It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable…to love is to be vulnerable.

Still lying on her bed my friend asked what did I really have to lose?

With little hesitation I responded:  Control.

Control had kept me safe from heartbreak for a long time, but in this moment I started to see that it had also ostracized me from love too.

If I chose to let go, and let another person see me and know me, then I opened myself to possibility.

The possibility of love, beauty, intimacy.

The possibility of heartache, disappointment, rejection.

And again I found myself in a space where it was about him, but it was not about him at all.

I saw those questions and instead of judging myself decided to have compassion for myself.  Underneath those questions was a deeper question:  Am I worth it? And if I believe that God is who He says he is and that he created me in His image, then no person can define my worth.  My worth comes from God.  So in essence I am free to expose my heart to another because their acceptance or rejection of me doesn’t change who I am and what I am worth.(A truth much easier to talk about than to actually walk out in life).

I’ve been so scared of  pain that I’ve shut myself off to feeling anything with a man.

Up until now.

This does not get to be my story anymore.  Now I get an opportunity to make a different choice.

Love is an invitation we receive each moment, every day to choose.  To serve another person, to put their needs first, to listen, to be open, to be patient, to respond instead of react, to speak life and hope and honesty and truth.  Love is to take a step towards another person when I don’t know what their response is going to be. In all of it the invitation is there, yet the choice is mine to make.

And it’s scary, and it’s risky, and it’s much safer to talk about doing than actually doing.  It’s easier for me to just say ‘oh for him it’s probably over’ as opposed for fighting for time with him or just simply putting myself out there to say I miss you.  I want to see you.

And yes I want to be pursued and fought for by a man.  Gosh I want that.  What woman doesn’t?

But love isn’t one sided.  It’s a journey you take hand in hand with another person.  Step by step together.  Each step forward is a step into the unknown. You don’t know how it’s going to work out or if it’s going to last.  The lie is that It’s just vulnerable for me.  Only I could get hurt.  No, we both can.

Love is worth it.  It has to be.

As my sweet and oh so patient friend shoved me out the door later that night she pointed her sassy finger in my face and told me to call him.

On my way home I made a decision to let my guard down with him.  To let go of what may or may not happen.  If I am rejected it will hurt, but it won’t ruin me.  We are quite resilient beings.  I decided I was going to join him on the journey.  Make steps towards towards him and towards the unknown too, and I was so scared.

I picked up my phone and we talked.  Timidly I said I missed him, and I wanted to see him, and asked can we see each other tomorrow.  He said of course, and he couldn’t wait to see me.

The next night we met at Union Square to go to drinks.

There were people blurring all around us, rushing to make the next L train, hailing cabs, carrying yoga mats and grocery bags, but I stood there and on the inside felt peaceful and sure.

Not sure of the outcome, or what would come of us, but sure that I was ready to let myself be seen and known.  Something I hadn’t done in years.

As he walked up and kissed me on the cheek it was almost physical.

I could feel my walls come down.

So it was about hearing from him, but it wasn’t even about that.

It was about me telling him I missed him, and yet it wasn’t so much about that.

And it was about grabbing drinks in-between meetings on a Tuesday night, but really it was about so much more.