Roxie Nafousi attracts a few curious looks from two women on the next table as she sips on her iced latte at the Chiltern Firehouse, a celebrity hangout. The 32-year-old self-development coach has become a “spiritual guru” for young women since her bestselling book Manifest was released in January.
The book, which outlines “seven simple steps” for “cultivating the life you’ve always dreamed of,” has proved catnip to female readers in recent times of uncertainty.
If you’ve ever wished for something so badly you actually got it, you have manifested. This psychological “magic” isn’t just luck, privilege or coincidence; Nafousi’s book explains that it’s a technique you can practise to get anything you want with relative ease. “Manifesting is about empowering yourself to be so powerful, so full of self-belief, that you take action and make things happen.”
Proponents of the trend—and there are thousands—credit it for acquiring houses, relationships and careers, though much of the scientific community remains dubious. “It’s not magic, although it feels magical,” she tells me. “It’s taking responsibility for your life and realising you have the limitless potential within you to be who you want to be.”
Her childhood wasn’t particularly happy, she says. “From my earliest years, I’ve always felt like an outsider because I came from a very devout Muslim family. I was born in Saudi Arabia but we moved to Oxford when I was six months old. I definitely didn’t fit in at school.”
When the Iraq War broke out in 2003, Nafousi—the daughter of a wealthy Iraqi businessman—felt increasingly isolated as a young Muslim woman in the UK. “I started rejecting myself. I changed my name from Rawan to Roxie just to try and fit in.” An eating disorder followed. When she left boarding school, she turned to alcohol and narcotics “as an escape.”
Nafousi studied psychology at Goldsmiths in London, but between lectures was “just partying.” A graduation job in marketing was short-lived: “I’d met someone a lot older than me and fallen in love.” (Nafousi dated the artist Damien Hirst between 2012 and 2015.) “I naively decided to give up my job and follow [him] around. I was terrible at being an influencer because I hated my face and body and I was always on drugs or on a comedown.”
Yoga retreats made her feel balanced, but she’d quickly slip back into old ways: “For a moment I’d feel joy, but then I’d come back and go on a bender.” When a friend told her about manifesting, it caught her imagination: “I began immersing myself in self-development.”
She began offering advice on Instagram and hosting self-love workshops. Her trademark manifesting method soon followed. “I split it into seven simple steps, which I probably came up with in five minutes. When 700 people were turning up to my online sessions, I found the email address of an editor at Penguin, pitched an idea and in a few weeks I had a book deal.” As well as the continuing success of Manifest, Nafousi sells mantra cards and journals to her followers. A second book is already written. Next she’d like to move into TV.
As the bill arrives, which she insists on paying—“money is a barrier from a manifesting point of view, because I trust there’s an abundance of everything in the world”—I ask her whether it is easier to make manifesting succeed if you come from a privileged background. “I think there’s no denying I’m privileged,” she admits. “I went to private school. My dad could afford to get me there; he’s an immigrant himself and came from nothing.” Does it influence her own manifesting, then? “It’s really hard to know. What I do know is that not everyone privileged turns their life around, and it doesn’t change any aspect of how hard I’ve worked on myself. And I hope I’ve used my privilege for nothing but good.”
