Signed, A Recovering Perfectionist

My mom always says that even as a little kid, I was a perfectionist. I've always been deliberate and intentional, and apparently that started early. I didn't walk until I was 16 months old, but when I finally decided I was ready, I cruised clear across the room like I'd been doing it forever.

As a kid, my space was always neat and organized. Sharing a room with my much messier sister bothered me so much that I actually put tape across the middle of the room so her chaos could be separated from my order. My drawers were filled with neatly folded clothes. I washed my stuffed animals regularly. I was committed.

Creativity and Perfectionism Make Interesting Roommates

I've sometimes wondered whether we're born creative, or whether the calling to make things comes from somewhere else entirely. I still love Elizabeth Gilbert's TED Talk about creative genius for exactly this reason.

For me, the desire to make things has always felt like some essential part of who I am. I spent hours after school drawing with pencil and paper or covering my walls with collages made from magazine clippings. At school, art class was where I found my zone, my zen and the place where my brain made the most sense.

The complicated part is that creativity and perfectionism have always been closely connected for me. High standards can make you care deeply about the work. They can make you notice the tiny details and keep working until something feels right. They can also make you so afraid of getting something wrong that you don't start at all.

I was the kid who came home and rewrote all of my notes so they looked neat and tidy. I would rewrite a composition two or three times because I wanted every sentence to sound exactly right. As I got older and built a career around making things, I eventually had to recognize that some of the same instincts that made me meticulous could also hold me back.

When Perfect Started Getting in the Way

About four or five years into my career, a friend and colleague asked why I wasn't exhibiting at NY NOW, one of the major trade shows in our industry. I told her I was worried we wouldn't be able to handle the production if it went well. That was technically true, but underneath it was something else: the whole thing felt so overwhelming that I was scared to try.

How would I make the booth look good enough? Was the collection cohesive enough? What if I made the investment and something went wrong? I was so focused on everything that could be imperfect that I didn't recognize I was also putting limits on how much the business could grow.

In 2013, I finally did it. I signed up for NY NOW and another major event in Los Angeles called Dwell on Design. I worked endlessly on the booth, the collection and all of the details I had spent years worrying about, and then we completely blew it out of the park on the first day of both shows.

Looking back, of course I've wondered what would have happened if I'd started sooner. Would I have been further along? Maybe. But I've also realized that question isn't particularly useful. I started when I was ready, the same way I apparently decided to walk clear across the room at 16 months old.

Twenty-One Years of Learning to Let Go

Building CMD over the past 21 years has required me to loosen my grip on perfection in ways I couldn't have imagined when I started. You can't grow a business while controlling every detail yourself, and one of the most important things I've learned is how much better the work can become when you trust other talented people to bring themselves to it.

I'm incredibly proud of the small all-women CMD team we've built. As the designer and creative director, I still care deeply about the details, but I've gotten much better at knowing which ones actually matter. My desk gets cluttered. Things don't always happen exactly the way I pictured them. Somehow, the world keeps turning.

And to be fair to perfectionism, I don't want to get rid of it entirely. Those instincts are part of why I care so much about proportion, finish, craftsmanship and the tiny decisions that can make a piece of jewelry feel right. High standards have absolutely contributed to the business I've built.

What I've had to learn is the difference between caring deeply and demanding perfection. One makes the work better. The other can keep you from making anything at all.

Still Recovering

I originally wrote this in 2023 and called myself a recovering perfectionist. Three years later, I'd say that's still accurate. I'm not sure there's a graduation ceremony for this particular recovery program.

But I've gotten much better at letting something be a little messy, trying before I know exactly how it will turn out and accepting that sometimes the only way to figure something out is to begin. After more than two decades of designing jewelry and running a creative business, I'm increasingly convinced that some of the best things I've made happened because I was willing to leave a little room for surprise.

So long, perfect everything. I'll keep the high standards, but the mess can stay too. It keeps things interesting.

Still learning to leave a little room for chaos,
Colleen

© Colleen Mauer Designs. All rights reserved.
Published: February 13, 2023
Updated: August 23, 2026