Fashion Unraveled Symposium... A mountain of things I haven't told you...

I don't want to exhaust you with this, but the symposium I attended this past Saturday set my creative and artisanal brain on ABSOLUTE fire.

Where do I even begin?

Okay, we all reach the creative point where we start to analyze why we do what we do.  Does it matter?  Is it silly or frivilous?  Why is this so important to me?

Maybe you bristle when you make something you feel is lovely (which, truth be told, is ALL that matters), and someone says something that indicates that they have missed the point entirely.  People are often impressed when I simplify an item I've made, by just stating that it was "custom made", and then, when they wanna know where to buy it, I reveal that I am the maker.  Then, I get the looks of "You must be crazy to make your own shoes!", or "Why aren't you doing this as a business?"

But, really, those are my own issues.  I do make things for people, lead tours, consult and source when I am the right person for the job, but this whole area of my life is so much bigger than that.  What i am beginning to tell you, could probably be a novel's worth of information, but I'll put it here, because I need to process and express it, even if it isn't widely read or commented on...  Sick with me, and I'll just add to this post in parts, until I'm done.  How long with that take?  I dunno.  Let's see....

David Kelley, IDEO, Creative Confidence (and a welcome bear hug from someone I'd never met before)

Below, are examples of two projects that could have pushed me away from designing, or deeper into something that agreed with what the client was seeking, depending on how I chose to interpret their reactions...

I created this feathered duster for a client, inspired by burlesque dancers.  I loved it.  The client?  Not so much at first.  This was version #1 of quite a few tries.

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Recently, I shared a blog post about this bolero, the process of designing and making it, and what happened next.  This story fits within the context of a talk I attended recently.  Read on, and go back to that blog post, if you're curious.

In many cities around the world, there are events where very interesting/influential/smart speakers talk to an intimate crowd at gathering events hosted by Creative Mornings.  In New York City, these events are EXTREMELY popular, and registering for any of them  (free!) requires amazingly fast fingers.

The last one I attended was a wonderful talk, given by Seth Godin last year, which was fabulous.

With the help of a close friend, who knew to try multiple browsers to increase our chance of attending, we were able to score 2 of the 600 tickets to the talk given by David Kelley last Friday (May 16th).  

Who is David Kelley?  Well, think Steve Jobs.  You know who that is, right?  Follow the highlighted text for an explanation.  I can't force it down into a quick sentence.

Okay, so... Why should I care?  Again, I ask you to click, unless you already get it, and don't need further explanation.

I arrived 30 minutes early, grabbed some lovely pastries and coffee in the waiting area, and lingered with the quiet crowd, talking to a few interesting creatives, mere steps away from David Kelley, who hung out among us, but whose attention seemed to be fully absorbed in one particularly intense conversation. I wanted to compliment his boldly unusual choice of shoelaces (a shock of an orangey-neutral accent that presented the perfect surprise against an otherwise sedate outfit), but it just didn't seem the time. With an ENORMOUS wait list crowd that packed the sidewalk outside of the school amphitheater, we all took our seats, and listened to his talk. You might want to check out his TED talk, which was quite similar to the talk he gave to us in that space last week, but a bit less of a lecture, and more like a conversation.

You know how people say "Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt?"  Well, had there been a T-shirt for sale at the event, I would have bought one. At this point, I have attended the Creative Morning event, watched the TED talk, and bought the book.  Frankly,  if there had been Kool-Aid served at the event, I might have taken a sip. Reading the book now, I can see that the ideas he presents are applicable in just about all professions and circumstances. 

So, what's my point here?

The book, his school, and his mission are all about Creative Confidence, which is basically "design thinking" as a tool for innovation.  I'd have to write a book of my own to explain it all here in a few sentences, so I'll send you to the source:



Seriously, you'd be better off reading the book to get where I'm going with this, but here's how it applies to your own (our our collective) creative journey.

• Involve your (or someone else's!) kids

• Practice empathy in design.  Understand what the challenges are, seek to resolve or minimize them.

• Get other people involved.

• Think outside of the box.

After the talk, did I stay to talk to David Kelley?  No, I did not.  I stopped to talk to the NY organizer of these events to give her a personal "thank you" for achieving the Herculean task of organizing events like these, which she reciprocated with a big, warm, impromptu bear hug. (This was a particularly sweet gesture on a day that happened to also be my birthday!)

Why you should NOT create and/or design your own projects (To be followed by Why you SHOULD be a dressmaker)

Previous (related) post: Why you should create/design your own projects


Below is a post from my old blog, written in July 2011.

Trial by Fire (and Error)

Sometimes, despite your best intentions, things can go horribly wrong. Failed relationships, disappointments... make you wanna "make lemonade". That lemonade isn't always as sweet as you'd hoped.

On that particularly dismal trip to Hot-As-Heck, NC in the summer when I was 16, my mom distracted "my grandmother" (my own awkward name for her, since it never rolled off my tongue to call her "Grandma", or anything like that.) outside for a bit, my Dad pushed aside a large dresser to reveal a door in the front room that lead deeper into the house. Behind the dresser, in neatly appointed rooms covered by a thick layer of dust, lay the year 1965 or so. Furniture in conversational positions, and a lovely baby grand piano, showing signs that a real life had been lived here. Organized and bright, these lonely rooms had been untouched for at least a decade, I suspected. And the "kid's" rooms (my Dad and his brother) were just as they left them even longer ago. At times, my grandmother talked about her "kids" as if they were still boys, and her husband (my grandfather) who had died before I was born, as if he were still alive. My Dad showed me the rooms, whispering quietly, unemotionally, and factually about what each room represented for him. We tiptoed out, put the dresser back as it was, and pretended to be sitting quietly when she came back in.

Back to the present:

Wiped out after a dressmaking project that went wrong, I decided to work out my dissapointment with a personal project. Because I had used an expensive fabric from my personal stash (a luscious, black double silk organdy) as a lining to help "save" a dress that ultimately didn't work for a client, I decided to reclaim some of that fabric for a new dress, which I would name "Things we lost in the fire". My obsession with flame motifs led me to buy a lovely cotton emblazoned with a firey mix of reds and oranges, and apply it to a summer dress. Set against a smooth, jet-black cotton, I sketched and imagined until a creative frenzy sent me to the dress form to messily drape the design.



These approximate shapes gave me rough templates for cutting my pattern pieces...




I adjusted the pattern to my shape, cut the dress pieces, assembled the dress, and was pleased.



That is, until I put it on. Somehow, I had created what looked like a grandma's nightgown with flames. Hot flashes? Ode to menopause? Not what I was going for. Knowing I would never wear it, I resolved to find the version of this idea that I would/could wear. Okay, the silk organdy has no place on this dress, either. I wanted to place it as a bottom border, sorta giving the illusion that the fabric had been singed as the flames traveled up the dress. Okay, so I could see it in my head... but on the body? Just Terrible.



All of that to get to this. Black skirt, to be worn with a black tank and my favorite red wedge sandals. 




Now, if only I had a tattoo...

I still wear that skirt happily, four years later, on the HOTTEST days of the summer. 

Let the above be a lesson to ya, and if that's not deterrent enough,  here's why you SHOULD NEVER create or design your own projects:

You hate originality.  You are not a fan of looking any different, more creative, more fitted, or polished than anyone else.  You just want to blend in, and you want the same for your accessories and home decor items.

You have NO spare time at all.  Hey, know that 20 minutes you spent staring into space/glazing over/Facebook posting/contemplating the laundry?  Don't use that. That time doesn't count. There have been novelists who have written important work in their "spare" time, or by using stream of consciousness techniques, but seriously, they must have been superheroes, since we all know that isn't even possible. Right?

You can't find any stores that sell fabric you like or can afford in the garment district.  There are so many stores, and darn it, you've explored them all, which took WEEKS, actually.  All for naught, because... You loved NOTHING.

You have no new ideas, no old ideas, and NOTHING inspires you.

You feel NO satisfaction when you make something yourself.

You'd rather long for things you can't have.  Maybe you could make them... but who feels like trying?

Really don't...  Have I convinced you?

*This post was written with love (and intended humor!)

Next post on related topics: Why you should be a dressmaker (will be posted in the near future)