By Elen Agasiants
Do you remember Hans Christian Andersen’s tale of The Snow Queen? Gerda, on her quest to rescue Kai, stumbles upon a cottage where summer flowers bloom, despite the icy world outside. That image has always stayed with me—a warm oasis of beauty and life in the middle of a cold storm.
Growing up in Moscow, snowstorms weren’t just stories—they were my reality, metaphorically and literally. Every winter, I walked to school in the dark, the icy wind biting my face as snow swirled around me. The bleak, concrete cityscape in sub-zero temperatures often felt isolating. But what I remember most is the joy in creating warmth and magic—whether it was decorating for school productions, crafting costumes, or bringing whimsy to the everyday.
I also remember that life wasn’t always kind to creativity. Even in the most supportive and creative of families, I somehow internalized the idea that being an artist required not only immense talent (possibly shaped through subtle, in-passing comparisons to high artistic standards) but also came with significant risks. It seemed that pursuing creativity came with the price of hardship and struggle—a life of potential destitution. Worse, I sensed that being yourself wasn’t safe; you had to carefully choose where and when to reveal your true self. Complicated school friendships, my mum secretly copy-typing banned novels by Pasternak and Bulgakov to share with friends, and stories of persecution faced by outspoken film directors or musicians—all of these shaped my understanding that being authentic was a risk, and that risk was best avoided.
So I chose business, accounting, and IT systems engineering for my studies. And my creativity went into hiding, working underground, in disguise. While it was scaled down, hidden in quiet corners, it was always present. I moved to England straight after graduating, following an attractive job offer. During 15 years of working for law firms, managing mergers and coordinating projects, I still found ways to infuse beauty and creativity into the most unlikely places. I transformed boring legal offices into inviting spaces and wrote playful, heartfelt songs as farewell gifts for colleagues. But those little pockets of creativity weren’t enough—I was slowly dying inside, doing work that did nothing for my soul, surrounded by people I had little in common with, in an environment where I couldn’t be a full version of myself.
This realization led me to retrain as an interior designer, diving into the world of design, styling, and atmosphere creation. Each project became a canvas for crafting meaningful, heartfelt spaces. I began to reconnect with the essence of who I had always been—someone who creates beautiful atmospheres that touch people’s hearts.
In my late 30s, I had children, and they gave me permission to amplify all the things I had loved so dearly as a child. I noticed the beauty in small details again—taking photos to capture fleeting moments, telling stories through imagery, dancing, making costumes, dressing up, and singing. Blogging about the day-to-day of motherhood, infusing it with beauty, helped me appreciate how much joy I could bring into the world when I allowed myself to focus on it.
The next few years were about exploration and growth, but I grew less satisfied with contractual work. Working to someone else’s brief no longer felt creatively fulfilling. Just before lockdown, I designed my dream garden and home for our family and realized how much I thrived when I trusted my own vision. That experience reaffirmed that my distinctive style and staying true to my creative instincts were essential for feeling anchored and proud of my work. I also saw how compromise—working to other people’s briefs—diluted the overall impact and meaning of what I created.
Then came lockdown—a time of forced pause but also deep reflection. After that, I attended Ali Mapletoft’s creative retreat, a transformative experience that helped me see what I had never allowed myself to imagine: I am an artist. Not just a writer, a designer, a stylist, or a photographer, but someone whose gift is to create oases of magic and meaning wherever I go.
So, I returned to the essence of the children’s book story I wrote nearly 12 years ago. Flufflin and the Shooting Star is about something I feel truly passionate about: the idea that every one of us is born with a set of special, unique gifts that are apparent from very early on. It’s not just one or two gifts in isolation; it’s the crossover of those passions and interests that makes us truly unique. Following those passions and allowing yourself to master them can lead to a meaningful, satisfying life—one surrounded by people who truly understand and value you, doing something you love. Isn’t that a beautiful thing?
Today, I embrace that identity fully. I have plans for an entire Flufflin series, a theatre production, workshops for schools and nurseries, and a podcast exploring childhood dreams and interests with my guests. My purpose is clear: to bring warmth, beauty, and joy to the hearts and lives of others. Through my books, photography, theatre, workshops, or events, I want kids to grow up knowing it’s okay to follow every interest and passion they have. Paraphrasing Elizabeth Gilbert: “The definition of living a meaningful life is living a life led by curiosity,” and I intend to let it take me to the most incredible places—bringing my audience along with me!
I haven’t done this alone. I’ve surrounded myself with people who feel like my tribe – girlfriends, mentors, and coaches. I moved away from anything that no longer served me. I worked with Elif Kose, using somatic breathing techniques to unpick the societal and family conditioning that kept me small. I have worked with Ali Mapletoft on mindset and visibility. I’ve worked with other coaches, learning about mindset and money, and this work is ongoing. Understanding yourself is one of the most transformational and empowering gifts you can give yourself.
I felt I needed permission to be my full self, but no one needs to wait until their 50s to understand that their true essence has been there all along. Just look closely at yourself between the ages of three and nine: What absorbed you completely? What came easily and naturally? What could you do for hours on end? And if you have children, pay attention to those things—they hold the answers.
Looking back, I see how every part of my journey mattered—the dark winter walks to school, the corporate years, motherhood, and even the quiet moments of doubt. Each step brought me closer to who I am today: someone who creates magical worlds where others can feel inspired, uplifted, and seen.
Being seen is one of our deepest and most significant needs. It’s a gift we can give to ourselves, our children, and the people around us—a gift with the power to bring purpose, meaning, and exquisite beauty to everyday life. Because no matter what storms rage outside, there is always the possibility of creating an oasis of beauty within.
Credits: Photography: Michelle Hayward, Eclectic Photography. Styling & Costumes: Elensworld.
You can find me on Instagram @elen.agasiants.elensworld or visit my website at www.elensworld.com.
Flufflin and the Shooting Star is available worldwide on Amazon for kids aged 3-10, with a beautiful message for adults too.
