Meg Parrott: “I went freelance when my dream job was breaking me”

When writer and facilitator Meg Parrott landed a fashion copywriting role six months before she’d even graduated, she couldn’t believe it. But just three years later, she stepped away from the industry altogether. Here she explains why.

Today, Meg’s work looks very different from the early fashion role she stepped into at a multi-brand retailer. While it had its occasional shiny moments, the day-to-day was far less glamorous than it appeared from the outside. Following recent ADHD and Autism diagnoses, Meg has been learning how to build a creative life that works with her brain rather than against it.

Now based in Manchester and working independently, she writes across fashion, culture and design for clients such as Nike, adidas and the Manchester Fashion Institute. She’s also moving further into women’s football and socially-rooted brand work, while developing writing-led workshops shaped by her involvement with queer organisations in the city. And she’s so much happier.

When did you first realise you were creative and what drew you into this industry?
I grew up in a small coastal town in the South East, so fashion wasn’t something I was around at all. My interest in it started through a cultural lens – mostly from the old Audrey Hepburn films I watched with my Mum as a child. Then in my early teens I fell headfirst into Tumblr, discovering Man Repeller, Susie Bubble, Tavi Gevinson and Style Rookie – the golden era of digital writing, in my opinion. That soon turned into travelling to the next town to buy Teen Vogue and watching America’s Next Top Model to teach myself as much as I could at 14 about fashion publishing.

Did it feel like an achievable career at the time?
Going to a rural comprehensive school made the fashion and publishing industries feel like a world away.

I was discouraged from pursuing a career in these areas by my Sixth Form careers team. Luckily, I did have amazing art teachers who really pushed me, had faith in me, and helped me to see the value that creativity and an arts education has. They encouraged me to apply to art college and from there I applied for a degree in Art Direction for fashion when I was 19, moving across the country to study in Manchester. The rest is history.

What did your “dream job” look like at the time?
From the day I knew fashion writers existed, my biggest ambition was to be one – it was all I’d wanted to do. With a year and a half of my degree spent in lockdown, achieving that felt impossible. I did countless internships, courses and classes online to compensate. After being made redundant from a retail job during furlough and needing to pay my bills, I applied for full-time roles out of desperation. So when I landed a fashion copywriting job six months before graduating in 2021, I genuinely couldn’t believe it.

A cultural piece for SEVENSTORE.com

After a year under E-commerce, I moved onto the Creative team. I had amazing mentorship and was suddenly writing for brands like New Balance and Carhartt WIP, to Raf Simons, Rick Owens and Arc’teryx; interviewing designers and musicians; pitching editorials; and working on set or in the studio.

It felt huge because years of learning my craft, doing unpaid projects, taking extra courses, submitting university assignments alone in my bedroom during the pandemic and moving from my childhood village with no connections had all led to that moment. Juggling the job with finishing my degree was intense, but there was no way I was turning it down. I remember getting the offer letter and thinking, “yes, finally – it’s all been worth it.”

I’m still incredibly grateful for the people and companies I worked with. Those experiences taught me how to speak with, not for, the audiences you write for and how to deliver compelling campaigns from start to finish. To have gotten my foot in the door at all, especially during the pandemic, is something I’ve never taken for granted.

You were living the “dream”, so what made you start to question it?
The whole point of the fashion industry is for it to look glamorous, so it’s easy for people not to see the day-to-day operations that can be the complete opposite. The moments that made me question it weren’t the emails, admin, logistics, meetings or travelling — the groundwork is part and parcel of any job.

It was the speed and demand to do everything in no time at all, while juggling tasks every day that I wasn’t being paid or recognised for, and the expectation that I should cope with all of that perfectly with little to no support.

And when did you start to realise it was breaking you?
I was burning out for a good two years before deciding to leave, but the penny dropped when I realised that everything going on alongside my writing made the one thing I love more than anything impossible.

I felt hugely overworked and undervalued; spoken down to; and made to feel embarrassed if I slipped up. Expectations placed on me felt harsher than on others. I was expected to work at 110mph or else I wasn’t passionate enough. I ended up doing a role above my training, pay grade, job description and title, with little recognition.

And despite starting ADHD testing – which my workplace knew about – I didn’t feel like I could comfortably discuss reasonable adjustments. All of these factors chipped away at me over time. By the end, I was a shell of myself.

Over those two years, I realised I was breaking because I was no longer a version of myself – personally or professionally – that I recognised or was proud of. I wasn’t doing my best work; I was irritable, exhausted and crying a lot. Toward the end, I dreaded going in.

Stepping back didn’t just feel like leaving a job, but stepping back from a dream of mine. Writing gives me a deep sense of purpose, enjoyment and fulfilment, and because I was lucky enough to do that for my job – and knowing the hard work I’d put in – I stayed far longer than I probably should have. I didn’t want to leave, but I felt like I had to.

How did you find the courage to actually leave?
‘Courage’ is an interesting word choice, because at the time I felt desperate. I don’t think I felt brave. Actually, I was bricking it. It’s only in the last few months I’ve begun to understand the gravity that comes with leaving something that wasn’t healthy for me. I actually left to go into a job in PR, but after a few months, it didn’t work out. I remember feeling like I’d completely and utterly fallen from grace. Ending up without a job unexpectedly really meant going freelance was a necessity. It wasn’t an obvious career move that came with a string of accolades, awards, bylines and contacts, and a calendar of jobs meaning I was booked up in no time. Truthfully, I would’ve only tried freelancing if I’d been in the industry for many, many years more.

What was the transition like into freelancing full-time?
Even now, only about a year or so into freelance life, I’ve questioned myself, my choices and my abilities, and have regretted leaving my fashion job at times. I’m still trying to find comfort in that learning – to loosen the reins, trust myself and embrace something new.

I don’t earn a great deal of money and still figure things out as I go but I don’t see this as a sign of failure. “It takes time to build castles,” as my friends and I often say to each other. You have to be accountable, responsible, driven and incredibly disciplined – more so than I’d ever thought I would have to be. It felt very overwhelming at first. My ‘dream’ job taught me the ropes, how to truly work hard and apply myself, but, what I fundamentally don’t want.. This is the career chapter that has truly taught me resilience and what I do want and do deserve. This transition has encouraged me to look inwardly into what I want, who I am, and what my purpose is creatively: to focus on authentic storytelling with teams who believe the same.

Freelancing has also been an attempt to repair the relationship I have with working creatively, and even, with myself. It’s provided the chance for me to throw myself into passion projects, and I’m so grateful to have had that.

Speaking at the Get Your Kits Out x Schuh Panel Talk

Now, my sleep is infinitely better, I’m less stressed, I no longer feel depressed at work, my social life, health and wellbeing is better and a more balanced part of my life. My weeks are spent writing articles for independent magazines and platforms across fashion, design, music and culture, or copy for clients, alongside having pockets of time to study new things I’m interested in. I’ve even been able to do university guest lectures and workshops in fashion comms, and panel talks for the first time.

Being a creative freelancer based in the North, too, is also something I’m incredibly proud of. The creative communities here inspire me everyday.. There is so much artistic spirit thriving outside of London, and to meet, lean on, and learn from gifted freelancers from across Greater Manchester, Liverpool, West Yorkshire, in between and beyond, has been a really special part of freelancing.

Since being diagnosed with ADHD and Autism, what’s changed most about how you approach work, success, and even yourself?
The archetypal ADHD brain is wired to thrive on energy, chatter and constant ideas. I think it’s been a double-edged sword when it comes to my practice, as I love the social, bouncing-of-ideas side of creative work. (Looking back, I think that’s why I was inadvertently wired for my first job – because it was so full on in regard to speed and output. The pace of it paired with my ADHD also tricked me into thinking that was sustainable and healthy.) It means coming to terms with having a constant wheel in my brain. I find rest incredibly difficult. I have some days where my brain feels like it physically aches, like muscles do after an intense workout, although I often feel like I’m not doing enough.

Yet, I thrive on routine and schedule my weeks to the hour even though freelancing isn’t massively about that, by nature. So, finding kinship with how my Autism and ADHD manifest and trying to work with it where I can, as opposed to against it, has massively impacted how I approach work as well as the role it plays in my life. This is because the nature of freelance work has allowed me to try to really figure out what the modes of working that I actually thrive off of actually are.

Having only gotten my diagnosis last year after years of trying, this chapter of my life is still primitive. But, I feel like if I decide to step back into a 9-5, I can now advocate for my needs as a neurodiverse person. I hope that hiring staff can better support their teams in deciphering what they need at work with respect and dignity, especially considering how fraught the climate is these days for neurodiverse people accessing support, so burnout isn’t as common.

A recent commission by women’s football magazine, GIRLFANS

What does success look like for you today?
Before, ‘success’ for me was titles, clients and salary. It was easier for me to feel I was on the path to it when I had appraisals and check-ins, tangible goals set with my manager and a structured team. With freelance that’s not really there. And, success can often feel harder to achieve and define .So, it’s been hard at times to feel like I’m doing what’s best for setting up a ‘successful’ career when wins feel smaller, different, and quieter. 

Now, my view of ‘success’ lies in the professional relationships that I forge and the one I have with myself personally; how well work fits into my life, not around it; and, how much I like and can manage the work I’m doing. In the long run, I truly believe that’s more important. I’ve also come to realise how important everyday and non-quantifiable wins are. Like how imperative routine and movement are for me to feel my best and self-regulate; how much my Autism is greatly affected by environmental stimuli; and what my productive forms of relief are for when things get overwhelming. 

If someone reading this is realising their dream job doesn’t feel right anymore, what would you want to say to them?
I think to say, “just leave,” is quite a privileged position to take. There’s bills to be paid and security to consider. I know it’s not that simple. Something that’s worth considering is: is it your practice that’s being challenged, or your inherent sense of self? As passionate people who design for living, it can be easy for ego to sometimes get in the way when we put so much of ourselves into it.

But, our work is supposed to be challenged, questioned and pushed. I think that’s what can bring out our best. I’m not saying settle, but I do believe in leaving your ego at the door, putting in hard work and trying to make your mark in what you do. If, however, you're leaving the office feeling like your integrity, talent and self-worth is being questioned, I feel like there’s a big difference. Are you being pushed to get the best out of you, or pushed too far that the worst parts of you are showing?

Try to chase purpose, not titles. It’s fine for dreams to change. Sometimes they need to.