“I used to think noise was power,” she says, crossing legs that haven’t seen a razor or a free minute in a decade. She is wearing a beige linen muumuu that retails for $1,200 on her website, AllisonMutha.co . “Now I know that silence is the only currency that matters. That, and Substack referrals.”
The official bio is tidy: Raised in Portland, dropped out of Reed College, spent six months at a silent retreat in Thailand. But the real turning point came during the pandemic. Stuck in a studio apartment, suffering from what she calls “the triple threat—anxiety, acne, and an algorithm that hated me”—she posted a video. allison mutha magazine article
“I’m not selling a product,” she says, gesturing to the Mutha Dust ($28 for 2 oz of volcanic ash and lavender) on the table between us. “I’m selling permission. Permission to be obsessed with yourself without apology.” “I used to think noise was power,” she