What does it mean to own your image? How do perceptions, biases, and expectations shape the way we move through the world? Caroline Pedrazzini explores these questions through her personal journey from finance into the creative space, offering a personal reflection on reclaiming identity and challenging societal projections:
What kept you from pursuing modeling as a teenager?
I grew up in a highly strict environment where modeling was not widely embraced. From an early age, I became aware of the scrutiny placed on my appearance. My looks were often framed as a problem: something to control or tame, leaving me self-conscious and confused— Was my appearance something to suppress and be cautious of, or could it be something I embraced—even built a career around?
Some people around me saw modeling as an opportunity, and despite my family’s disapproval, I eventually signed with an agency. But I quickly stopped; I felt too rigid, and trapped between wanting to explore this path and the deep-seated internalized belief that my appearance was something to be managed, not celebrated. Choosing an academic path and pursuing a career in finance seemed like a way to detach from that scrutiny. But the tension remained—between external expectations and the person I was becoming.
How did your time in finance shape how you viewed yourself and the understanding of the Muse?
Working in finance was both challenging and transformative, playing a key role in developing my inner confidence and resilience. As I pursued the academic route, I began to see myself more holistically—growing more confident in my professional interactions and increasingly detached from others’ opinions. I was approachable, believing I remained in control and would not be defined by my image nor would it be an obstacle. But it quickly became clear that others saw it differently—they weaponized it at every opportunity—to accuse me, to discredit me, and to deny me opportunities. It was the ultimate paradox—I was punished for not taking advantage of my sexuality, yet accused because of it. And the less I cared about others’ opinions, the more they made it their problem. Like I was some kind of anarchist that needed to be managed with caution.
Some friends offered well-meaning yet confusing advice: ‘Stop going for coffee with men, and thinking it is a business meeting. You are leading them on‘ But how was I supposed to build a career while constantly walking a fine line. Some had insisisted that networking and likeability were prerequisites for success, others advised me to be cold and distant. Everyone was constantly giving me contradictory advice and I had to constantly adapt—mirroring others, mastering likeability, pretending and walking on eggshells. An exhausting survival mechanism that came at a high cost: in particular my authenticity and my voice. More resentment and anger against the system, more accusations.
Eventually, my ambition was entirely reframed as something sinister: I was labeled as power-hungry, cold, and manipulative. These perceptions extended beyond my career into my personal life, where I was suddenly too assertive, too ambitious, too confrontational. Finally, people resorted to the easiest way to discredit me: sexualization.
These experiences reopened old wounds tied to my identity and image, forcing me to confront the deeper implications of visibility, perception, and control. My initial sense of shame morphed into deep-seated anger toward the system, which eventually gave way to frustration, awareness, and an understanding of the structural biases at play. Worse, I was confronted with the realization that some people weren’t just indifferent to my success—they were actively invested in my failure. Their accusations weren’t just rooted in gender bias and misogyny, but in fear—fear that I would finally break from the cycle and use my voice.
This was the moment I began to question my place in the business world. Had I chosen the wrong sector? Or was every industry just built on these same impossible contradictions?
How Did You End Up Involved in Modeling, and How Did It Impact Your View of the Muse Figure?
Leaving finance, I wanted to reconnect with my creative side and gain a deeper, more intangible understanding of fashion. What began as a creative exploration soon became a profound experience that reshaped my mental health, my interactions with the world, and my understanding of self.
I realized that the constant accusations and projections placed onto me had never been my fault. Even when I played small in the past—when I tried to be invisible—people still projected their own perceptions, fantasies, and narratives onto me. Worse, my silence only gave them more permission to control the narrative, justify their treatment of me and interpretate my weakness as an excuse to bully me further.
What truly mattered was my response—whether I let those projections define me, internalized them as guilt, or took ownership of my own narrative. Ultimately, it wasn’t about changing how others saw me—it was about removing the shame, guilt, or fear attached to how I was perceived.
Was this a reversal? No—I saw it as evolution. It wasn’t about reclaiming my image in the way others expected, but about breaking free from imposed expectations and moving toward creation.
Ultimately, creativity became my way of healing, reclaiming, and redefining my identity. One of the most rewarding aspects of this experience has been the ability to explore my creativity more openly. It led to deep introspection and inspired new creative projects—something I hadn’t realized I needed to pursue more actively in order to feel truly fulfilled.
This serves as a reminder of the complexity of navigating power, image, and identity—the nuanced struggles we constantly face within a system that is, at its core, fundamentally contradictory.
