Burnout has become a familiar shadow in my life. Between work deadlines, endless industry events, and the social commitments that somehow fill every spare moment, I often find myself teetering on the edge of exhaustion. And I know I’m not alone — nearly everyone I talk to admits to feeling stretched thin, as though we’re all just barely keeping our heads above water.
Over the past few years, I’ve discovered one remedy that reliably brings me back to myself: solo travel. Twice, sometimes three times a year, I carve out a few days to explore a new place on my own terms. No schedules to coordinate, no compromises to make — just the freedom to wander, rest, and rediscover my own rhythm. Typically, I choose large cities for these resets. London, Paris, Toronto — bustling metropolises that feed me with culture, food, and art, yet still allow for pockets of solitude when I need them.
But this year, I decided to try something different. Instead of hopping across the Atlantic, I stayed stateside. In mid-March, after an especially chaotic stretch of awards shows, fashion month, and the launch of our TZR Groundbreaker Awards, I booked a flight to Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Why Santa Fe?
On paper, Santa Fe might seem like an unusual choice for a solo city break. It’s quieter than New York or Paris, and far smaller than most places I typically explore. But that’s exactly what drew me to it. The city has long been celebrated for its deeply rooted artistic community and vibrant food culture, shaped by both Native American traditions and Spanish influences. At the same time, it has a reputation — somewhat under the radar — as a wellness hub. And after months of running on fumes, a destination where I could balance culture with calm sounded perfect.
The only challenge? I had just four days to soak it all in.
Immersing in Santa Fe’s Art Scene
Santa Fe’s artistic spirit reveals itself the moment you arrive. Even casual strolls through the city center feel like walking through an open-air gallery — adobe walls painted in earthy hues, sculptures tucked into courtyards, and bold murals peeking around corners.
One of my first stops was Canyon Road, a historic street lined with over 80 galleries and studios. I wandered in and out, losing track of time as I admired everything from traditional Native pottery to contemporary installations. There’s something grounding about being surrounded by art born directly from the landscape and history of the region. It reminded me why creative spaces — whether a gallery or a quiet cafe — have always been my personal antidote to burnout.
A Taste of New Mexico
Food, of course, was another priority. Santa Fe’s culinary scene is as colorful as its art, rooted in bold flavors and centuries of cultural blending. I couldn’t resist indulging in green and red chile — New Mexico’s culinary calling card — draped over enchiladas, folded into stews, and served with fresh tortillas.
One evening, I treated myself to dinner at a local fine-dining spot, where the chef blended indigenous ingredients with modern techniques. Another day, I grabbed breakfast burritos from a café buzzing with locals, proof that sometimes the simplest meals are the most memorable. Each dish told a story of the land and the people, and for a solo traveler, that connection felt like a kind of companionship.
Tapping Into Wellness
Of all the experiences I’d planned, I was most curious about Santa Fe’s wellness reputation. Wellness can feel like a buzzword in bigger cities, tied to pricey trends that leave you more stressed than soothed. But here, it felt different — slower, more authentic, tied to nature rather than novelty.
I booked a half-day at a nearby spa retreat, where soaking in outdoor pools framed by desert mountains became a meditation in itself. Time seemed to stretch and soften under the wide New Mexico sky. I also joined a morning yoga class, led in a sunlit studio with views of the high desert — a reminder that even the simplest practices can feel transformative in the right setting.
Space to Breathe
Beyond the scheduled experiences, what I cherished most about my trip was the spaciousness. Santa Fe encourages slowness. I spent long afternoons wandering its streets, pausing in bookstores, sipping coffee on patios, and letting the desert light wash over me. There was no pressure to check every box on an itinerary. Instead, I gave myself permission to simply exist — something that feels increasingly rare in the frantic rhythm of everyday life.
Four Days Later
By the end of my short stay, I felt lighter, calmer, and more myself. Santa Fe didn’t just give me a break from burnout; it gave me perspective. I was reminded that rest doesn’t have to mean stopping everything — sometimes it’s about changing the backdrop, finding a place that mirrors the balance you’re craving, and giving yourself room to breathe.
I boarded my return flight with a full heart, a notebook of new ideas, and, perhaps most importantly, the resolve to schedule my next solo adventure sooner rather than later.
Because in a world that never stops asking for more, a solo trip isn’t indulgence — it’s survival.
