About

Maya shot by Patrick Postle

Hi, I’m Maya Trevathan!

I’m a 25-year-old model, writer, and newlywed.

I was born in Germany and raised primarily in Florida and the deep South, with a two-year pitstop in Boston and summers in Ontario, Canada. I graduated from The Florida State University Honors Program with a degree in Editing, Writing and Media and a minor in Religion. Go Noles!!!

My now-husband Stephen and I moved from our college town to San Francisco, which is where he founded his company and I signed with my amazing mother agency. A model’s “mother agency” is the first one she (or he) signs with; they guide your career and subsequently get you signed in other markets. My mother agency is the best ever! I also have wonderful agencies in NYC and Milan. Contrary to the Devil Wears Prada stereotype, I’ve found the fashion industry to be an empowering and creative community. I’ve met the most amazing people and gained a second family.

Speaking of family, I married the man of my dreams on August 29, 2015 in San Anselmo, California. It was the most magnificent, powerful, beautiful, spiritual, love-and-champagne-filled day of my life! 

Stephen and I have been together since I was nineteen and he was twenty-one, but sometimes I still have to pinch myself to double-check that I’m actually this blessed. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined a romance like ours!

Me and my handsome husband on our wedding day!
Me and my handsome husband on our wedding day!

A few months after officially becoming the Trevathans, Stephen and I moved to North Carolina. We plan to call NC home base and raise our future kiddos in this gorgeous state. But don’t hold your breath on any tiny members of Team Trev yet– we want to spend a few years making big career strides, traveling, and buying a house first!

The name Maya UnMarketed is a tribute to my lifelong search for a cookie cutter “identity,” from my days of hardcore nerddom (the highwater jeans and pimples were as plentiful as the friends were few), to my artistic phase (is bragging about my high school theatre talent still relevant? I was actually pretty good!), to my stint as a party girl (*aloofly sips wine cooler and exhales Camel No. 9*), to my 3 years of questioning whether or not I was truly the “sorority type” (I was a Delta Gamma and made some wonderful friends, but I frequently felt like I didn’t fit into FSU Greek Life as a whole.)

Maya by Ryan Plett for Muse NYC
Thankful that the fashion industry accepts and encourages my gritty weird side! Photo by Ryan Plett for Muse NYC

My family of origin also moved around a lot, and each different culture permeated my skin without ever soaking through to my bones. This was as confusing as it was exciting. Was I a Florida girl? Some of my fondest childhood memories involve ocean-salted hair, thunderstorms, and making Barbie jump from one hibiscus flower to the next. Was I a sweet Southern Belle? I liked ballet class and the color pink. 

Was I a Boston academic? My sixth grader teacher had told me my eulogy for Okonkwo in Things Fall Apart was nothing short of brilliant. (Sorry for bragging, but when you’re an insecure eleven-year-old and your teacher pulls you out of class to gush for fifteen minutes about your talent as a writer, it definitely stays with you!) Or perhaps I was most in touch with my German roots? I’m tall and blonde and kind of serious. My mom’s entire side of the family lives there and I speak the language fluently. And I love a rich, quality German chocolate… but who doesn’t?!

"Grandma was Rich" editorial for Verite Published. Shot by Jen McGowan and styled by my good friend Britt Moore!
“Grandma was Rich” editorial for Verite Published. Shot by Jen McGowan and styled by my good friend Britt Moore!

In short, I could never figure out exactly which stereotype I wanted to pigeonhole myself into. I never knew which culture I was allowed to truthfully claim as my own.

Perhaps the most obvious example of identify struggle was my name. When I was younger, I despised my name. Adults always said things like, “Oh my, how unique!” and “How do you spell that, honey?” It was already hard enough to be the girl who towered over all her peers, so suffice it to say five-year-old Maya did not want to be even more different.

My sister Sophia doing my hair before the wedding!
My sister Sophia doing my hair before the wedding!

“It’s not fair you’re giving the baby a more normal name,” I told my parents one day. My mom was pregnant with my slightly more traditionally named sister Sophia. “I’m going to go by my middle name ‘Elizabeth’ instead.” 

“Okay, little Elizabeth!” said my patient and open-minded parents, assuming it would be soon forgotten.

I went by Elizabeth for nine years.

The aforementioned artsy phase was what brought about my change of heart. No fourteen-year-old alternative kid can resist the bragging rights of being named after Picasso’s daughter! How else are you supposed to impress the circa 2004 emo boys?! I returned to my given name and the rest is history.

I’ve since grown into “Maya” and even claimed an unusual and elegant new last name! (From someone who’s thankfully about as opposite from an emo boy as you can get haha.)

The beginning of the end of my identity struggles came when I signed as a model and was subsequently marketed as edgy, moody, European, and high fashion. (As opposed to the wholesome, smiling Old Navy And Granola Bars type of model.) I was over the moon at the chance to officially be the cool girl. I felt liberated going to castings in the type of weird vintage outfits I’d sometimes bought in the past, but often just confined to the cowardly corners of my closet.

Then after about a half year of loving my new look, I began to feel limited. I missed the same pearls, pastels, and long locks that I’d semi-resented during my younger years in the South. Existential crisis #447524 ensued.

Modelle emergenti, chi sarà la Kate Moss del futuro? - See more at: http://www.vogue.it/sfilate/curiosita/2015/09/nuove-giovani-modelle#ad-image
“Modelle emergenti, chi sarà la Kate Moss del futuro?” courtesy of the Vogue Italia website. I’m number 27 in the slideshow. Such an honor!

But one day everything changed.

It was October of 2015 and I was running through Milan. My sneakers rhythmically slapped the concrete as I drank in my incredible surroundings. The smell of espresso wafted from the cafes and marshmallow clouds lay low in the sky. The Needle and Thread sculpture stood tall, colorful, striking yet fluid.

I stopped to consult my ForeverMap and a realization pulsed through my endorphin-saturated body: I was no longer looking for who I was. I just was.

For years I’d been so caught up in my (mostly self-inflicted) life stressors and problems that I hadn’t stopped to look around and smell the roses. No, literally! There were tiers of potted roses on the balcony of the model apartment, and I’d instagrammed them (were roses too romantic for my edgy model image? Should I try a black and white filter? Maybe retake it at a more obscure angle??) before I’d even buried my face in their silky fragrant depths.

Roses on a Milan balcony
Smell before you insta!

What was I trying to prove? Who was I trying to impress? Why was I searching?

I realized I finally liked my internal self enough to care less about the external. I was working my dream job and had just married my dream husband. I already had a life beyond anything I’d ever imagined.

Terms like “edgy” or “preppy,” stereotypes like “Moody European” or “Sweet Southern Belle,” categories like “theater geek” or “sorority girl” suddenly felt like the flimsy echoes of a child’s soup-can-and-string phone.

There was no need for the melodrama, navel gazing, or feelings of not belonging. I could be the girl in Doc Martens one day and the girl in the pink eyelet sundress the next. Heck, I could wear them at the same time if I wanted!

Selfie with makeup, curls, and engagement ring
Thinkin’ bout being basic…

Now I may be more of an overthinker (It’s a curse! No maybe a blessing in some ways, no I think maybe about 75% curse and 25% blessing… hah) than the average person, but there are probably a lot of women who can relate to the feelings of searching or of not belonging. I want to address those. I want to talk about clothes and beauty and life without worrying about staying “on-brand.” I want to be real with you about what I eat to stay sample-sized while still properly nourishing my body. I want to tell you about what Stephen and I are actually up to, whether it’s cute and bloggeresque (yay for ornate cappuccinos and trips to the farmers market!) or whether we’re unglamorously hitting up Wal-Mart for some bugspray and a new bathmat.

To sum it all up, Maya UnMarketed covers:

  • Style
  • Beauty
  • Healthy Recipes
  • Adventures/Anecdotes
  • Confidence
  • Men/Dating/Marriage
  • And More!

So let’s leave behind the stereotypes and archetypes. Let’s not base our entire identity on whether we’re single or taken, free-spirited or I’ve-got-my-shit-together-ed, academically educated or street smart.

Let’s become happier, healthier and more beautiful together. Let’s define ourselves through our own eyes rather than those of our audience. Let’s throw out “or” and replace it with “I WANT IT ALL.”

Let’s live life UnMarketed.

I certainly consider it a continued journey, so I hope we can learn together.  

Thanks for stopping by my blog!

Xx,

Maya

p.s. Just so you know, Maya UnMarketed is part of several affiliate networks. This means I may receive a modest commission for items I link! Thank you for supporting my little passion project.

Feeling UnMarketed at Arches National Park in Moab, Utah
Visiting Arches National Park in Moab, Utah. Photo by Stephen Trevathan <3