The Wardrobe of Other People’s Coats.
My business boomed when I was myself, and slowed to zero when I tried to be loud.
My first ever LinkedIn headshot was me in a grey polo neck, hair scraped straight back into a bun, minimal makeup, and what can only be described as a dry, corporate smile. I thought that’s what you were supposed to look like on LinkedIn. Stiff. Grey. Serious.
It took almost no time at all to realise that wasn’t how people actually showed up there, so I changed everything. My profile picture got colourful, my actual voice came through, I was me. Friendly, funny, sometimes flirty, sometimes silly. I wrote posts that were alternative lyrics to songs purely so they’d get stuck in people’s heads. I didn’t have a massive agenda, I just turned up as myself.
My business absolutely boomed.
And then I made a decision that, with hindsight, I’d politely describe as a mistake.
The wardrobe of other people’s coats
I started watching other women in the online business world getting big. And when I say big, I mean impressions, engagement, audience size, all the metrics that look impressive on a screen. And I decided I needed to be more like them.
In my head, I built them up into something I wasn’t. More to say, stronger than me, more controversial than me, louder than me. I decided they must be less silly than me, less soft, less whimsical. Less, basically, like me. None of that was actually true, looking back, they were every bit as warm and human as anyone. It was the story I told myself to explain why they were thriving and I felt like I was standing still.
So I set out to become more like them, I went looking for my anger. I tried to find a message that made me feel enraged enough to shout about it, because that’s what seemed to convert online. The honest truth is it’s not that I don’t have opinions, I have plenty. Lots of political beliefs, lots of viewpoints on the state of the world, and my family will happily tell you I’m not shy about sharing them with people I trust. But my outward facing persona has never really been about that, because for me it’s not what feels true. I’m just not someone who shouts much, even when I’ve got every right to.
I tried anyway. I tried on so many different hats, so many content formulas, took advice from anyone who’d give it, and somewhere in amongst all that trying, I went from being a woman building a six figure business on her way to multiple six figures, to a woman who hadn’t signed a new client in months.
I don’t want to put a number on that, because I’m still finding my way back from it, but I’ll be honest enough to say it’s been a significant slowdown, and significant enough that it took me a while to actually understand what had happened.
The gap that gave it away.
For a long time I genuinely couldn’t work out why. The engagement on LinkedIn looked fine. People were telling me I was smashing it, that the content was great, that they loved what I was putting out. But nobody was booking calls. Nobody was converting. The interest had dried up while the compliments kept rolling in, and that gap should have told me everything sooner than it did.
What finally made it click was the existing clients. The ones already in my world, already on calls with me, already seeing the version of me that shows up in real conversations rather than carefully constructed posts. The truth is I genuinely cannot be anything other than myself in a live situation. I don't have the energy or the inclination to perform in real time. So on calls, in voice notes, in actual conversation, they were still getting the real me. And they were still saying exactly what they'd always said.
“I chose you because you feel safe.”
“I know I’ll be looked after with you.”
“You feel like someone I can rely on.”
That used to be the compliment I got on every single discovery call, back when my business was thriving. And it hadn’t gone anywhere, it just wasn’t reaching anyone new, because the version of me they’d have found online wasn’t the version saying those things in real life.
Watching it happen to other women too
Something else has played into coming back to myself too. Some of my quieter clients, women who are doing phenomenally well, genuinely phenomenally, will get on a call with me and tell me they don’t feel like enough. That they should be doing more, being louder, having stronger opinions, coming across as confidently on camera as someone else they follow, not caring as much what people think, having the follower count of whoever they’re comparing themselves to.
And every time, I think: but look at what you’ve built, look at what you’re already doing.
Helping them see that what they are is already enough, that we can absolutely strive for what’s next without turning ourselves completely inside out to get there, has become something I care deeply about. Turns out my actual spice was being nice all along. Not just for me, for all of us doing this slightly more polite version of success and wondering if it counts.
And you know what? I had roughly a quarter of the LinkedIn connections that most of my clients had, and I hit six figures before any of them. Audience size was never the thing, it never has been.
What I actually believe now
I need to be clear that this isn’t a story about staying small or never trying anything new. Developing yourself, pushing your own edges, trying new formats and new ideas, all of that is healthy and good and I’d never tell anyone to stop growing. There are still days you’ll catch me feeling a bit spicier than usual, and that’s allowed too. We all have our moments.
The difference is whether the new thing you’re trying is actually you stretching, or you wearing somebody else’s coat because theirs looked like it fit better than yours.
I admired those louder, more controversial women, I still do. They’re wonderful, genuinely, and what they’ve built deserves real respect. But admiring someone and needing to become them are two completely different things, and I spent a good chunk of time confusing the two. Their power and my power were never the same shape. That was never actually a problem until I decided it was.
It took my business slowing down to almost nothing to make me see it properly. Pretending to be somebody else didn’t make me more successful. It sabotaged me, while I told myself I was just evolving. And it led me, eventually, to burnout.
What I landed on instead is this: ownership of who you are is the whole thing. Not as a slogan, as something I’m genuinely, deeply passionate about, both for myself and for the women I work with every single day.
You don’t need to be louder to be heard, you don’t need a stronger opinion to have impact, you don’t need anyone else’s coat. What you need is to be visible in the way that’s actually you, not the way someone else made look like the only option. The coat you’re already wearing was tailored for you, and it fits better than you think.
Lois Bates—Stubbs is the founder of Mavenly, a VA and EA agency based in Manchester. She works with women in business who are ready to stop carrying everything alone.