I’ve always loved RuPaul’s Drag Race — the drama, the glamour, the tears, and especially those moments at the end of the season when the queens look back and tell their younger selves what they’ve learned. Today, I want to do the same. But this isn’t about sequins or lip-syncs; this is about you, 26-year-old me. The one who just quit her job and decided to follow a vision she barely understood.

So, first… thank you.

Thank you for realizing that the place you were in wasn’t right for you. Thank you for noticing that boredom, irritation, and that little voice whispering, “This isn’t it,” were not just fleeting feelings — they were signposts. And thank you for doing something about it, instead of accepting “this is just how it is.”

I still don’t fully understand how you did it. You didn’t have confidence. You didn’t have a roadmap. And yet, you had audacity. A wild, inexplicable belief in a vision that only you could see. You weren’t sure if anyone else would get it, or even if it could work. But you had that spark, that “let’s try this and see what happens” kind of energy. And somehow… it worked.

The first few years? Brutal. Brutal in ways that are hard to explain. Every week, sometimes every day, you wanted to quit. You cried in your apartment thinking: “I’m not a business person. This isn’t me. Maybe I was wrong.”

But here’s the thing: you kept going.

You kept going through the fear, through the exhaustion, through the uncertainty. And in the process, you transformed. You grew in confidence, in boundaries, in creativity. You discovered resilience you didn’t know you had. You learned how to trust your instincts, even when the logic screamed “stop.” You learned to listen to mentors, to your friends, and to yourself — and you kept building.

And what you built? It’s not just a clothing line. It’s a home. A space where people feel seen, heard, and understood. A place where they don’t have to shrink themselves or hide who they are to fit into something that’s “normal.” Wide hips? Feeling unsure? All of that became irrelevant. MAS Montréal became a space where people could just be — fully themselves — while wearing something that actually celebrates them.

And somehow, without even realizing it at the time, you gave others the safety, the understanding, and the love you’d been longing for your whole life. That’s wild. And beautiful.

Along the way, you learned things you’ll keep forever: how to trust your vision, how to hold your ground, how to be creative under pressure, and how to respect your sensitivity as a strength rather than a liability. You learned patience. You learned joy in the process, even when it was terrifying. And most importantly, you learned that fear doesn’t have to stop you — it can be a compass pointing you toward the life you were meant to live.

So, 26-year-old me… I want you to hear this: keep going. Keep showing up. Keep building your vision, even when it feels impossible. You’ll meet your people. You’ll find your tribe. You’ll create magic in ways you can’t even imagine yet. And someday, when you look back, you’ll realize that everything you were scared of, every tear, every doubt, was shaping you into the person who could make this vision real.

Oh, and one last thing — don’t forget to enjoy the ride. Cry when you need to. Celebrate when you can. Laugh at the absurdity of it all. And remember: shantay, you stay… in your vision.

Thank you for taking that leap of faith. Thank you for trusting yourself, even when the world seemed unsure. I love you. I respect you. And I promise… you were braver than you knew, and you’re just getting started.

Mckenna -XXX-