I “met” MAV when she bought a Filly top online. A couple of exchanges were performed and during that process we emailed back and forth. I liked her. And so I checked out her webpage to learn a bit more. She is as accomplished as she is engaging. And accomplished in a realm that kisses my realm: imagery. I then traveled to her blog 3191 Miles Apart and was captivated. The premise is so likable. She lives in Portland, Maine and her dear friend Stephanie lives in Portland, Oregon, thus the title of their shared journal. Each week they post images from their lives, gorgeous, sumptuous images of two women doing just the right thing. These images are posted next to each other but without coordination. Unsurprisingly the photos are in tune and complimentary. It is fascinating to see the way they spend their year- the mornings and evenings of each season. The narrative is so alluring that their blog has now joined my sister’s and the Sartorialist as the only thing I read on a regular basis.

MAV generously offered to shoot a little fashion film for Filly. Just someday, when it felt right. I think it feels right right now. I think she is the main focus of my work for this Spring 2012 collection, a collection that is so ready and so right that I can barely keep up. When I finish a dress and try it on before the mirror I picture myself in her life, on her wooden steps with my feet in the grass. The clothes are infused with her colors, the colors of sailboats and berries and the blue-white light in her kitchen. And if all goes well, and the timing is right, I will be sending her a brown cardboard box with a stack of Filly made from heathered linen, thread-bare cotton, and hammock crepe, folded and tied with a string. A gift, a trade, for a polished stone.

Today I met with my image team for Fall 2012. On the left is Jenny Mano, our film director. On the right is Anja Verdugo, our photographer. And not pictured but sitting to my left is Sarah Baker who will style the shoot in my absence. That’s correct, I will not be present for the shoot and will be leaving it in the hands of these landed ladies.

I walked Bello in the park while I talked to my sister on the phone. I suppose you can guess the subject.

First I wanted to vent and I wanted to judge. A half hour later I wanted to feel sorry for myself. And I did. And still do a little. But by the end I had to admit that I’m upset because my fantasy world has been disturbed by this realty check. And I’m very attached to the fantasy world, a world in which he and I reunite. Yes, we broke up, yes, it was for good reasons, but that was then. The future is for romantics. The fantasy future has us realize we truly love each other, always have, and admit that our decision to break up was foolish, prideful, and just plain wrong. At the end of this completely unoriginal and predictable storyline we kiss wildly and move in together.

I’m not very good at letting go. Perhaps it is a blessing these fantasies self-destruct all on their own.

Destruction usually comes when one of the parties dates someone new. And unfortunately for me, I am never the one dating someone new. And so a second break-ups occurs. And this one feels worse in many ways because I don’t have the actual person there to remind me why we broke up. I just have the fantasy person and he’s really great. The fantasy person is everything I wanted from the original but didn’t find plus all the things I liked about him and now glorify. You can imagine how shitty it feels to be left by this guy, my soulmate and future. I’m not above changing the fantasy to incorporate, and then do away with, the new lover- something along the lines of “but he never felt about her the way he felt about me…” but it’s not as good.
And so tonight I will mope. But I will also try to see this as a good thing. On a practical level it frees me up to meet someone new. Now that I’m no longer betrothed to my fantasy ex-boyfriend.

There is nothing quite as cutting as finding out your ex is dating someone new. And that he likes her. Over the past six months I have consoled myself with the idea that I might have lost him as friend and companion but I still had his love. I have continued to talk to him in my mind and include him in my life plan, despite being aware of the fantasy element of this behavior. In defiance of the distance and silence, I considered us still connected somehow. Now I feel embarrassed and a bit pathetic for carrying on and assuming he was to.

My first urge was to do something, “about it”. Which is more ridiculous than the fact that I am jealous.

Why does it feel like his happiness is at the expense of mine? Ha! This is even more ridiculous than the first two thoughts!

I thought about spring shapes the entire time I designed for Fall 2012. I kept having to reprimand myself and get back on track. But now that fall is behind me I can dive into the slouchy feminine silhouettes of spring. Yay!

There are certain women, in this fair land, that are a comfort to me. They are islands that I imagine I would swim to if things “got bad”. I think of these women and immediately feel more secure. In place of their human bodies, I imagine a double-sized bed with a puffy white comforter and a thick quilt. I imagine a safe place to sleep.

I was recently gifted a holiday package by one such woman living in Australia. She was not a Secret Santa participant but decided to send a gift nonetheless. As promised, the package came adorned with a thousand international stamps, my favorite type of wrapping. I found this sunny package on my doorstep in the midst of Soupy’s illness. It was a reminder that there was this other world, the one I was in before Soupy became sick, and the one I would return to after she passed. It was a lifesaver thrown to me at just the right moment. With puffy eyes I opened the gift. I gently handled the contents and smiled, a unfamiliar expression at the time. Included was a note.
“I am writing so that you might wonder, and the wonder will do you good. Today the sun shone and the cicadas struck up and I walked the dog and told him all the things we must do when we got home.”
I love this. But I don’t wonder, I know. I know I like her. I know we are alike. And I know she is important, now, to me.

If you were to stumble upon this blog you would have no idea that I design a clothing line. I rarely talk about my job, at least not about the specific details of the business. I’m not sure why. Well, if I were to be completely honest, I don’t want to let on that it is a serious struggle, this career. I want to present an image of calm, cool, beautiful clothing birthed from a place of ease. Because that is how the clothes feel.. in the end. The clothes are certainly calm and cool. But the process is long, it is tedious, it is a struggle to keep being inspired and to keep on task. I have been working on this collection since October 21st.
And this collection, Fall 2012, was especially hard. This is why. I had been running behind schedule very since I took extra time to design Fall 2010. Each season, I am months behind everyone else. With no way to catch up. But I had an idea. What if I pause Spring 2012 and go ahead to Fall 2012, make that it time for the industry wholesale launch in February, and then get back to Spring afterward. Spring would miss the wholesale order window and would be sold directly to customers in April.
A fine plan. And a plan that I followed. But what I did not foresee was how difficult it would be to jump ahead. Designs are based on previous designs. They flow naturally from season to season. You take what worked and expand, evolve, and move forward with conviction. But I was unable to do that. I had leap-frogged myself right out of the natural sequence. I was not able to base my designs on anything I had previously done. I had to start from scratch. It was as if I was designing my first collection all over again. Not ideal. But I did it. And now its done. It’s done! It’s done. Oh lord, it’s done.

Can love alone sustain life?
Yesterday Bello had a 7 pound mass removed while I wrung my hands and paced the floor. Miraculously he has been made whole once again.

This morning I read that 2% of Americans think that Romney’s full first name is Mittens.

What’s a heart for?