Every morning, I look in my closet and say, 'What do I wish was

“Every morning, I look in my closet and say, ‘What do I wish was here?’ It’s looking for what’s not there and making it available.” Thus spoke Kenneth Cole, the designer who wove both fabric and vision into the tapestry of modern fashion. At first, his words seem to describe only the making of garments, but in truth they reveal a deeper wisdom: that true creation does not arise from what already exists, but from discerning what is absent, from perceiving the unseen and daring to bring it forth into being.

The origin of this saying lies in Cole’s career as a designer and innovator. Unlike those who merely adorned what was already abundant, he trained his eyes to search for the gap, the missing element, the thing desired but not yet made. Each morning, the closet became for him a metaphor, a place not only of clothing but of possibility. In asking, “What do I wish was here?” he placed himself in the position of dreamer and maker, reminding us that progress begins not with complacency but with imagination.

The ancients, too, understood this sacred principle. The great inventors and philosophers were not content to live only with what they inherited. Archimedes, gazing at the sea, asked not what ships already floated upon it, but how they might be lifted more easily. Plato, dissatisfied with shadows, sought the ideal forms beyond them. Even the builders of the pyramids looked at the barren desert and asked, “What monument can we raise here to outlast the centuries?” In every case, greatness arose not from presence, but from recognizing what was missing.

History offers us many examples of this spirit. Consider Thomas Edison, who, staring into the darkness, asked not, “How shall I endure it?” but “What if there were light here?” From that longing came the incandescent bulb. Or think of the Wright brothers, who, watching the birds, asked, “What if man, too, could fly?” From that absence was born the airplane. Like Kenneth Cole with his closet, these visionaries began not with abundance but with lack, and in filling the void, they transformed the world.

From this we learn that to be a creator, whether of fashion, art, or life itself, is to become a seeker of the unseen. The question “What do I wish was here?” is not only for designers but for all who would live fully. It is a question for the teacher facing her classroom, the leader guiding a people, the parent raising a child. It is the question of vision, of possibility, of calling forth what does not yet exist. To ask it is to invite change; to answer it is to shape destiny.

Practical wisdom follows: each morning, in your own life, stand before the “closet” of your world and ask this question. Do not look only at what is present—look at what is absent. What kindness is missing in your family? What justice is absent in your community? What creation waits for your hands to bring it forth? Then dedicate yourself to making that absence present, to filling that gap with courage and love. For this is how ordinary days become extraordinary, and how lives leave lasting marks upon the earth.

Thus, remember Kenneth Cole’s words: “It’s looking for what’s not there and making it available.” This is the very heartbeat of invention, of progress, of hope. Do not be content with what already is; train your eyes to see what could be. For the future belongs to those who notice the empty space and dare to fill it, who see the missing garment, the missing light, the missing justice—and bring it into being for the good of all.