For Sophie Marsh, beauty lives in alignment between body, soul, and self-expression. Here, she opens up about her period rituals, self-reclamation, and why she’s more herself now than ever.

Name: Sophie Marsh    
Pronouns: She/her
Day job: Creative Director
Location: Miallo, QLD

 

Describe your work in one line.

My work is a kaleidoscope of practices rooted in curiosity, exploring regenerative systems and how we can create through them toward connection.

 

How did you land where you are today?

As a younger human, I loved provocation and taking the route through the thickets into complexity and difficulty. Having no map taught me many soft and hard skills, including empathy and compassion.

I’d always used visual language to process the world and began sharing myself online. I started getting paid by brands, but over time, lost the enjoyment of being visible. A big part of where I’ve landed today is reclaiming a sense of self within the creative process, creating from a place of love.

It wasn’t until starting my own agency this year that I realised I’d been quietly cultivating the skills to be the nurturer of the narrative, rather than the focus of it. Screenwriting, creative directing, and producing have been deeply relieving. I’ve been lucky to work with incredible creatives turned friends, and for brands genuinely committed to positive impact.

As for my physical landing, I recently turned 27 in my new rural home in Far North Queensland, a space to nurture softness and a deeper sense of peace.

How do writing, content creation, and modelling feed each other?

Writing has always been about expressing my feelings in tangible form so others can understand me. By that token, everything is writing; it’s the act of shaping something so it can be recognised.

All my visual pursuits are, in some way, an extension of that. Modelling is a playful unfurling of characters. Acting is the deepest expression of that process. And content direction is the unravelling of emotion through visual language and story.

 

Is writing a form of self-therapy or self-discovery for you?

My brain moves so quickly now that I find it hard to write like I did a decade ago. I’m actively aware of and holding myself accountable for this, returning to prose, reading, and journaling for enjoyment and allowing space to stream my truth. Some of my biggest breakthroughs have come from reading my old journals, filled with tiny wisdom bites from past selves.

 

How has your relationship with social media evolved?

At one point, I stepped away from modelling and sharing my inner world and instead delved into selling sensual digital content. At the time, owning my image and distributing it privately felt like the most empowering thing I could do. I learned so many beautiful things, about the worth of my body, the regenerative power of sex as energy, and the vulnerability and fragility of men, in ways that deepened my compassion. I felt over-farmed my content life, perhaps giving too much of myself, so having a paywall felt like a protective mechanism.

When I moved to Melbourne earlier this year, after a breakup, my housemate and now dear friend and collaborator, Yasmin Suteja, became an incredible mirror. Through her, I saw how much access I’d given others over the years. Paradoxically, it was the death of my old internet pseudonym, “serpentofvenus,” and the claiming of my full government name, @sophielilianmarsh, as my handle that became the final step in embodiment.

What makes a good workday for you?

Any day where I can converse with others and create something meaningful is a good workday, especially if I can uplift someone else in the process. I tend to overwork sometimes, but collapsing from the exhaustion of passion feels like a privilege. I consider myself incredibly fortunate.

 

How do you stay kind to your body in industries that scrutinise it?

If I were to strip it back to its core, it’s about listening to my body before anything else. Over the years, my body has been labelled “plus-sized,” “curvy,” “sporty,” “athletic,” “mini,” “ideal,” “sexy”, and everything in between. I’ve changed physically, fluctuating with my cycles and stress levels.

I’ve learned to detach from those projections and see myself as a soul first. What feels good for me might not look or sound good to others. I’ve had to learn to prioritise my senses, which was never my default.

Culturally, we need to ease off on our entitlement to other people’s bodies. It’s insidious how much we encroach on others in this way. My body is my home - I decide who enters, and on what terms.

 

How would you describe your personal style?

The ’60s, French effortless elegance, and romanticism heavily influence my style. There’s also a theatrical element in how I curate outfits, adding sensuality and aliveness through leather, sequins, chiffon, or unexpected details that spark conversation. Scent is incredibly important to me, too, to create something more than just an aesthetic.

Living in the rural tropics, my style is evolving again. I’m finding ways to dress functionally while still holding onto my essence. I’m just as comfortable in work boots and jeans as in a sheer beaded gown.

 

Who or what shaped your early ideas of beauty and femininity?

A few women imprinted distinct ideas of beauty and femininity on me, especially as I grew up with two brothers in a rugby-dominated world. My mum was a career woman with a Jennifer Aniston–esque coolness to her wardrobe. As I get older, I see her influence in my style (even though I used to tell her black was sad and boring!).

Before kindergarten, I was cared for by a Punjabi family who dressed me in saris and bindis and introduced me to Bollywood. I loved the woman - strong, vivacious, radiating princess energy. I felt like a princess in those saris, and I’m so grateful to have experienced such expansive beauty ideals so young.

Then there’s my grandmother, whom I lived with for a time. She’d do my hair before school each morning, always making it a ritual and adding oils, perfumes, or serums. She had an incredible jewellery collection I sometimes got to wear and long, beautiful nails I’d help her maintain.

These women helped me question what beauty could be. I was never told how I should present myself, and growing up with brothers meant I was never compared to them, which gave me the space to forge my own sense of style.

What emotions are women still told to hide?

We tend to hide our grief and our rage. I navigate that by visiting my inner well, where both have quietly amassed over the years, and I let them speak. I also cry and dance a lot. And I tell people when they’ve upset me, as an act of respect.

 

What does beauty mean to you beyond appearance?

To me, beauty is when the inside and outside of something align. True beauty also evokes transformation; the most beautiful people or things are the ones that touch you and leave you changed, lasting far beyond a single moment. In many ways, beauty is a synonym for honesty.

 

Do your creativity or emotions shift with your cycle?

Inspiration often transcends my cycle, but my ability to act on it depends on my hormonal state. I spend much of my luteal phase napping, which helps me collect dreams and ideas. But they rarely come to life until I’m mid-bleed or moving toward ovulation again.

 

Is there a phase where you feel most connected to your work?

I love being on my bleed. I feel whole and fully myself, even through pain. It reminds me of my aliveness on a primal level. It is much easier to have loving but difficult conversations professionally and personally.

 

Do you have a period uniform that feels both comfy and put-together?

Any of my staples from Brandy Melville or Pinky and Kamal. Black yoga flare pants, a white singlet, and a bralette, I never tire of that combo.

 

What’s your ultimate self-care ritual when bleeding?

Baths were my holy place in the city during winter. Now that I live in the tropics, resting in my hammock, listening to a curated playlist, and sipping electrolytes is my superset. I also love getting on the piano to sing or stretching intuitively. I gua sha daily and focus more on lymphatic drainage during my period. Ultimately, self-care for me is about doing less.

 

What would you change about how women’s health is treated at work?

I’ve been lucky enough to work remotely for a long time, so in my self-governed creative workplace, the only thing I’d enforce more diligently is rest and more guilt-free naps.

I think women suffer silently far too often. In traditional workplaces, I’d love access to tools that help normalise and honour their experience, like TENS machines or heat packs for cramps, not being out of place in board meetings.

 

Are we getting better at talking about periods and pain, or still romanticising resilience?

I’ve found that, especially with romantic partners, men often have genuine curiosity about periods and cycles and a growing understanding of how they impact the female body.

I believe capitalism has a deep fragility and an anti-resilience culture, which depends on silencing and erasing human experiences and sensations. True, lasting resilience requires acknowledging vulnerability and aliveness in their entirety and building the strength or frameworks to support what is soft and tender. If anything, I think we need more of that.

 

What would you tell your younger self about womanhood?

I would tell her, "You can be all of it." Don’t be afraid to speak it aloud.

 

MY CYCLE

• My period in 3 words: Welcomed, tender, wholing
• Period self-care toolkit: Rose tea, heat pack, yoga, lying in my hammock, 002FORGIVENESS playlist.
• Favourite herb for hormone balance? Ashwagandha.
• Most underrated period self-care ritual or hack? Saying no. Period undies (The Boyshort).
• Contraception of choice: Jonny condoms 
• On day 1, you'll find me: In bed by 9 
• My favourite period comfort food: Crispy skin salmon and steamed vegetables.
• Best way to move on cycle: Backbends and hip-opening stretches.