I help design my own tennis clothes.

The words of Maria Sharapova—“I help design my own tennis clothes”—at first sound simple, even practical. Yet within them lies a philosophy both timeless and profound: that to shape one’s outer world is to express one’s inner self, and that every act of creation, however small, is a declaration of authenticity. In speaking of design, Sharapova reveals not vanity, but ownership—the will to take part in the making of her own image, her own identity, her own destiny. These words remind us that a life of meaning is not one we merely wear, but one we help to create.

In the realm of sport, Sharapova stood not only as a champion of strength but as an artist of presence. Every match, every gesture, every garment she wore upon the court became a reflection of her spirit—poised, fierce, elegant, unyielding. By saying she helps design her own clothes, she declares something larger: that she will not simply inhabit the role given to her, but will shape it with her own hands. Her words echo the eternal truth that those who wish to live with purpose must not let others define their form. To design is to decide—to decide who you are, how you appear, and what message you carry into the world.

This belief—that creation begins from within—has roots deep in the wisdom of the ancients. The philosopher Plato wrote that beauty and goodness are intertwined, that harmony in outer form mirrors harmony in the soul. So, too, does Sharapova’s act of designing extend beyond fabric and fashion; it is an expression of self-knowledge, of inner balance. When she chooses the lines, colors, and motion of her attire, she aligns her outer presence with her inner power. The garments become symbols of identity, as armor once was to the warrior—crafted not merely to protect the body, but to proclaim the spirit.

Consider the tale of Leonardo da Vinci, the painter, inventor, and engineer who designed not only his art but his own life. He refused to be confined to a single discipline, believing that mastery meant integration—the unity of mind and craft, of vision and form. In the same way, Sharapova’s participation in the design of her own tennis clothes is an act of wholeness. She refuses the separation between athlete and artist, between performance and personality. Her life, like Leonardo’s art, is one continual act of design—an unfolding of intention made visible.

Yet her words also carry a subtler wisdom: that control is not the same as rigidity. To “help design” suggests collaboration, not domination. It reflects humility—the understanding that mastery does not mean isolation, but participation. She works with others, learns from them, and adds her own insight to the process. This is the mark of the truly great: they neither surrender their voice nor silence the voices of others. They weave together many talents into a single creation, guided by a vision that belongs to all, yet still bears their unique touch.

In her statement we also find the dignity of involvement. To design what one wears is to take responsibility for one’s expression in the world. In every sphere of life—whether in art, work, or daily habit—there is danger in passively accepting what others place upon us. The wise do not wait to be dressed by circumstance; they design their own garments of action, thought, and purpose. This is how the athlete becomes an artist, the worker becomes a creator, and the ordinary life becomes extraordinary. To help design is to refuse passivity—to awaken the creative fire that lives in every human heart.

Let this, then, be the lesson: be the designer of your own life. Do not let others shape your path without your hand upon it. Participate in the making of who you are, in the crafting of what you do, in the expression of what you love. Whether you design clothing, ideas, or futures, let your creations carry your essence—your strength, your conviction, your grace. Seek harmony between your inner vision and your outer world, and let everything you touch bear your imprint.

For in truth, Maria Sharapova’s words are not only about sport or fashion—they are about the art of selfhood. To help design your own “tennis clothes” is to help design your own destiny. Life, like a match, is not won by chance, but by intention shaped through effort. So take up the tools of your own becoming. Let your choices be your stitches, your values your pattern, and your courage your color. Then, when you step into the world, you will wear not what was given to you—but what you have created from the depths of your own soul.