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Life asked death, “why do they love me & hate you.” Death answered, “you’re a beautiful lie & I’m a painful truth.”

She lived.

I have this thing, where on my birthday whomever I’m celebrating with, I share my favorite memory of them. Its roots are found in dinner parties I hosted. They started in June 2013 and even though the gossip-y people in attendance thought I hosted the party was because I was—A. getting divorced, 2. pregnant, III. leaving the state or cuatro. because I got a new job—at the time, it wasn’t any of these options. It was a way for me to bring together a small group of friends for fabulous food and real conversation and sometimes WAY too much wine. There were always questions I posed and mobile phones were put away or the rule was you had to pay. Most of the time the group would gang up on me and make me talk about my favorite memory of each attendee. It continued over the course of several more dinners and finally morphed into my birthday celebrations.

This year was no different. I invited family and friends to get together at my favorite Casbahs in Albuquerque as we sat around noshed, talked and sipped cocktails, I took the time to share with the group how I met each of the people in attendance and my favorite memory of each. As I ended my tales, I was interrupted by one of my best friends, Lynella, who insisted on sharing her favorite memory. It was from our eighth grade year, the first day I met her, and her first day at a new school after moving in with her uncle and aunt. She stepped onto the bus, anxious about this new adventure looking for an open seat. She said I asked her if she’d like to sit with me. She said she felt welcomed. And honestly, I hadn’t remembered that moment.

I know I tend to act in the same way that I would want to be treated (I am so socially awkward and anxious, that I don’t ever want anyone to feel that way, so I always try to make them feel welcome and understand that they do belong). And, I’m sure at times to the point of being annoying. From that evening, with so much laughter, hugs, sunflowers, love and all my favorite things, this was the moment that lingered. If you’ve been reading along you may have recalled another one of my best friends, Angela, telling me on my birthday the year before, that my home, while small (and sometimes embarrassing to me), was her refuge. I understand why after 30+ years, they are SO significant in who I am and try to be. These women are woven into my very fiber.

“Wish I could, I could’ve said goodbye
I would’ve said what I wanted to
Maybe even cried for you
If I knew it would be the last time
I would’ve broke my heart in two
Tryin’ to save a part of you

Don’t wanna feel another touch
Don’t wanna start another fire
Don’t wanna know another kiss
No other name falling off my lips
Don’t wanna give my heart away
To another stranger
Or let another day begin
Won’t even let the sunlight in” – I’ll Never Love Again, Lady Gaga

Music fuels my life. When I find a song I love, it’s on repeat. The lyrics, the music, the melody, the beat…it all resonates to me. I am a fan to almost all music, except when it comes to country music. I just can’t. People over the course of my life have tried to get me into it—the crossover songs, the upbeat party songs, the moving songs and yet when I listen to it I want to crawl out of my skin. I tease people all the time that my life is a country song–why would I want to listen to it?!?  The only time I listened to the genre and more specifically two songs, occurred when my mom died and then the following year when my grandpo died. I guess I listen to music to empower, inspire or help me move through life and country gets me stuck in a heavy mire of depressing thoughts that I can’t pull myself through.

Before I reached the age of 25, I had already written two obituaries. The first for my mom, I was twenty-two. Then when I was 24, my grandma asked that I write the one for my grandpo (my mom died 2 weeks before my 23^rd birthday and my grandpo 2 weeks after my 24^th birthday). I honored, but it wasn’t an easy task. I wanted to make sure whomever read or heard what I wrote and said, could see the incredible humans I knew them to be.

“I heard you die twice, once when they bury you in the grave
And the second time is the last time that somebody mentions your name
So when I leave here on this earth, did I take more than I gave?
Did I look out for the people or did I do it all for fame?” – Glorious, Macklemore

As All Saints Day and All Souls Day approached, I couldn’t help think about my own life and mortality. Not in a sad or morbid way. I know I will die one day and I honestly hope I don’t know when. And not so much my legacy, because I know you only play a small role in that (it is really those who know or are inspired by you to carry that on). You can leave many things behind, but real question is, “what are you doing while you’re here?” YODO! It’s not, You Only Live Once (OR Yoda, I know, I’m a Star Wars geek too, but be serious please). You live every day. Really, it’s the fact that—-You Only Die Once!

I learned an incredible life lesson when my mom died and earlier this year when my Jennifer died. When my mom died, I learned to live life to the fullest. It is short. In the majority of cases of life, you won’t know when it’s your time to go. Seize every opportunity. Carpe Diem! Live with no regrets (not regerts). Take a chance. If it works—gold star. If it doesn’t—life lesson and fabulous blog post (or at least I think so). If you don’t like your life—change it. Made mistakes? Learn from them and teach others your life lessons. With Jennifer, I learned to make time. I will never pass up an opportunity to spend time with those I love and be present in that moment. Meet new people. Ask questions, find common ground, find difference, find out what they love and laugh, cry, do yoga together (or whatever floats your boat). If you have a spat and this person is important in your life, forgive. And as much as I HATE photos of myself, I will take them. The last photo I had with Jennifer and I was in 2015, I had plenty of her solo after, but none of us together. While I may not post them for the world to see, know if I ask to take a photo with you it’s because I want to keep it close to me. And if I ask for a retake, it’s only because I have a Chandler smile. But seriously, there is nothing more important in this life than the REAL relationships we forge.

A few years ago, I wrote a list of items I hoped to accomplish within my life. I guess you could call it my bucket list but I called it life goals (and through the course of my life they will change or be added to):

1. Go to Fashion Week in NYC – (spectator 9/13, 2/14, 2/15, 2/16, 2/17, 9/17, 2/19, 9/19 & SHOWED MY CLOTHING LINE 9/17 and 2/18)
2. Climb a mountain (every time I go to the Romero Ranch but also, La Luz—keep in mind I almost fell off the side of the mountain at age 16…so I think I’m done with this goal)
3. Visit the former summer palace of the Czars
4. Pray in the Mosque at Cordoba (darn Spanish Mysticism class)
5. Sing Ave Maria (and NOT have ears bleed or dogs come running)
6. Look great naked before the age of 40. Did you really think I was going to show it here to prove it?? Not. That. Bold. (But I did and had someone tell me “I did” though, so, thanks). Adding to this…I want to visit the French Rivera and do as the French do
7. Drive a mustang (when you show someone respect and kindness, you are sometimes gifted things—you can read about it HERE and it was RED HOT).
8. Do something good for someone without them knowing it was me (still working on this every single day)
9. Run a half marathon (I ran a 5k and I’m good…remember, not graceful, short legs with a booty, boobs and small nose…I’ll stick to running in intervals and yoga. Sometimes it’s good to change your mind on goals)
10. Witness God’s gift in everything (AT EVERY OPPORTUNITY including beautiful souls)
11. Write a novel (okay, so I need some ego stroking on this one, because really, would you read it?!?)
12. Go to Red Rock Amphitheater for a concert (I did to see my Sia and the weather was crazy, it was my mom’s memorial, my marriage was on it’s last few month’s and it was….. absolutely AMAZING <I loathe that word but it was>). However, I am happy to achieve this goal over and over again and any outdoor venue where the music caresses your ears and the scenery moves you in the way music should be heard). Listen for yourself.
13. Attend a World Cup Game….so the next World Cup is in Dubai (who wants to join me)…OR I can plan my alternate: Fashion, Futbol and Food tour of Europe (ahem, again who’s with me)

Autumn is the time of year that we think about this transformation before the cold reality of winter sets in, death in it’s most seasonal state. The summer leaves change and fall. Last weekend, I saw that it was finally going to be a beautiful fall weekend and totally took advantage of it. I am fortunate that I not only get to work for a phenomenal organization but also get to work at a beautifully inspiring building, so I asked our CEO if I could use the space for a fashion shoot. She kindly obliged. I sent out the call and had a great response. In case you couldn’t tell from prior posts, I LOVE fall in Albuquerque. The contrast in color, the golden fall sun against the crisp blue sky, and when the weather plays nicely it is heavenly. I am salivating, waiting for my friend, the incredible photographer and model, Sofi Jaureguiberry (featured: NYFW, Vogue, GQ and this coming year Cocoa Rocha model camp) to share the photos, but until then HERE are some of my favorite from the handy dandy iPhone (thank you: Models: Crystal Ortiz, Chantelle Wagner and Beauty Team: Amanda Serafin and Ramiro Cardenas, Location: Prosperity Works).

I strike out and step up to bat again.
I design the life I want to live.
I write the story I want to leave.
I hope those who loved me will say, “She lived.”

With light and love,

Dara Sophia

This ancient prayer is part of my morning routine (combined with a Hail Mary, Sun Salutation and ten things I’m thankful for). I added it after becoming enthralled with Zoroastrianism, when I learned about the first monotheistic religion years ago at UNM (I highly suggest taking World Religions with Dan Wolne, if he’s still teaching). What I found fascinating about this mantra is that it is at the heart of how we should act as human beings. Our thoughts lead to our words which lead to our actions and if they are drawn out of kindness and what is right, then of course we would treat our neighbor as we would like to be treated and we would be responsible for our actions. I remember when Albuquerque Business First amended this mantra during my A Peek at the Life article to the heart, which is “Do Good”.

It seems that this is such a harder task to live by. I am not ignorant to believe this is new. I understand that humanity has been plagued with war, death, destruction, and hatred since the beginning of time, yet I feel as a society we have become desensitized by it as an everyday occurrence, and so much so that the good is over looked. A few years back, my friend, Laura, and I were talking about this topic. As a country, we were at war in the Middle East, and my uncle had been deployed to Afghanistan. I couldn’t help but think what goes through the minds of our service men and women: leaving behind your family, friends, and community to go to what will be a hostile state (in the time of war), waking up, and not knowing if you’d live to see the next day fighting against the “enemy”. I told her I could no longer bare to watch or hear the news. Even when it was “positive”, there was always some underlying negativity. It was her challenge. She would only send me good news stories. She even found a “good news only” website (however, I think we debunked it that it truly wasn’t all good news all the time).

I began to sensor what I watched and what I read and looked for things that made me smile or laugh or feel good about the world. I know this isn’t realistic, that there has to be the good with the bad…and many times the good actually comes out of the bad. Lately, I feel the bad is only coming out of the bad, and I keep saying to myself, “it can’t keep getting any worse, can it?” The past few months have only led me to believe this profoundly. With the Supreme Court confirmation hearings, preventing the American given right to vote, the fear mongering rhetoric around the migrants coming from Central America, catastrophic climate change with a deadline, and demonizing opponents enough to incite violence, I want to run away to Canada or actually, the Cyclades islands or Amalfi coast. Then I found this (click on photo or link below to full story):

I found it to be such an important reminder, “There’s always more to the story than we first see or hear; taking time to find the ‘why’ is always worth our time.” Just think about it. Taking the time to find out and understand the reason people act the way they do. This dad went above and beyond of just understanding the why (really, read the story by clicking on the photo or caption below it–it made my day). This story is a perfect example of loving your neighbor and just doing good.

A few weeks ago, I received an email from an organization I’ve been volunteering for over 20 years, Casa Esperanza. If you are in Albuquerque, you may have heard that summertime weather had caused extensive damage to their roof and their rooms. For those of you unfamiliar with the organization it is a home away from home for individuals and families who are seeking medical treatment in Albuquerque. I was introduced to them when my own Great-Great Aunt stayed at the “Hope House” many years ago, when she was seeking cancer treatment. A few years later, I began taking a group of volunteers to decorate the house for the holidays, that grew to making dinner for the temporary residents, to serving on the organization’s fundraising committee, to finally becoming a board member. It had been a couple of years since I last volunteered there. After a conversation with a new customer and friend (THIS IS WHY I LOVE meeting with my new bespoke customers, to learn about them and their lives), who had a similar experience of needing a comforting, safe and inviting place to stay when seeking medical treatment, I was reminded about their vital work. She talked about her despair because they were in an unfamiliar city without loved ones nearby and the immense anxiety about her husband’s illness. Some things we just take for granted: a warm bed and a safe shelter that is affordable for what might be long stays.

The email asked for volunteers. While they were able to get insurance to repair the roof (after major negotiations), the rain had caused damage to the walls and carpet (remember, some of the residents are medically frail). My desire to volunteer in what I knew would be grunt work really called to me. After reading the email, I sent my own message asking for people to join me in some hard labor. I wasn’t sure if it was moving, cleaning or painting. One of my best friends, joined me and I “voluntold” Isaiah to join me (I would have voluntold Cati, but she was working). I got an INCREDIBLE workout that day. It was a laborious few hours. However, it felt good to go back, see some friendly faces, and do the work in honor of my friend and those like her, who need these services (Chris Ann Gray, CE ED, said they’ve been unable to provide rooms for about 90 days). There is still much to do and I have included the link to sign up below. As I’ve stated before, it is beautiful to see transformation.

What we forget is the process of transformation. While the outcome is incredible, the process is not easy. A month ago, I joined my colleagues for a team building project transforming the outside of the industrial building that houses Keshet Dance, another empowering, local non-profit that supports those with artistic inclinations. While having a small part, under the early fall hot sun (not gonna lie, it was HOT), we helped with painting and taping off the mural and just today, received the almost complete transformation photo:

It is so different and so inviting. Just think how reminding yourself to think Good Thoughts and to say Good Words and to do Good Deeds will impact your soul and those around you.

National Make a Difference Day is this Saturday. It is the annual day of community service. Grab your friends, colleagues or family members and do something good for your community.

To learn about Casa Esperanza, visit them HERE.
To learn about Keshet, visit them HERE.
And even though my KK (aka Cati) wasn’t able to volunteer with me, she is doing her own fundraiser for Street Safe, support it HERE.

And if you need something to make you smile, here’s this:

Or this:

https://youtu.be/i47w1di8_IE

Or this:

CUTE ALERT: These kindergarteners at Hickerson Elementary School in Nashville wished a deaf school custodian a happy birthday in sign language yesterday. He sure was surprised! Happy birthday, Mr. James! (Video courtesy of Hickerson Elementary) pic.twitter.com/mAK1wgmxIr

— Denver7 News (@DenverChannel) October 24, 2018

Or this, because you need a good laugh sometimes and some new dance moves:

And, you’re welcome!

With light and love,

Dara Sophia

There is an appointed time for everything,
and a time for every affair under the heavens.
A time to give birth, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant.
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to tear down, and a time to build.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them;
a time to embrace, and a time to be far from embraces.
A time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away.
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to be silent, and a time to speak.
A time to love, and a time to hate;
a time of war, and a time of peace. – Ecclesiates 3:1-8

I woke at 2:00am, Sunday morning, and change was on my mind. It was fall break, so I decided to hit the road with my minis. We opted for a trip to Denver for the long weekend. We hit the road on Friday morning, and no, this time no screaming (although the girl did initially forget her bag so we had to go to her house to get it—I’ve learned to roll with it; it makes for good writing).

 

I love me a good road trip. As I’ve said before, it gives me the chance to really contemplate what’s happening in my world, enjoy the beautiful countryside, and dance in my seat (this time I had the whole car dancing with me).

The incredible vistas reminded me of changes.

The changes we choose to make… The changes we didn’t necessary ask for, but adapt to… The changes that naturally occur, like the changing seasons… The most vibrant reminder, I found along the highway. We arrived in Denver and the immense beauty of fall—the golden, orange and red hues—was a welcoming sight. My plan was to make it to the RiNo district, meet up with a friend or two, and just spend some quality time with my minis.

A few days before we left, Cati mentioned how stressed she was about an upcoming paper. I told her if she needed to stay behind, I’d understand, but I also wanted her to realize that we won’t have many more moments like this and I’d really like for her to go. I explained that life changes too quickly, soon she’d be graduating and either going off to grad school or working full-time. Even if she needed to spend one of the days at the hotel researching and writing, I’d still love to see her, but not if she was going to be stressed. She agreed and after our initial hiccup we made it out there.

Saturday, we woke up to a beautiful morning; she and I decided to take a walk. Behind our hotel, ran a manicured little creek. I’ve stayed at this hotel a few times and in the past just reflected at the bridge over it, but being the explorers we are, we decided to follow it further. We stumbled upon a walking path that divided a large park and a quaint neighborhood.

We walked for a few miles in the beautiful fall sun, feeling the breeze and admiring the trees shimmer in the light. Everyone we came across, I said “hello” to. More often than not, it was met with either a grunt or complete silence. Cati questioned why I continued to say, “hello”, to people when they didn’t respond. All I could think for my response was, “it doesn’t reflect poorly on me, it reflects poorly on them.” I’ve always greeted people I meet. I’ve been scolded at times for being “too friendly”. I believe greeting everyone you meet with dignity and respect. There are a few reasons why, 1. because at the core, it is who I am. I say, “Good morning, sunshine” with intentional warmth. AND 2. as a woman, I also do this for my safety and security. I want the person to know that I see them and I am paying attention to all around me. The only person we came across that was as sunny and outgoing as we were, we found, was from Chimayo, NM. Maybe New Mexicans ARE the friendliest people out there. We walked for about 1 hour and a half. It got to a point where Isaiah called because he was worried about us. No need to be, we were just enjoying the autumn sun and each other’s company.

Isaiah and I left Cati to her homework and decided to play tourists. It was the perfect day to wander around RiNo – River North District in downtown Denver (or as Cati called it, the gentrified area of Denver). Once made up of industrial buildings and businesses, it is now an incredible arts mecca of the city (at least in my humble opinion) with local boutiques, galleries, $$$-$$$$ eateries and breweries/bars. I wanted to go there to see the street art which I had been ogling for weeks before on-line. It did not disappoint.

There was one that I REALLY wanted to see that had been calling me when I saw it online. It was stark. It was hard to look at. It was real.

When we arrived, it had already been changed.

I read that the artist changed it purposefully to take a stand. And again, I thought about the changes we make. Can we really make a difference? Think of that rain drop rippling the steady water. Can changing habits make lasting impact on your life, on your trajectory, and the world around you? Think of Charlie Jabaley. And with that work, are you truly ready for those changes? I know people who jump at the chance for change, but aren’t fully prepared, and then are upset that things didn’t turn out the way they expected. I also know people who live their life in that comfort zone…fine with everything being “okay”, but then complain that life is passing them by.

About six months ago, I was having a conversation with a friend. She was talking about moving East because the opportunities were more abound than her current location and wanted a change of scenery. She put her resume out there, but unfortunately nothing was coming to fruition. Then life happened, as it does. She became the primary caregiver for a family member and while she loves the career she has, she wasn’t getting the respect and support locally. And just a month ago, a door opened. She was invited to participate in a prestigious role for the next 18 months. It was all she was wanting less than a year ago, yet when the opportunity finally presented itself she wasn’t sure it was what she still wanted. I think as women we struggle more when it comes to opportunities and responsibilities than our male counterparts. The only thing I could think of telling her is that maybe it is time for another family member to help out and since this is a limited, INCREDIBLE opportunity, if it called to her she should take it.

Still don’t know what I was waitin’ for
And my time was runnin’ wild
A million dead end streets and
Every time I thought I’d got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me
But I’ve never caught a glimpse – David Bowie, Changes

I try not to get too political in my writing. I am a moderate “independent”. I believe in fiscal responsibility within our government and support services to empower citizens. I also believe we all have a voice, I think it’s time to change and FACE the strange. I remember visiting the legislative session a few years ago with community leaders trying to understand as a business owner, how I could lend my voice. One of the individuals I was with suggested I should run for office. I laughed and said, “oh, hell no”. I admire those who run for office. However, there is way too much bureaucracy and too many back door deals that happen. I believe in getting shit done. I volunteer for that reason. I vote for that reason and I speak up when those marginalized or traditionally left without a voice are not heard for that reason. If you want to see things change, I urge you to do the same. Use your voice, act and get out there and make change. So, Sunday night, I was restless. The act of creation is change and my focus was on a white wall, where a woman’s voice was covered over. I believe we are at the twilight of some big change on the horizon. And the next morning, I awoke to some major change to my surroundings. Overnight, it had snowed 3 inches.

We were prepared and ready to face that change. We packed up, bundled up and hit the road back home, ready for the week ahead. What changes are you making this week? Is it personal, professional, major or subtle changes? Be careful of drastic ones, like hues of Pumpkin Spice Latte, because you do have to live with them.

With light and love, from me and my minis!

Dara Sophia

I am dying. Not literally (wait, I guess we all are), but I am in in the fact that Thursday was the end of New York Fashion Week. Throughout that previous week, I had been reminded every day with invitations to show and events (and secretly accepting them: 1. to stay on the list and 2. just in the case that I was able to fly out, I’d have my reason). AND…AND…to top it off, Isaiah got the latest Spiderman game with beautiful graphics of my beloved city. I kept trying to get him to be a tourist and web-sling to my favorite landmarks to really see how true to life the CGI is, but crime prevailed and he had to live up to the friendly neighborhood crime fighter. I know whine, whine, whine….but really it does call to my soul.

For those who read along consistently, I write about my NYC travels all the time and sometimes only in my dreams. I visited the first time in 2005 and I was hooked. It was Christmas. It was magical. I was constantly being stopped and asked questions because I was mistaken as a local. I had been told over and over that this city is rough, that people are rude, that it’s dirty and it stinks, and it’s too industrial. It inspires me. It re-energizes me. It reminds me that if you work your arse off you can achieve your goals.

Caught up in the in-crowd, now you’re in style
End of the winter gets cold, en vogue, with your skin out – JayZ

I love people watching while walking around Chelsea, or on Bleecker St, or on 5^th Avenue. I love running in Central Park and heading over to the Hudson Hotel to work out of the Commons (I guess it’s Unami Burger now) or sipping a cocktail on the rooftop (and even though they’ve taken it off the menu, I still ask for my Pink Slip and they always graciously oblige). The first time I stayed at the Hudson, I went out to the atrium after a morning run and as I sat there with a book and my coffee, I looked over and I found her sitting on a bench. She….is Our Lady of Guadalupe. It was a sign for me, that little bit of home.

I love praying in St. Patrick’s Cathedral and being inspired by the holiday department store windows. I enjoy high end dining as much as I enjoy the food trucks (incredible Halah Bros on Avenue of Americas and 51th) or a Gray’s Papayas’ hot dog. Every other week, I crave being that fly on the wall or walking in the buzz of people to see the most incredible street fashion especially in the fashion district or turning my head and seeing a celebrity walk into a building. I have been there during blizzards and the heat of the summers. I have found my brownstone on 67^th and Avenue of the Americas. I can always travel there on a budget and absolutely enjoy when I can show it to someone else for their first visit.

The city is not for everyone, but it is for me. I always wonder if I hadn’t received my first invitation to Fashion Week in September 2013 and an encounter with a woman, Dallas, who saw my future, would my life still have taken the same path? I realized that NYC really sings to my soul. There is so much intense energy that it can overwhelm many people. I feed off of it, but I can also see why so many people smoke in this city. The stress of making it there (because you can make it any where if you do) is heavy. So while it has it’s place on one end of the spectrum, I realized today that I also enjoy the other end, that of the Southwest.

A friend was visiting, and I met him for coffee when he asked if I wanted to walk around downtown. I work downtown, yet I really don’t spend a lot of time there. He asked why and I informed him there’s not much else besides coffee shops, eateries and bars. As I thought of about it, all my local shows up until this month’s show, have all been downtown: the Downtown Contemporary Gallery, the Verge Building, the Banque Rooftops and Hotel Andaluz, so there’s obviously a draw for me. I also looked at it differently for the first time. We had exploring different places, vacated locations, historic buildings, kitschy signs, and walking through alleyways (while trying not to breathe the ripe breeze) and again people watching (although the crowds were MUCH smaller than those I encounter in NYC).

After we toured Downtown ABQ and were glistening from the heat, I decided that he needed to see the vistas from my vantage point, my Jeep, so we headed west on Central. I stopped at a gas station, filled the tank, and then took him down Rio Grande. Jeez, I love that drive. The views are breathtaking, it’s so lush and green and it’s such a slower pace than the rest of the city. As the scent of roasting green chile filled the air, I teased him that I was going to take him to go pick it (to which after melting on the asphalt and concrete of downtown, he just stared at me…what can I say, I think I’m funny). We continued North to Alameda and I told him I was taking him to my hood. I grew up in the North Valley but more specifically Alameda. We took the road less traveled from Alameda Blvd to 4^th Street and eventually ending up on Highway 313 (funny, later I received a text from a friend, Sofi, telling me she saw me in the Jeep, it’s kind of unmistakable and I love that…oh that and probably my crazy hair). It was the perfect day for a Sunday cruise.

The breeze broke the heat and we talked about a few things, but really spent the time enjoying the views (his probably a little more eye catching than mine). We drove up the main drag in Bernalillo to Rio Rancho then driving back to the city through Corrales. Again, the road winding through the village was slow paced and beautiful and green. The fields were ready for harvest and we drove by several bustling eateries. I hope I convinced him how fun it is to enjoy a ride in an open-air jeep. A few hours after dropping him off, I met another friend to walk the Bosque. Walking the Bosque is so different than walking Central Park, but equally beautiful and just like New York, September in Albuquerque is my favorite time of year. Every day as I drive along Rio Grande and really paying attention to the beauty here, I’m reminded of a blog I wrote for Hotel Andaluz a year and a half ago and all the treasures the city holds. If you are interested in reading more, CLICK HERE.

I would love to reach the day I can spend my time equally in both NYC and ABQ, so for now I’ll incorporate both into my life, whether it’s bringing a little NYC to Nob Hill or taking a team from NM to NYFW. I’ll also cherish every fast-paced, high energy, soul feeding trips to NYC and I’ll appreciate the slow paced beauty of my own backyard.

I’m interested, what’s your favorite things about ABQ and/or NYC? Feel free to comment below.

With light and love,

Dara Sophia

 

“Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods?” Bonnie Tyler

Last Saturday my friend, Edie, and I were waiting out the seasonal torrential downpour before heading downtown for the Somos Albuquerque event. As we were talking, we were interrupted by the news alert that Senator John McCain had succumbed to brain cancer. We stopped in our tracks and listened to the news that came in and the tributes as the reporters recalled their own memories and interviewed others close to the Senator.

“All of us can aspire to put the greater good above our own.” Barrack Obama

As an Independent voter, I have always respected and admired McCain, giving much thought in voting for him in the 2008 election until he chose his running mate. Over the past few days, and as more information was released about him, the more I respected who he was. I wept over moments when former Vice President Joe Biden, former Presidents Barrack Obama and George W. Bush and his own daughter Megan McCain eulogized him. I gained a deeper understanding about his time as a prisoner during the Vietnam War and the cruel acts afflicted upon him. I was taken back to when he was the Republican candidate for President and in a town hall when his opponent’s nationality was questioned. He took the microphone back and squashed the fear mongering. Some critics said he could have done more, yet he could have done nothing and perpetuated this delusional stereotyping. He also didn’t belittle the woman for her lack of information instead tried to inform her in her ignorance.

“It is not the critic who counts;
not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles,
or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,
whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood;
who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again,
because there is no effort without error and shortcoming;
but who does actually strive to do the deeds;
who spends himself in a worthy cause:
who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement,
and who at the worst, if he fails,
at least fails while daring greatly,
so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls
who neither know victory nor defeat.” Theodore Roosevelt

Even in his last note, McCain spoke of his imperfections, believing in the ideal of something greater than self, gratitude for his FULL life, and a connection to America’s ideals, “liberty, equal justice, respect for dignity of all people”. And through these tributes, though his own words, I was reminded of another individual that had profoundly impacted who I am.

This person is my maternal grandfather, Samuel Alfredo Romero, my grandpo. While I only had him physically present for my first 24 years, there is so many ways he shaped the woman I am and what I believe. Born in 1924, in Northern New Mexico to a family of 12 children. I don’t know much of his younger years, I do know he was one of the older middle children. A history buff like him, I’d eat up the tiny morsels he’d share (or actually my grandmother) about his time serving in World War II. He first started on the European campaign as a paratrooper in the Army until I was told, that his older sister begged him to be reassigned to another role. Not talking much about what he saw in war, I heard more of his tales riding on a motorcycle through the Austrian countryside in which he said reminded him of his beloved Northern New Mexico. He was a Sargent in the 86^th Infantry Division of the 452^nd Inf Reg, known as the “Black Hawks” (thank you Nick Layman for helping track down this information).

He went on to fight in the Asian forces until he returned and on the G-I Bill went to Highlands University getting a degree in Social Science while working as a mechanic in Las Vegas, NM (next time you visit Las Vegas and stop to eat a towering cream puff at Spic and Span Bakery, look out the window and you’ll see a little white building–this was the old mechanic shop he worked at). He met his future wife at the bus stop in front of that shop. Funny, they knew each other as my grandmother was friends with his sister, but he was a few years older. After they married, they moved to Santa Fe. He worked for the State of New Mexico in the Health and Human Services department. He was known for his silent strength, courage, honest and good nature (with six strong, stubborn women in his household—you’d have to be good natured).

“I wanna take a minute or two, and give much respect due to the man that’s made a difference in my world.” Salt n Pepa

I was not born Dara Romero. I was given the opportunity to change my name during my divorce and I chose the sir name Romero. From an early age, he taught me to be self-sufficient. I knew my ins and outs around a car. I could change my tires, oil, the fuel pump just to name a few. I learned that I am not a victim in my own life, while I might not be able to control what others do and what what happens around me, I do have the power to control my response to it. We shared a love of history and a deep love of family. While not someone who was touchy-feely when it came to sharing his emotions, you definitely knew you were loved because of his actions. I could always count on him. He was also tough, believing that hard work was the only way to achieve greatness and not on the backs of others. Those values were instilled in all of us at an early age. There were times when he pounded the table to get our attention and my grandmother would teasingly tell him to stop it. He would often tell me, “Aca muchachicita” to get my attention in asking, “what did I do”.

He died on Sunday, July 27, 1997. He suffered a massive heart attack during mass in Mora, NM . I was not there, but remember receiving the call as the ambulance took him to Las Vegas, NM. On my way from Albuquerque, I had U2’s Pride in the Name of Love on repeat.

I played this song over and over during that trip as it reminded me, “What more in the name of love?” It was the way he lived his life. We arrived and shortly after he was pronounced deceased. I was honored to help write his obituary and to recite a poem at his burial. I still think of the day he was buried on the mountainside of our family ranch next to my mom. It rained all morning and the hill side burial ground became both slippery, while creating extra weight on the processioners walk to due to the clay based soil. We all thought, “of course he had a hand in the weather, he wanted his pallbearers carrying his casket–who were made up of my uncles, my brother, my cousins and a few of his nephews—to work as men should.”

I still see him in my children, Cati in her love of the outdoors and artistic abilities (his folk art painting of his Las Cruces home hangs on my bedroom wall). While Isaiah never got to physically meet him, he carries on his name. I am reminded of my grandpo all the time when I see Isaiah. He is the silent strong type and that is willing to do whatever for his family. Physically he has the same curly dark hair and sturdy body frame. I see my grandpo in my work ethic, in how I value relationships, and in how I speak up for the wronged. He and his life experiences have even influenced my design aesthetic.

Witness to the world’s atrocities, one can be crippled by it, become a victim to it, or rise above it and see that there is good in the world if we each take a role to focus on creating that good. To read all the disparaging, divisive and threatening comments and see corresponding actions in recent years, to what has become the social norm, it is refreshing to be reminded of courage, integrity, humanity and valuing our differences in the hopes that it is a world we can continue to embody in lieu of burying it with our lost heroes. I hope both men and women of valor will rise up to the challenge.

“See you in the funny pages…” Samuel A. Romero

With light and love,

Dara Sophia ROMERO

Since getting my jeep back, I’ve been driving along Rio Grande as my preferred route to work in the mornings and in the evenings back home. After a night of rain, the morning route is filled with the sent of sweet alfalfa and lavender…these are probably the few scents that I actually enjoy in my open air vehicle. It is a serene ride beautifully lush with my ear buds playing my preferred music for the drive and it is less stressful than taking the freeways. The wide-open spaces, sprawling estates, windy roads, wildlife and fields filled with sunflowers and gardens remind me of my family ranch in Northern New Mexico and how my youth summers were spent with my maternal grandparents going back and forth between Northern and Southern New Mexico. We’d spend our time in the mountains exploring, hiking, playing games and helping around the ranch. The 8-hour trips across the state included bits of history New Mexico and our family’s, dreaming and asking over and over, “are we there yet?”

“With great power comes great responsibility.” Uncle Ben

You’ve probably heard my original dress story (my O.D. story — did you think I was talking about drug use? Really, wow?!? – well, since I’ve got your attention…). I’m speaking of my origin story in this crazy world of fashion. We all have them: where we came from, who inspired us or taught us lessons, how we came to love and find meaning in who we are and what we do… Just think of Peter Parker, being bitten by a radio active spider that pivotal moment when he went from a high school student to neighborhood crime fighter. Whether intentional or not these defining moments have impact on the rest of our lives, with great power comes great responsibility. As I’ve mentioned before it started with my grandmother, Catalina, who taught me how to sew in middle school.

It was more out of necessity than a hobby, but I found I loved it and initially tried to follow the path in fashion but unfortunately, there were some road blocks. That was until I had a conversation with a man who challenged me once again to design over almost 30 years later. That was in May of 2014. I started small just designing for myself and once again returning to my grandma to remind me of the tricks and providing tips to make it work. I was very fortunate that I got to spend a few months that summer under her roof and under her tutelage again. It was a difficult summer losing my home, but it was important lesson in family. I am always reminded how she embodies that.

My grandma turns 89 this year. Don’t let her small stature in this above photo delude you. When it comes to faith, family and adventure she is bigger than life. I was her first grandchild and I tell every one of my cousins and my brother (oh and my kids), that I’m her favorite which makes her smile (because it’s true). I spent so much time with her growing up. Grounded in faith, she raised a family of 5 girls and 1 boy (my poor uncle Sam, who is also the youngest). Many of my childhood memories were in the kitchen where she was making meals. There were always homemade tortillas and I remember clearly that as she rolled them out, she would always hum a tune (it is such a cool trait that my daughter, Catalina, picked up on). Holidays are always family affairs, generation after generation would descend upon her home in Las Cruces and now in Albuquerque. People would always ask, “are you having tamales and posole for the Christmas dinner”, in which she would respond, “No, that’s an everyday meal. We have the traditional turkey and ham with all the fixings.”

I always saw her as the neck of the household. While the traditional roles always played out in the Romero home, with my grandpo as the head, she could “turn the head anyway she wants”.

My grandmother was always my intermediary when my mom and I didn’t see eye to eye. Always, preferring a peaceful resolution until she had enough and set everyone straight. Recently doing this at my son’s graduation when his dad was disrespectful and a few months later, when a couple of her own adult kids were ill-mannered toward her brothers. When my mom was riddled with cancer, her and my grandpo moved out here temporarily to be at her side and care for her. A year after my mom died, she had to bury her husband of 45 years. A few years later she moved from Las Cruces to Albuquerque with my aunt, Lisa, to be closer to the rest of her kids. And when I’m lucky, I get to see her in the front row of my shows.

It wasn’t until I was older that I learned of her life before creating her own family. I realized that she had dealt with her own adversity growing up. Her father was a farmer and they lived off the land. Also, after centuries of her ancestors living in Northern NM, and a history of growing up speaking Spanish, she was discriminated against because of it. Sadly, because of it, her children didn’t learn Spanish in the home. She also was adventurous. I realized I get my sense of travel and adventure from her. My grandmother was a waitress early in her life working primarily in Las Vegas, NM. However, she had a stint as a Harvey Girl. What’s that you may ask? They were young, single, intelligent and women of good character that waitress-ed for Fred Harvey Hotels along the railroad lines in the “wild west”.

Mr. Harvey wanted travelers to eat well. He is credited with providing good, wholesome food in a hurry. He knew passengers had 30 minutes to get off the train, eat, and get back on the train. He was successful because the railroad workers stayed in touch with the restaurant via the telegraph, so each Harvey House knew if a train was going to be late, and approximately how many hungry people they would have to feed. During World War II, they served troop trains, often filling every nook and cranny with hungry soldiers. Each waitress was trained in the way the Harvey House operated, and signed a six-month contract to work at a particular restaurant along the railroad line. At the end of six months, they could apply to work at a different location or stay at the current one. (from https://recollections.biz/blog/harvey-girls/)

My grandma spoke of working in Las Vegas, NM, Winslow and Grand Canyon, AZ. These women defined hospitality and the customer experience, perfectly appointed in a Victorian style of dress. She wore a crisp white dress with the black western bow tie. When I see her photo, in uniform, I look at it in awe–such a classic look.  And it reminds me that she’s always had this style about her, impeccable to this day. She and my great aunt, her older sister, Simmie worked as Harvey Girls for a number of years. My grandma recounted seeing Frank Sinatra and Judy Garland and serving Tony Curtis (although, she wasn’t a fan of the later—she said he was a jerk).

You have to reflect on where you’ve been to understand where you are going.

As I reflect on the past three years under Hopeless + Cause Atelier, I’ve realized the woman I’ve become and how it has shaped the brand. It is a brand that understands the beauty in nature and the delicate process of craftswomanship; valuing those around you who have shaped you to who you are today either by being incredible role models or teaching you life’s lessons; and understanding that you have to reflect on where you’ve been to understand where you are going. So, I’ll leave you with this, what’s your original dress story? What is the spark that inspired you? Maybe it’s been doused and needs rekindling? And if you need time to reflect on it, then I highly suggest a drive down Rio Grande, but try not to do it all at once, I don’t want the traffic congestion. ?

With light and love,

Dara

Have you ever read the series of books, Shopaholic, by Shophie Kinsella? I started reading them after I finished my undergrad education and reading books like Wuthering Heights, The Jungle, the history of America and statistics. They were a nice escape from academia and a light read. At times, I could relate to the main character Rebecca Bloomwood and her experiences with money. Totally awkward and embarrassing situations revolved around shopping and money mismanagement, but some how she always seemed to barrel through with innovative business ideas, job opportunities, oh and a millionaire beau. It was total fluff.

I grew up in the opulent and excessive 80’s, however, on the flip side. My parents divorced in 1983 and my mom returned to school full-time and working work-study at UNM. We learned of feast and famine. The beginning of the month was when she got paid. After all the bills were paid, she stocked up on groceries, which we enjoyed until mid-month when two young children would have eaten through the stash. Many times, she relied on support from my grandparents or on USDA commodities distributed at our local parish.

My first summer job was babysitting my 5 cousins between the ages of 1 and 10 years. It paid $150 per week and at the time I thought it was a million dollars. Every week, I used what I earned to pay for what I wanted and needed, not giving thought to putting some away for a rainy day. I moved on to working for a small manufacturing company throughout high school and early years of college. I decided that it was too much to balance college and work so I opted for the later. I got married in my early twenties and started a family. I was hired on full-time and worked in corporate America for 16 years. It was challenging. I was paid well and there were numerous benefits including a 401K, health benefits, and tuition reimbursement. It was easy to put money away and build a future while doing work I loved. I took advantage of the tuition reimbursement and returned to school. This time eager to learn. The nature of the work wasn’t entirely stable, so it was important to add to my resume additional education. I was the breadwinner in the home, never giving thought of not spending on wants. It was the height of “Real Housewives” and “Keeping Up with the Joneses” or actually the “Kardashians”. We lived beyond our means and I didn’t say said “no” when pushed about where the money went by my then husband asked. I also wanted to make sure my kids had all the things I didn’t have growing up…what a slippery slope?!? We traveled. We shopped. I gave generously to charity. I invested in luxury items and high-end brand names. It seemed a new vehicle would drive into our garage, every couple of years. While stressed, I knew things would always work themselves out. I think back to some of my shopping habits now and I laugh when I think, who needs 18 Fiestaware place settings. I’m still burning through my stockpile of Candlelite candles. The one thing I did cherish investing in was Louis Vuitton hand bags. I know this is going to sound super materialistic, but hear me out. I would buy a tote or bag once it came out and resell it a few months later for a profit, for example I bought a Monogram PM Neverful at $650 when it first came out, used it for 9 months (with great care) and resold it for $900. I think I missed out on something?!?

“Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.” Elizabeth Gilbert

When I was laid-off, I wasn’t entirely concerned. I knew if I worked hard I would find the next role that I could make a living from. However, as the rest of the country was coming out of the recession, New Mexico was still in the midst of it. I had the idea to follow my love of fashion and invest in a retail boutique (this was during the time that major layoffs and government shutdowns were happening in our state–not the best business move). I cashed out my 401(k) and invested half of it in the store and used the other half to help with expenses in the home until I could get to a place that we would become profitable. It didn’t. Not only did I lose out on bringing an income home (I estimated it was about $105,000 of household income that I could have generated if I had a paid position during this time), but because of the lack of my income, we had to give up our home. I also personally took on additional debt (securing loans my aunt and a friend over $15,000) to try to salvage the store, and I had been reduced to asking for money in my own household. Once the breadwinner, I had to ask for $7 to go to yoga (my only self-care during that period) every week. I was lucky when I was given $10 for coffee afterwards. I learned some valuable lessons during this time. I now understood the value of money. I had a great lesson in material things especially clothing and living beyond your means. I was also taught at the end of the day, no matter the relationship, I would need to care for myself.

After the store closed, I went on to do consulting work. Still working on my passion project of bespoke fashion, I opted not to jump in head first this time but to do it very thoughtfully and for the right reasons. I would fund it with my own earned income to make it sustainable. Hopeless + Cause Atelier started to get noticed. I had a few friends and family members who really saw my talent and supported me. However, I think the toll of it all had but an unrecoverable strain on my marriage (that and other issues). As my marriage was ending, I found a consulting role that paid a livable wage. I was not only able to do something I was skilled at, but I also was able put money aside into retirement again and take care of myself and my kids. However, I was still living paycheck-to-paycheck, and didn’t have a rainy-day fund. I also realized that I had become a single mom. While my kids were both 18 years and older, their needs didn’t stop. They were both in college full-time and trying to work part-time. My priorities for them are to get college education with as little student debt as they can, and to make sure they felt safe and secure during this transition time for them. As life happens, my daughter was in two car accidents within two months, my son had college expenses that weren’t covered by scholarships, but needed to be paid until we could figure out what student aid was available. I had car problems and legal issues that needed to be resolved, and the basic household expense responsibilities. Once again, I had to access my retirement savings to make sure these things were taken care of. Then my role ended, and I really didn’t know what to do.

After everything, I know there is a reason to be on this journey.

I had a couple of months of income instability, until I landed my next role with another non-profit. I swear the universe enjoys challenging me and taking me out of my comfort zone. I was hired on to support innovation and technology with a well-known non-profit working with New Mexicans to remove barriers and provide opportunities to stability and asset building. What does mean? At the core, it is empowering them to understand and build their own financial futures. The first few weeks were rough. I focused on learning about the average American and realizing all the studies could have been about me. I learned:

A 2016 Federal Reserve Board study showed that nearly half of all Americans (46%) could not afford an unexpected $400 expense unless they borrowed money or sold assets. Research from a Consumer Financial Protection Bureau report shows:

– 24% of all workers admit their personal finances have been a distraction at work;
– 40% of employees want help achieving financial security; and 
– 81% of workers say worries about financial problems have affected their productivity.

Financial woes lead to stress, health issues, relationship issues, and risky behaviors. This one is the kicker, according to one of the studies I read, “individuals have admitted to lying to family and friends due to the lack of money”. I think of the number of times I’ve asked to reschedule lunch or dinner dates citing, “something has come up” because I either was trying to conserve my gas or didn’t have the funds for a night out. And, it’s expensive to be poor. I went three months without a stable income, I tried to stay on top of my bills as much as I could however I did have to pay my rent late which meant approximately an additional $100 I didn’t have. Luckily, I had a guardian angel or two looking out for me and my kids. I think that is why I’m been so motivated to get this new role working in the community. Finances are not something we normally talk about—there is shame involved. We see on social media how perfectly curated life is…beautiful meals, exquisite travel destinations, laughter with friends and family and posed looks. And I’m not saying we shouldn’t focus on the good, but it’s not always real and for some it’s plain depressing to not feel like their life is living up to that bar. Just this week, I read about the Colorado man who allegedly killed his pregnant wife and two daughters and the details speculate how their life wasn’t as beautifully curated as it was portrayed on Facebook (which if it is all true, is horrific).

This blog has been ruminating around in my mind for quite some time, not sure I wanted to give it to the light of day, but recently, I’ve been talking with and hearing from friends who have had or are having their own financial struggles, especially women. I have a friend who had all the lavishes of life, but chose to no longer be lied to and devalued by her spouse. After 20 plus years of being a stay-at-home wife and mother, she is on her own, trying to rebuild her credit to buy a home, working full-time so she can create a nest egg, and most importantly to have health benefits. I had another conversation this week with a friend who shared her struggles as a single mother reminiscing of eating beans and green chile when times were tight. Her daughters now are professionals in the health field. Another dear friend is tending tables because of her student loan debt and struggling to find a full-time position with a masters degree. What I’ve learned is that while more women are college educated and are taking on debt at the same rates of men, they actually make less when they hit the job market (typically, $0.72 on the dollar unless you are a woman of color, then it’s much less), so taking home less. Ultimately, they have less to put away for rainy days or retirement savings. So, I believe it is important–we need to talk about it, and support each other if it’s only to say, “you’re not alone.”

Once again, I have started saving again (small amounts since I am still trying to get back on my feet). I do side gigss in writing and PR/Marketing to provide extra income. After everything, I know there is a reason to be on this journey. I’ve learned what to value. I thrift and I create (my latest KRQE segment, I didn’t have anything to wear, so I made it, LOL). My only excess expenditures are experiences and primarily travel, however I look for the deals and try to tie it to business whenever possible. I almost didn’t host my annual fashion show charity fundraiser this year. However, I decided to do it much more intimately because I figure if I raise a few hundred dollars than that will be a few more home bound and special needs neighbors that will get the care they need. And again, I rely on my tribe to make it happen with models, beauty team, production and photographers volunteering their time (you can learn more about it by visiting www.HopelessCauseAtelier.com/events). I also realized what a gift this has all been. I have truly understood the value of personal finance and creating opportunities for myself, but also hopefully for others through the work I do. If nothing else, it will help someone else understand that they are not alone and there are ways to improve your financial outcomes.

With light and love from a material girl, but one who now creates with it and no longer lives for it!

Dara Sophia