Your Home

The house you choose also reveals who you’ve finally decided to become. It’s only been two weeks since we moved, after ten years living in the same house. We did a major downsizing: we left a five-bedroom home with a huge kitchen and an equally large living room for a house with three small bedrooms, and a kitchen and living area that don’t even add up to a third of the previous one.

In exchange, we now have a backyard as big as Herkey’s immeasurable joy — he runs every single day chasing squirrels and rabbits, the habités of the place. And yes, this time the yard has a fence.

I’ve talked to countless people about moving, and 99% agree: moving is not for the weak. It’s one problem after another — whether it’s a rental or a house you bought, with renovations or without. Endless boxes. Endless decisions. It feels like stepping into a loop of projects waiting to be done. A little paint touch-up here, a frame you want to hang, wallpaper you suddenly decide to add. And then there’s the décor.

What made sense in one space suddenly doesn’t in the next. You swap things out, throw things away, rearrange everything. And you live inside this organized chaos, in a constant urge to fix just a little more each day.

But something even more interesting occurred to me.

Unlike the first house and the context I was in — newly immigrated, newly married, trying to understand myself in a life that suddenly included four children in the house nearly 100% of the time, children who were not mine nor part of my previous reality — and living in a space where I was both home and working remotely at the same time.

For a long time, I put aside the decoration — and my own need to make that house feel like me.

It took years before I added a single element that truly reflected my personality. Slowly, I began creating an atmosphere that felt more like mine — more color, more meaningful objects, bringing in pieces of my culture and creativity.

The truth is, the house didn’t reflect me. Most of the items were there for practicality, to create a sense of home — but not as an extension of who I was.

It was only ten years later that I dared to add colors and objects that screamed my name. That happened about a year ago, and it triggered an internal avalanche. The outside started reflecting what was shifting within.

I could no longer stay in a place where I couldn’t express myself. I simply couldn’t.

Even the process of searching for a new house went through what I call my “Rita filter.” I wanted to find a place that at least held the foundation of what I consider essential for my life structure.

That’s exactly what happened with this new space. Even though it’s much smaller, it mirrors my inner world at this moment of profound change.

Almost 50 years old. A career shift. A body shift. A mindset shift…

So much change that, despite all the stress that comes with moving, I never get tired of looking at each little corner I’m still arranging, decorating, and admiring day after day.

Se você quiser, posso fazer uma versão levemente mais curta para Instagram ou uma mais literária ainda — porque esse texto tem força de newsletter poderosa. 💛

Art Can Save the World. Period.

When things go nuts.

When you are going through hell.

When you think it’s too much to handle.

When you can’t believe what you’ve heard, watched, or read, something so retrograde.

When you’re in shock at what humans can do to one another.

When you see someone deeply immersed in brainwashing.

When you reach a point where it feels like there’s no way things will get better.

Well, my friends, I can say there is a solution for all that feeling of powerlessness: ART.

Art can literally save the world.

Art raises questions, promotes awareness, and creates emotional impact on levels we sometimes can’t reach otherwise.

Art, no matter the medium.

Art can save the world.

So make more art.

Even when the world screams the opposite.

A Letter to My Dad, 10 Years Later

Today we celebrate what would have been my dad’s 74th birthday, and in just one month, it will be 10 years since his passing. I often wonder if I ever told him how much he truly taught me — even if, at times, in his own slightly “crooked” way, blunt, straight to the point, in that very Virgo, almost rough style. But yes, he taught me so much about work, opportunities, and courage. I’ve talked about it in therapy, with friends, with mom, with my husband… but never directly with the main character of this story. So today, to celebrate his birthday, I want to share a list of father-and-daughter moments that he left me in this life and in my memory forever. This is for you, Dad. 

My dad was a musician, music producer, creator of advertising jingles, and everything else connected to music. He was the manager of the Frenéticas, released a wonderful album called Nasceu (you can listen to it here and here — and, unbelievably, you can still find it for sale on eBay, Amazon (!) and other platforms.

This is me on the left recording one of the songs of his album

His album

He worked as a producer for Ultraje a Rigor (a very famous Brazilian rock band in the 1980's) for years, alongside dear Cacá, produced other shows, owned a studio for music and jingles, composed songs for Roberto Carlos, worked at the record label Biscoito Fino, and much more.

In other words, my dad knew a lot of people and had countless connections.

When I was around 11 years old, I was determined that I wanted to work in film. One day, after picking me up from a birthday party, he invited me to stop by the Canecão — for those who don’t know, it was a legendary concert venue in Rio, the mecca of great artists and shows. He had been invited to watch Ed Motta’s concert and asked me to come along. But silly me, I said no. Later, when he came back, he explained:

“That was an opportunity to meet someone who knows someone — and that’s important if you want to build a career in the artistic, creative, cultural world.”

That was my first networking lesson. I never forgot it. From then on, whenever opportunities like that came up, I embraced them.

As a teenager, I wanted to try out set design, costumes, and production. Through his contacts, my dad arranged for me to join a series of commercials for a refrigerator brand. I got to shadow the set designer and watch the recordings directed by Manguinha (famous director in Brazil). It was magical! Another push from my dad — teaching me to be bold, to show up even without experience, and to let my curiosity open doors.

It was also to my dad that I confided when I was 12 years old and something terrible happened. On my way to English class, I used to cut through a local market, and one day a man harassed me there. He waited for me after class and did it again on the street. When I got home, I told my dad everything. He hugged me, talked to me, and from that day on, he always drove me there and picked me up. That gave me not only safety but also trust and security.

I can’t forget that, at every presentation of mine — whether it was fashion shows during college, creative English classes I invented, a TV series pitch at my screenwriting course, or even the final video project at my content marketing agency — my dad always created the soundtrack. Music has always been part of my life because of him.

My very first fashion show — the soundtrack he created was a huge hit and super modern! The theme was the Dolly sheep experiments, cloning, and artificial elements.

And how could I not remember my lively birthday parties? My dad was there for every single one of them, and he also joined many other parties — dancing his heart out. The party in this photo? A classic! Everyone who was there still remembers it to this day.

Later, I worked for a few years at Fleishmann Royal Nabisco, during a more corporate chapter of my life. One day, my parents came for a vaccination campaign the company offered, and they visited my office. When my dad stepped in, he cried with pride and emotion. Soon after, I decided to leave that job for an internship at Sony Music. I went through the whole selection process in secret, because I knew he wouldn’t approve — especially leaving a stable job for an internship. I only told him after I was accepted. He was disappointed at first, but when he realized he knew some of the people there, he smiled. A year later, I understood why he warned me not to “trade a cat for a hare.” As always, he knew what he was talking about.

It was my dad, along with my mom, who supported one of my craziest projects: creating MULTI, a fashion market for emerging brands. On the day of the very first event, at a hostel in Ipanema, I was exhausted and nervous. When he arrived and saw the huge event I had created, full of fashion, music, and food, he leaned close to me and whispered:

“Don’t worry. Everything will work out. And if it doesn’t, we’re here to support you.”

That moment still warms my heart.

After days without proper sleep, on MULTI’s opening night I had just taught a fashion history class and went straight to the event launch.

He was also there when I dismantled my apartment after my first divorce, helping me pack everything and saying goodbye to the building that, for a year and a half, we jokingly called “our club” because of its always-empty pool.

He was so proud when he visited the office of my content marketing agency, which I shared with a friend and her design company, in Jardim Botânico. He was beaming with happiness, like a kid in a candy store.

We worked together several times. The first was when I was 18 years old, acting as the translator for a Krishna-Core punk rock band — I share the story here — where I also had a wild spiritual experience right by his side. After that tour, the band released the album Beyond Planet Earth, where we both received an exclusive dedication — another unforgettable gift from that chapter.

Years later, I brought him into the production of a guerrilla marketing campaign for a movie launch through my agency, and I also helped him at the merchandising store for a Chico Buarque concert. And guess where it was? Canecão. More than 20 years later, back to the very place where I had my first networking lesson from him.

Dad just the way he liked at home — shirtless because of the heat, with his studio set up in the living room, surrounded by us kids, mom, and a cold beer. 

There are certainly many more stories, more memories, more lessons, and more moments of pride that we shared. But these are the ones I hold dearest, the ones that helped shape who I am — through ups and downs, but always learning, and always with that famous boldness to chase my dreams.

Thank you, Dad.