How Amina Akhtar Changed Her Life at 40

Photo by Orlando Pelagio

By Leslie Price

Amina Akhtar is one of the original digital fashion editors. She was the founding editor of New York Magazine’s fashion vertical The Cut, and she’s also worked at Vogue, Elle.com, and Style.com (RIP). Her first novel, #FashionVictim, came out in 2018. We spoke a few weeks ago about changing careers, working in fashion, moving back in with your parents in your 40s, learning from failure, and more.

Tell me about the beginning of your career. What were your aspirations?

I always wanted to write. But when you have immigrant parents, you have to make sure you have a job lined up. It was drilled into me that if I was going to be a writer, I need to be able to make money and pay my rent. I went into journalism in high school. I was laser-focused. [Then] I went to NYU, mainly because I wanted to get the heck out of Texas at the time, [and] I got a job fact-checking at Vogue straight out of college. An assistant position opened up for the managing editor and I got the job. It was one of those right place-right time [things]. From there, it was almost ... I couldn't get a job except in fashion. I wanted to branch out a few times, try other areas, but you get pigeonholed in the journalism world. I felt a little stuck for most of my career, which sounds crazy because on the outside, I'm getting these [big] jobs and building websites. But internally, I felt like this isn't what I want.

I just stuck with it, for better or for worse. There were definitely moments when I was like, "What the hell am I doing?" This is the late ‘90s to the early 2010s. If you weren't tall, white, thin, and rich, you really didn't get very far. I was the opposite. I'm short, I'm brown, I'm curvy, wearing two pairs of Spanx to work every day. I was miserable and I know I made people around me miserable. I feel terrible about that.

Was there a point where you were unhappy in a job that, from the outside, looked like the pinnacle of success? 

I had a very difficult boss who would text me horrible things on my downtime on weekends. He was British and I was supposed to be a good, docile Asian, I guess. I wasn't, and I would get lectured for how I would speak and do anything, even if it was with my personal time. I was very proud of the work I did, but I was so deeply unhappy. I quit the first chance I could with something lined up because it's New York and you got to pay rent.

Then I was working at a startup and Elle called me. At the same time, my mom had gotten sick. She loved that I had these jobs because to her, this is unfathomable. She's from a small village in Pakistan. I felt pressure to keep going because I wanted her to be proud of me. So I was working at Elle, and then my mom passed and I fully shut down. Then I got laid off. I was like, "Oh, okay. I can stay in bed now. This is cool." I was a little shocked because it was my first public layoff [and] people were talking about it. 

I'm dealing with this massive grief for my mom and I don't know what to do with myself. People were writing blog articles about the fact that I tweeted "Just got laid off." I bounced around and got a couple jobs that I didn't want. At the same time, I wasn't really leaving my apartment. I decided, "Why don't I just work on a book?" I'd had this idea for years that I thought it would be really funny. That's how all my ideas start. Wouldn't it be funny if you have a serial killer in the fashion world and no one thinks it's her because nobody thinks fashion girls are smart?

So I sat down for a year and I wrote. I didn't know how to write a book. I knew how to write blog posts, so that's how I wrote. I would write 1,000 words and come back and turn it into 1,500 and then come back [again]. Slowly, it turned into a book. I managed to get an agent and everything. Then I got turned down by every publisher for about two years. When people talk about rejection, I'm like, "Oh, yeah, I got that. I got that in spades, y'all." 

I could wallpaper my house with the rejections. It was amazing. At the same time, I was finding it harder and harder to get a day job because I was too senior. Why hire me when you could hire somebody who is 25 and getting a fourth of my salary? And my dad was by himself living in the mountains of Arizona. I was like, "I'm the only unmarried one. I'm the one who has to go do this." So I packed my things, got my dog, and we moved out to Arizona, of all places, at the end of 2016.

Did the move make it easier to change careers?

It took the pressure off in terms of, "Oh, I don't have a $2,000 rent to pay." I could pay off my debt, [too]. But at the same time, there are no jobs out here. I was 39, maybe 40, moving in with my dad. It was good for both of us, but it's just not what I envisioned my life to be. It was a leap of faith, to be honest. As I was living here, I got a book deal.

The book world is an entirely different realm than writing for a website or magazine. It's the most supportive community I've ever been a part of, which I find fascinating because as anyone who's worked in fashion will tell you, that is not the most supportive environment.

Other writers would jump into my DMs and offer to help me out, like Caroline Kepnes, who was a huge supporter of my book. I think I’ve gotten as far as I have because of her. I never even knew her until after she blurbed me and started talking about my book in interviews. 

I just kept writing after that. And I won't lie, my second book has been ... They always say that the second book is the hardest one. I'm doing edits for it now with my editor. It is a weird book. I live outside Sedona, so it's very, I don't want to say hippy dippy, but it's very much about the energy and the crystals, while still being Maga and Trump, which is just the weirdest, weirdest combination you can ever imagine. And so my books are starting to take on a little bit of a supernatural twist, but still trying to be relatable.

Tell me about the period where you were getting rejections. How did you not just want to throw it all away?

Oh, I did. But what was I going to do? My mom used to tell me she met my dad and literally a week later they were married and she's on a plane back to the US in the '70s. And I asked her, "Weren't you terrified of this? You're moving to a whole new country with a man you don't even know." And she was like, "What else was I going to do?" I adopted that mindset. What else am I going to do?

Up until I got that publishing deal, I had no idea what I was going to do. I didn't know if I was going to stay in Arizona. I didn't know how I was going to make money. I didn't know if I needed to go back to school.

There were quite a few years of not knowing, moments when I was lying on my floor like, "I'm a failure, what the hell is wrong with me?" So much so that I wish I could go and tell her that it's going to be okay. But I kept going.

When you're in your late 30s, you're supposed to have your life figured out. I didn't know it was going to fall apart this much. And in hindsight, I'm glad it all happened. It took a few years of deep soul searching and trying to not doubt myself every second of my day. It wasn't pretty.

Do you think there is a bigger fear of failure when you get older?

I feel like I failed already. I fell on my ass. Elle dumped me. Everybody knew. And so I thought, "Well, it can't get worse than that. Right?"

I hit my personal bottom and I was mentally and emotionally dealing with the grief of my mom, because she was my number one supporter in life and that was gone. Turning to writing really is what saved my life, because it gave me a purpose again. 

The upside of failing is that you can see things in a different way. You can say, "You know what? I survived that. It was shitty, but I'm alive, so it's fine. If it happens again, I can deal with it again. I know what I can handle and what I can't handle." One of the things I've learned from that, though, is how to manage my burnout. I was so burned out. I couldn't get out of bed. I only got up to walk the dog and then I would go back and lie down.

I don't let myself pile on the work anymore, because that is a one-way trip to burnout for me. Learning my boundaries has really made a difference. When we were coming up, we didn't have mentors and we didn't have people telling us to not burn out. We had people telling us to work 12, 14 hours a day and to suck it up and keep going. And if you complain, you're told you should be grateful for having this job. It takes a lot of shifting your mindset to really figure out what's the best thing for you. We all have a million responsibilities, but what do you want to do? And how can you do it in a way that's going to make you happy? 

How did you find your way in the book world?

The book industry is all over Twitter. People will willingly explain things to you. If you have questions about how to get an agent, somebody will actually, honestly, help. I remember recently, some guy was like, "This agent's saying I have to pay him." And hundreds of people wrote back like, "Do not pay this person. That's a scam."

Especially with writers of color, all the Black and brown and Asian writers, are, I found, extremely helpful. Kellye Garrett, who's a phenomenal writer (her next book, Like A Sister, is coming out next year, and it's amazing) is one of the head people with the group Crime Writers of Color. She slid into my DMs one day and asked, "Do you want to join this group?" And I was like, "Sure. Why not?" And it's been amazing. You can go on there and ask questions about anything, and you can get the responses. And Kellye's become one of my dearest friends.

[Of course], there's a lot of racism in this industry, too. People ask me why I didn't make my character in #FashionVictim Pakistani. And I was like, "Are you kidding? Do you think that would have gotten published? A Pakistani woman, who would have been Muslim, killing people?" 

There's a moment right now where agents and publishers are looking for writers of color in any genre. At the same time, when you turn in your manuscripts, you get told, "Well, this character is not very relatable." Well, why isn't the character relatable? Because they're Pakistani or they're Black or whatever. And this editor or this agent is white, and they don't understand the things you're talking about.

That's a challenge. At the same time, people will come in and support you. I know social media gets shit on — rightfully so — but the reason I stay on Facebook and Twitter is because of the writing community I've met and am a part of.

How has your relationship with your dad changed?

If you had told 16-year-old me that I would be living with my dad now, she would've been like, "What the hell is wrong with you?" Because he used to be a very stereotypical, controlling Pakistani father when I was a teenager, which is normal. I think a lot of women our age are dealing with this, where you've become the parent to your parent because there are things they can't do anymore. And it's very frustrating for them. It's really hard on people to get to that point where they need help. Now, it's pretty good, [though] we have our moments. 

I made a promise to my mom that I would spend time with him, but I don't know if she envisioned this. She would get a huge kick out of what's happening in our lives now. The other day, I drove him 200 miles because he really shouldn't be driving. I had to get my license, and I had to learn to drive, which is terrifying at 40. But now, I'm going on mini road trips because I'm the driver. 

A lot of us felt like 40 was our expiration date. That's not it anymore. First of all, we look better than most generations did at 40. Let's just put that out there. We got our skincare on. But when you're in the media world, where you've got your 30 Under 30 [lists], everyone is celebrated for [being] young hot shit. Okay, well, what happens when you're not young hot shit anymore? I have moments where I'm like, "I'm 44, and I'm single, too." And then, I'm just like, "Well, who cares?"

I quit InStyle right before the pandemic, which was honestly lucky because I was already extremely stressed and was turning into a huge bitch.

I was the biggest see you next Tuesday you could have imagined because all my bosses were. I had bosses who literally threw shoes at my head. That was the industry. It was like, "If you're going to cry, just go to the fucking bathroom," like not an ounce of empathy.

That part of you that is human and empathetic and kind is not cherished or wanted in that industry, so you stomp on it, but there is a cost to yourself to doing that. I even had my mom saying, "You're turning into the devil," like The Devil Wears Prada, and she did not mean it as a compliment. I didn't like any part of myself and that had to change. And it took me basically failing out and having to leave New York to get to a point where I'm enjoying myself. I'm actually happy. It's weird.

If you told me this was going to be my life, that I was going to be in bumfuck Arizona, I would have been like, "Are you crazy?" Like maybe LA, but really me, leave New York? Now I can't imagine moving back to New York. 

Can you tell me about your upcoming book?

Yes, so Kismet is coming out, I believe, summer 2022. It's set in the wonderful world of Sedona. I'm diving into the Columbus thing of the wellness world, how it just picks up on things from different cultures but doesn't celebrate those cultures in any other way. Then at the same time, there are all these murders.

I'm in the midst of edits, so brain-wise, I'm like, "Oh, it's terrible. They're going to hate it. I have to do more edits," but that's the process. I've learned that my process involves moments of being like, "Oh, this is shit. What am I doing? I'm terrible." Then two days later, the idea to fix it comes into my head and boom, I fix it. 

Your first three drafts will be terrible. Let it be. At least it's on paper, at least you've gotten it down and you can turn it into something. 

This is going to sound lame, and I'm not really a self-help person. But for anyone who's writing or getting into a creative mode and trying to quiet that inner voice that's telling you, "You're terrible," the book Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert was eye-opening for me. The entire book is like, "Why don't you just do it? What's the worst that's going to happen? Just do it." I highly recommend it, because it does change the way I do things for myself. So much of what we do and don't do is because we tell ourselves we can't. That's not for us. That's what other people do. I could never do that. No, try it.