- Julia Fernsby moved to New York City from Ireland right after college to work in fashion.
- Her dream job was not what she envisioned, and the city felt overwhelming and unfriendly.
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Julia Fernsby, a 34-year-old UX/UI and graphic designer based in Cohasset, Massachusetts. It's been edited for length and clarity.
Right after college, I moved to take what I thought was my dream job in New York City. I've always been into fashion — I was one of those teenagers who'd save up to buy Vogue once a month.
At 12, my family and I went to visit my aunt in Boston for Christmas and we took a drive to New York. I fell in love with the city immediately; I wanted to go to Central Park and ice skate and do all the other cliché things actors did in movies.
I lived in Howth, a seaside town next to Dublin, Ireland, and felt stuck. Studying in Dublin made life more exciting, but I was commuting every day which made it hard to hang out with friends from school.
After college, I found a beginner position in a fashion magazine based in New York. It required an extensive portfolio and an interview through Skype. After the first stage of recruitment, I was asked to fly to New York for an in-person interview and got the job. It really felt like a miracle.
I decided to move to NYC immediately
I rented an Airbnb for the first two weeks — a small room in Brooklyn. Staying there on my own felt a bit scary; I had to get used to traveling alone by subway and walking alone at night. I carried pepper spray with me at all times.
New York's energy initially thrilled me, but the daily commute through dense crowds back to Brooklyn quickly became overwhelming. I remember going into Manhattan by subway on the weekend to do some sightseeing and accidentally stepping on a man with a syringe in his arm. He was just lying there on the stairs, and no one stopped to help him or even looked.
I didn't know what to do. I was terrified and thought, "There's no way you leave a person like that." But I followed the crowd in the end, and felt really bad about it.
My coworkers reminded me of Regina George in 'Mean Girls'
The New Yorkers I came into contact with — especially the ones that worked in fashion — weren't the friendliest bunch. If someone smiled at me, it didn't feel genuine. I never managed to have a good heart-to-heart with anyone.
I felt very judged at work. I was a bit heavier than other girls. I wasn't tall, didn't wear makeup, and had a funny accent. I tried to fit in with my clothing, but I wasn't financially stable and couldn't afford extravagant shopping. I wore similar clothes but in worse-quality material. I couldn't afford a good hairdresser.
I felt like a bad copy of others. I really wanted to fit in and make some friends, but I kept feeling rejected. Sometimes coworkers would make fun of my accent to my face, mimicking it in a stereotypical way. Maybe it was supposed to be funny, but it felt hurtful.
My mental health began to deteriorate
By this time I had a roommate, and she was no better. Anytime I'd ask her if she wanted to hang out, she'd say she was busy.
That plus the anxiety from the chaos of the city took a toll on me. Irish culture is very friendly — we say hi to strangers in the elevator. I often felt confused or stupid because of the cultural differences.
After ignoring it for three months, I started having panic attacks and my mental health started to deteriorate. My job was stressful, but the biggest problem was the mindset difference. Back home, you'd finish work at 5 p.m., go for a beer with your coworkers, and have a lazy evening at home. In NYC, it felt like there was no time to rest, no time to party, no time to meet any people.
My New York dream had turned into a nightmare
I was alone when I woke up, alone when I ate lunch, alone at work, alone at home.
I missed my family and friends. I talked to my mom on the phone almost every day, but it wasn't enough.
Sometimes I'd go visit my family in Boston for a weekend and it helped, but usually I'd be too tired to do anything on the weekend and preferred to stay in bed and watch "Gossip Girl."
I hated my shitty apartment, my cold roommate, my mean coworkers, the crowd, the smell, the feeling of unsafety.
I also wasn't developing at all: The job that was supposed to be cool turned out to be very mundane and dissatisfying, and my creative input was mostly ignored.
New York is a great city — if you find your home there
I loved the mix of cultures and cuisine, and people's fashion sense. I loved going to MoMA and libraries and taking walks in Central Park on the weekends. But it would've been so much better if I had someone to share these experiences with.
One of my friends from college came to visit me for a week and it was a lot of fun. It made me realize how much I was missing by living like a hermit. Three weeks after her visit, I decided to quit the whole thing.
I was back home after six months in New York.
A year later, I found my new calling. My college mentor and I went out for a coffee and she suggested I do extensive research on what kind of job I'd enjoy. She insisted I look at the tasks I'd be performing daily, instead of how the idea sounded — probably the best advice I've ever been given.
I realized that web page design was interesting to me, and there were a lot of jobs connected to that. I did a short internship and learned how to incorporate my graphic designing skills into UI, which I enjoyed. Once I was in a dynamic environment that required a lot of learning and creativity, I began to feel professionally fulfilled.
Don't be afraid to pivot — and be sure to remember what matters
I would advise others in a similar position to consider pivoting just like me. It's important to let go of anger and disappointment as soon as possible. Sometimes we get so fixated on an idea that we forget about what actually matters.
Just because your dream was different than reality doesn't mean you'll never find a purpose. It's not about meeting some imaginary vision; it's about having a good life.