Me and my Sonny Angel
November 7th, 2025
Photo: Matilda Taylor
Writer: Tessa Tacoma
Editor: Isabelle Evans
It feels like every time I get on Instagram, I see a new “girl” I should strive to be. Clean girl, coquette girl, baddie girl, and on and on. The idea is that we girls are supposed to pick an aesthetic, stick to it, and maybe even buy the right Owala to match. It’s like a costume or a uniform, and we are expected to nail every detail. For a while, I tried playing along, keeping my beaded Halloween crewnecks and Hello Kitty figurines tucked deep in my closet as they didn't match the mature/classy girl aesthetic I was striving to portray. I genuinely love tapping into that vibe, and there’s a part of me that enjoys feeling polished and elevated, but it’s just not who I am all day, every day. For weeks, I’ve been staring at Sonny Angels, admiring them and wishing I could have one, but feeling like having one would be confusing or contradictory to the vibe I had going on. Almost like I would lose all credibility for the inauthentic image I had been upholding if I bought something a bit childish.
But here’s the thing–none of this is real. The idea that you need to align your entire personality around a single template is exhausting and, honestly, boring. The more I caught myself hesitating to purchase things like a fluffy pen, a bedazzled vampire water bottle, or a Victoria's Secret plush dog, the more I realized I was voluntarily forcing myself in a box. And for what? Approval from strangers who are also playing dress-up every morning? I finally bought the Sonny Angel, half because I wanted it and half to prove to myself that my identity is not defined by a singular aesthetic.
And guess what, putting that little figurine on my computer did not actually cause the collapse of my image, it actually made me happier (imagine that). It’s proof that you actually can exist in the overlap of countless aesthetics. Today I’m carefully curated with my silky hair, cardigan, and Alani Nu, but yesterday I was a bum with my stained 2xl sweatshirt and messy bun–and both times I felt like Tessa! Why should I have to pick one thing, one “girl” to be, and stick with that forever? News flash: I don't. And not everyone has to understand.
Sometimes I have to check in with myself and ask, Do I honestly like this, or am I just choosing it because it fits the version of me I think I’m supposed to be? It’s so easy to default to what “makes sense” for the aesthetic you think you’re embodying and overlook the things that genuinely catch your eye. The real freedom comes when you let yourself like what you like, no explanation required. Too many people are so worried about sticking to some script or perfectly edited image that they never let their real interests shine. If other people want to stick to their box, that’s fine, but I’m not going to confine myself to one. Our tastes are allowed to be all over the place: messy, layered, and sometimes a bit uncanny. If anyone is confused about my taste, that is truly not my problem. I don’t have to make sense to anyone but myself. Let people misunderstand you, let them try to figure you out, let them think you’re unpredictable or random. Honestly, me and my Sonny Angel are doing just fine.
