What Applying to the Torrid Casting Call Taught Me About My Priorities

Last week, I did something a little out of character. I applied to the 2026 Torrid Casting Call.

I expect bravery from the people I work with. Every client I have has, at some point, had to put something vulnerable out into the world and let strangers look at it. Every so often, I think it's important to remember just how scary that actually is, instead of just knowing it in theory. Applying pushed me out of my own comfort zone, which means I get to empathize with my clients from someplace deeper than memory. It also happens to be something I've genuinely wanted to try for a while, so I got to chase two things at once.

But filling out the application essay took that empathy further than I expected. It asked why me, why now, what I know that others might not, and I sat with that question longer than I thought I would. What came up wasn't just a reminder that vulnerability is scary. It was a much clearer picture of why I've built my whole career around helping people through it.

For thirteen years, I taught elementary music. If you'd asked me before that application what that job had to do with building websites for small business owners, I might have said something vague about creativity or attention to detail. But the real answer turned out to be simpler: I care about getting someone to let themselves be seen, and helping them survive the part where it's scary.

That's not incidental to either job. It's the actual priority underneath both of them.

I used to tell my students, if they can't see you, they can't love you. I said it to eight year olds standing in front of a microphone for the first time, terrified, with the song obviously somewhere in them but not yet the nerve to let it out. I say some version of the same thing to my clients now. A business owner finally puts their real work on a real website, and has to sit with the fact that strangers are looking at it. Websites can be just as terrifying as a stage. The stakes feel enormous even when, from the outside, it's just a page loading in a browser.

Here's what that application made clear to me: I don't actually prioritize colors or fonts or the technical polish of a site, not really. I prioritize the moment someone is scared of being seen, and I know how to work with someone in that exact spot. Teaching gave me a lot of practice noticing when someone is stuck, not because they lack the ability, but because they haven't yet believed the ability is theirs to claim. A kid who can sing but won't. A business owner who has a genuinely good offer but hasn't built the website that lets anyone find it.

Web design, at least the way I practice it, is about walking someone through the moment where their work goes from private to public, and making that moment feel survivable instead of exposing. That's a priority I built one nervous solo at a time, long before I ever opened a design tool.

I don't know yet whether I'll make it past the first round of the Torrid Casting Call. But the question it asked me turned out to be worth answering regardless of what happens next.

If you're curious, you can follow along or vote for me if I make it to the next round! https://www.instagram.com/lizzymoffett29/