“We don’t have a policy of image, we have a policy of product.”
–Jean-Louis Dumas, former CEO & art director, Hermes, from the September issue of Vanity Fair, which I actually rarely read.
P.S. Thanks for all the comments–I will follow up soon.
Just came back from filing my FBN.
I was sitting there, watching the ticker pass by, “…death certificates $19.00…birth certificates…” when I realized I needed $29.oo to file my papers. I rifled through my bag and came up with $28.11. $28.11!!!! Crap! I distinctly remember paying for my morning coffee with a ten, and then putting my change in…my jacket pocket…which I…left at home because it was too hot in the afternoon. Gah! My friends hate me because I can recall their drunken shenanigans from ten years ago with alarming detail and I can’t remember my damn checkbook! I ran off to my car, found four quarters in my little parking money compartment and dashed back.
You just gotta laugh at yourself, you know? Which I did, at length, when I got home.
I’m never allowed to make fun of people for being absentminded ever again.
Last night I went to a fashion-y event. The event was lovely, at quite a cool venue. The diet coke was an actual diet coke, as opposed to the usual ice-packed glass of cola-flavored water. (I drink alcohol about once a year, which doesn’t stop me from hanging out at bars regularly.)
I had a miserable time. I was overdressed, over-made-up. I felt like a fat freak. The recent ten pound loss seemed ineffectual. The husband looked impeccable, however, dressed in a narrow navy blazer, crisp white shirt and straight-leg jeans. Of course, once I again I succeeded in dressing others quite well while failing miserably in dressing myself.
I hid out smoking outside for most of the hour I was there. I was there to support a friend but couldn’t manage it. My friends didn’t show and so I felt like a bit of armor was missing. My usual alacrity in mingling with strangers went AWOL, as it so often does during fashion events. I didn’t know who this intimidating force, collectively more suitably dressed than I, was comprised of, and I had no courage to find out. Embarrassed, I fled the scene.
Once comfortably, if not crankily on my part, at home, the husband and I changed clothes and he took me to a new dive bar he heard about. I felt all my muscles ease up as I sank into the worn faux leather with my club soda, some nostalgia-inducing pop song playing in the background.
I’m just not hip. I’m not cool, I’m overweight, which in fashion is a crime. I’m not a complete and utter dork, I just become one around fashionistas.
I am happiest poring over swatches, sketching up something new and fielding emails while some movie I’ve already seen fortyleven times plays on the left side of my computer screen. Reading a friend’s hilarious email about sourcing a mannequin arm a la Winona Ryder (a complete joke, we’re not actually stealing anything) makes my day, while even thinking about what to wear to some event makes me nauseated. It’s why I’ve never had an interest in going to fashion shows like a lot of other design students do. I’d sometimes volunteer for the Gen Art events in L.A. when I was in school, but that was because a whole crew of us were going to make a night of it.
Why does it matter to me? Because we live in an era I call The Cult of the Personality. Product doesn’t sell itself, sex doesn’t sell anymore, personality does. We love our elusive Margiela, our flamboyant Galliano. Celebrities of varying degrees push product. People famous solely because of who they are get asked to create fashion lines, perfumes, endorse this and that.
All I got is product. Everything depends on my product–I have no sideshow, and I’ve got no money to produce one. No, that doesn’t put any pressure on me at all. Nope, none at all. Sometimes, this thought drives me forward, other times it stunts my progress. My goal for the next few months while I make up my first samples is to achieve more of the former and far less of the latter. We shall see.
–received work table today! woohoo! it’s a big 6’x8′ monstrosity and I love it. I can’t wait until I get it assembled.
–after two days of research, I’ve finally narrowed down some choices for proper floor matting and rugs. Mostly I wanted a really good one to put under my sewing machine (to buffer/absorb noise and vibration) so that my downstairs neighbors don’t hate me. Ordered samples. Fashion is so glamorous.
–fought bitterly with an online company over some stuff. Gah! I’ve been doing a lot of shopping for equipment/furniture/supplies lately and I will post some vendors’ review when I’ve bought/received everything. So far, there’s been some love, some hate, and a lot of cigarettes. All this buying requires research, so I’ve been online A LOT. If it wasn’t for Harry Potter, I wouldn’t be able to tell when I’ve last read something not on a screen.
–been fixing up the new place. Cleaning, buying stuff, thinking about decorating. The husband’s been pestering me (for years, actually) to draw “some sexy cool fashion stuff” for the walls. I feel kinda weird about putting my own drawings up on the walls. Isn’t that strange, that I’m ok showcasing my goods everywhere except in my own house? *shrug* Well, it’s been 3 years of pestering, so I figure I should just go ahead and do it.