Hi there! Remember me? How have you been? I know it’s been months and months since I last wrote. And honestly, I’ve tried, but I guess I haven’t had the right words. I’ve had several friends ask if they missed a post which made my heart happy, because they said they enjoy reading along my Ms. Adventures. I guess I’ve been in this weird purgatory type space where I haven’t had a million things going on, yet I guess I have. I’m a high-performing manic. The more I have going on the more I flourish, but when something gets in my way or I get in my head I become absolutely avoidant and check out from everything. 2024 got me feeling this way with a sense of uneasiness. I don’t know about you, but this hits differently.
2020 – the world pandemic; 2021 – I was diagnosed with breast cancer, underwent a mastectomy (5 weeks recovery) and radiation therapy (6 weeks of daily treatments); 2022 – broke my ankle and because of subsequent surgery was out of work for 6 weeks; and 2023 – had reconstructive surgery that resulted in 4 days ICU and 8 weeks recovery.
Yet through all these years I was excited to overcome these obstacles and live my best life. And, boy I did. I created beautiful memories with family and friends here at home, across the country and abroad. Since I last wrote, I traveled with my BF to NYC for the holiday season and celebrated NYE in Denver, and I survived another retail holiday season (if you’ve never worked retail, you have no idea what an accomplishment it is). I started January full of promise, big eyed and bushy tailed. I used points to book a flight to NYC for fashion week in February and a trip in April to Austin in April to be extra ears for a friend considering buying into a franchise and then my champagne dreams on a beer budget went flat.
Have you seen this? OMGEEE I can so relate. If you asked my brother, I bet he’d say that was me growing up…righting the wrongs. You go Marnie! Bloody Hell!!
Maybe it’s the economy? And the uneasiness of a presidential election year? And the potential of war around the world? Maybe I’m just old and pay more attention to these things than I should, but I’ve never cancelled trips before. January I got hit by major car issues and I think what I was most upset about is the fact that I was taken advantage of and paid for preventative maintenance to only find out that it wasn’t performed. At the same time I had past debt pop up…blah blah blah…we all have debt (well, maybe not everyone) but I feel like Dallas, the clairvoyant from NYC, profoundly stated years ago on 5th Avenue, “you constantly take 1 step forward and end up taking two steps back”.
One day when I was figuring out why I haven’t been ahead since 2020, I realized over the past three years because of medical expenses I’ve lost out on $25,000 in income (that doesn’t include estimated income lost from retirement savings). And don’t get me wrong, I am incredibly grateful to be healthy, to have a job and healthcare and for some reason I am incredibly blessed because God always finds a way to provide. I was working overtime and gratefully had commissioned dresses to help pay one of my debts down quickly. I was working toward another when last week I was informed, that overtime is no longer available to me. Sometimes you have to go with the flow…but I also understand how, in this economy, someone can be severely impacted by one major expense like medical or automobile expense. So, when I am asked for help, I CANNOT NOT help.
There were fashion shows and drives. At times I feel like I am the richest woman in the world because of the incredible people in my life and the opportunities that have been bestowed upon me. 2024 has been no different. In February, I was approached by another production company to show in MILAN, ITALY (yes, for fashion week). After reviewing the proposal, the 10,000 euros in production costs was out of my budget. But what do they say, “what comes around goes around?!” Last month, I received an invitation from the production company that produced my Paris Fashion Week show in 2023. The proposed production costs were a third of the former and about 2,000 euros less than Paris. This really gave me food for thought (but more on that in a minute),
I’ve battled demons that won’t let me sleep Called to the sea but she abandoned me
But I won’t never give up, no, never give up, no, no No, I won’t never give up, no, never give up, no, no
Never Give Up, Sia
A couple of weeks ago, I had my annual breast MRI. And as any woman that has dealt with breast cancer or questionable scans, you know the feeling of apprehension and anxiety and want to get through the tests as quickly as possible. MRIs are uncomfortable as it is because the tube you are drawn into can lead to a feeling claustrophobia. Breast MRI requires you to lay on your chest balancing on a rod along your sternum while trying to stay as straight as possible. Added excitement for me happens when my veins hear that an IV is coming. They immediately hide (no matter how much water I drank the day before), so that just adds to the fun. The only redeeming factor of this procedure is that the medical staff asks if you’d like to listen to music while you lay as still as humanly possible. The first time I had an MRI, I was asked the same question and big dummy me said, “I’d like to listen to Lady Gaga radio”. That was the most difficult 20 minutes in my life (how can you listen to Lady Gaga and not want to dance?). But after that, I’ve learned I can listen to Sia radio because I listen intently to her lyrics and find solace in that thunderstorm. After clicks and strumming of the machine and praise for my ability to stay still, the session was over. The next day, I received a call from scheduling, the appointment I had with my breast surgeon for the next week needed to be rescheduled. I guess my mammogram wasn’t scheduled so it too needed to be added. The woman scheduled both for August, so of course I felt that the MRI must have went well since there wasn’t a rush to meet with doctor. I went on with the rest of my week.
That following Sunday, after a full day of activities, I stopped by the post office to pick up my mail because I had been told that I should have received an invitation. I didn’t find the invite within my mail bundle but instead a letter from the office that performed my MRI. In the letter, it stated that I had just performed my screening and there was something found within that required an additional look. The letter also included a note that said most of the time there is nothing to worry about (sure tell that to someone who’s been diagnosed with cancer). And what the hell, why didn’t they call (the letter was dated the day after I had my doctor appointment rescheduled). I think my heart fell into my stomach and anxiety set in. I tried with the best intentions to just go to sleep. Monday morning, I called to reschedule my mammogram to an earlier date because of this finding. The associate on the phone was kind and helpful. She scheduled me for the next morning. I wasn’t sure there was anything to worry about but the unknowing is the hardest thing, so I went on that day working on a commissioned dress. I have found focusing on something outside myself is the best stress relief for me.
I had a one-way ticket to a place where all the demons go Where the wind don’t change And nothing in the ground can ever grow No hope, just lies And you’re taught to cry into your pillow But I survived
Alive, Sia
I arrived at the appointment. The mammogram technician asked the obligatory questions about the visit, “have I noticed any changes in my breast or did I have any concerns?” I responded about the note I received. She read her notes and said there wasn’t anything specific noted for her to image and that the MRI scan came back benign, but she would do her due diligence. If there was anything that needed a further, they’d pull me in for an ultrasound. I went through the contorted smashing of my breast and then was ushered to the waiting room. The ultrasound would be next.
This waiting room…what can I say. It is set up like a spa waiting area with water and tea available, soothing music, art on the walls and tables and a big window overlooking the dirt parking lot next door. I understand the concept but as I looked around the room at the women who were there with me awaiting their next step, one was pacing and one was softly crying. I got up to get water and offered to get the woman next to me who was in her feels a drink too. About 10 minutes later, I was called into the dark ultrasound room. The sonographer remembered me from the year before, I guess when you’re asked what you do and you say you’re a personal stylist at Macy’s, and the only one in Albuquerque, it’s a lasting impression. Although, now that I think about it, none of my medical team has come into see me after they constantly say they need to. I guess it’s hard to go from scrubs to real clothes, but I digress. After each click of the machine, I couldn’t help to think what is she photographing, but a few minutes later she gave me a napkin to clean up the goop and said she was going to get the doctor. I sat there as I heard the two of them talking when the door opened the doctor was talking about his daughter getting a fellowship to Oxford when the sonographer redirected him by introducing me to him. He went on to introduce himself say something like, “everything is clear; see you in a year.” Who says bedside manner is dead. LOL!
I put my armor on, show you how strong I am I put my armor on, I’ll show you that I am
I’m unstoppable I’m a Porsche with no brakes I’m invincible Yeah, I win every single game I’m so powerful I don’t need batteries to play I’m so confident Yeah, I’m unstoppable today
Unstoppable, Sia
I left with a huge weight lifted from my shoulders. I got in my car and said a prayer of gratitude and texted the few people that knew what I was going through over the past 48 hours. I then realized, this is my life. I all I can do is live life to the fullest every day and pray for good results but you never know what’s ahead of you. If you are still with me (and I hope you are). I’m going to share a little more how this continued to hit home.
At a recent graduation party, I was asked to highlight a verse or scripture in the Bible for the graduate to take with them on their next chapter. I was stopped in my tracks because there is so many beautiful passages and knowledge found to share that I got overwhelmed and wrote a note instead. A few nights ago, I read this passage from Romans and I was overwhelmed with emotion (so intensely that tears streamed down my face) because I thought of the suffering and struggles of the past few years. I then remembered the suffering this love experienced and how there is so much hope for the future, so I sent a text with this passage and I explained my delay and asked that it be highlighted from me with love. 🤍💜🤍 I’ve said this before, but you can’t life a full life without suffering and as much as we all hate it (I know I’m generalizing, some sadists enjoy it), it softens us and makes us more human—built by perseverance and relishing in hope and joy. I have also found that it pushes me to do all the things even when I feel it’s not possible but all things are possible through my faith and the support around me.
This past week, I was once again reminded that Life is a Gift (La Vita e un Dono). Since I began creating under the label, Hopeless + Cause Atelier almost 9 years ago, I have been gifted with some incredible people. People who have become friends and family. Creative beautiful souls that I’ve been able to bring along these Ms. Adventures all over the world. Our lives have been connected with the thread to create beauty, confidence and self-empowerment through fashion and design. Sadly, this week we said good-bye to one of those beautiful souls. I met Jocelyn Lopez in 2017 through an introduction of a mutual friend. Jocelyn, who by profession, was a hair artist jumped in to help with one of my local shows and when I had my first opportunity to show for New York Fashion Week, she relished at the chance to join me and help me bring my creations to life. I still remember the morning she, another stylist friend and I met and talked about the looks. She assembled the team and not only did we rock the hometown preview but also took NYFW by storm. Last year, when she heard I was going to Paris she asked if she could join me for hair. I sent a request to the production company asking if she could join the local team. I wish I would have pushed harder because as I wrote before, the hair team showed up late and we ended up helping the models with their hair needs. As I read her obituary, her sister wrote that one of her biggest professional accomplishments was working NYFW and that made my heart happy that I could be part of that. Her excitement and zest for life and travel will be missed, but I think I can honor her by living life to the fullest and taking advantage of the opportunities presented to me.
Again the fragility of life, reminded me to go after all the things life has to offer. It will all sort itself out. It also isn’t lost on me that tomorrow June 10th, is the one year anniversary since my gram died.
So I did it, I signed the contract and am planning to do Milan Fashion Week on September 19, 2024. I am once again planning a hometown preview to help defray the costs and provide some fashionable entertainment to my friends and family in the Albuquerque community. I am grateful that Alpha + Lit Albuquerque Santa Fe has already committed to sponsor (thank you Tanya) and Carol Crist from All About You Weddings and Events has come on board as an in-kind sponsor helping with the planning of the event because this girl can use all the help she can get. I hope you will save the date for August 25, 2024. It is a Sunday and I am planning a brunch time show for the Atelier’s 9th birthday. Once I secure the location, I’ll share ticket information. However if you know any beautiful venues, a lovely garden would be perfect, please send those ideas my way.
Until then, you can catch Hopeless + Cause Atelier at Meow Wolf’s Absolute Rubbish: a Trashion Show on Thursday, June 13th in Santa Fe. I am partnering with my beautiful friend, Sofi, to bring to life the Phoenix…guess whose music she’ll be bringing to life the look to?!?
I hope to be back soon with more information and I’ll be remixing my obstacles to opportunities, my suffering into gratitude and my avoidance to action.
I’m goin’ to fly, goin’ so high Goin’ to live, live my life Goin’ to fly, I’m so high Live my, live my life
One night in Milan is like one year in rehab Let’s cancel all our plans, it’s a- (ah, pleasure, pleasure)
May it be Your will, G‑d, our G‑d and the G‑d of our fathers, that You should lead us in peace and direct our steps in peace, and guide us in peace, and support us in peace, and cause us to reach our destination in life, joy, and peace (If one intends to return immediately, one adds: and return us in peace). Save us from every enemy and ambush, from robbers and wild beasts on the trip, and from all kinds of punishments that rage and come to the world. May You confer blessing upon the work of our hands and grant me grace, kindness, and mercy in Your eyes and in the eyes of all who see us, and bestow upon us abundant kindness and hearken to the voice of our prayer, for You hear the prayers of all. Blessed are You G‑d, who hearkens to prayer.
Telfilat Haderech, The Traveler’s Prayer in English, translation from chabad.org (my dear friend, Emet, left this voice message for me in Hebrew years ago–I listen to it every time I travel)
If you’ve known me for a while, you’ve heard about my desire to do a fashion, food, football and faith tour of Europe. Challenge (mini-challenge) accepted. Here’s how these F words and more made it into this trip…
I felt like I had just fallen asleep when my alarm went off at 4:15am. I had packed and repacked, took a shower and laid out my clothes the night before so all I had to do in the morning was dress and brush my teeth. I wasn’t even going to put my contacts in because I knew I’d try to sleep again on the first leg. Isaiah arrived at 4:25am and sent a text asking if I was awake just a few minutes before he unlocked and opened the front door. We loaded up the car and headed to the airport in a silent drive as I’m sure we were both still asleep. As he approached the Southwest drop off point, I recognized the people who were parked at the curb. Shannon and Teresa, my travel companions, had also arrived. Isaiah unloaded my bags, gave me a hug and asked me to send him text updates throughout the next day and a half of my travel.
DAY 1 & 2 – SEPTEMBER 20-21, 2023 – FLIGHTS
If anyone is Christmas shopping for me, I’m a size window seat in plane tickets.
Then it hit me, right there at the airport on Wednesday, September 20, 2023, we were on our way to Paris for my latest Ms. Adventure for Paris Fashion Week. The excitement fed my adrenaline and it made me so happy to see that Shannon and Teresa were just as excited. We checked our bags at the counter and worked our way through security. It seemed like half of Albuquerque had also decided to travel on this morning, as the lines were the longest I had seen in quite sometime. We got settled and talked about the adventure ahead of us when Shannon pulled out little travel bags for each of us filled with face masks, lip balm, hand sanitizer, motion sickness patches, hand bag hooks and hat holders….such incredibly thoughtful things that set the mood to the entire trip.
Our Southwest flight would take us to Dallas for our connection to LaGuardia in NYC. We got on the plane and took what became our customary selfie, it’s what we would do throughout our travels. We had a short layover before boarding the next leg to NYC. We arrived just before 3:00pm and our international flight was departing from JFK, which with traffic could be a car ride anywhere from a 45 minute to 1.5 hours depending on the traffic, so we grabbed fries from Shake Shake (the best burger and fries joint there is…In-n-Out fans, come at me bro!), grabbed our bags and ordered an Uber. I wish we had time to grab lunch in the city or see anything more than Manhattan skyline from the traffic we experienced going from the Flushing neighborhood of Queens to the Jamaica neighborhood of Queens (and there was a lot). We checked in with more photos and packing adjustments.
We got to our gate and had a proper meal from Shake Shack. We had a little bit of time so we checked email, talked about the upcoming days and just rested. As we started to board, I could feel the excitement rising even more. After grinning ear-to-ear, as I saw Shannon and Teresa in their seats, I took mine. The captain announced all the details as the on plane safety video went into effect. I was ready for take off but our plane was not. It felt like we did a couple of laps around JFK before we finally took to the air. I started a conversation with my seat mate (I always grab a window seat for red-eye flights so I can try some sort of contorted sleep). He asked what I was going to Paris for. I explained I was participating in Paris Fashion Week. I could see the wheels turning in his head. I do not have the stereotypical look of a fashion designer. I was wearing my jogger jumpsuit, a NYC sweatshirt, and my Adidas (I know you’re singing Run DMC right now) with glasses and hair in a bun but I was also dressed this way because this was also my red-eye sleeping attire . As he asked questions on what it took to show in Paris fashion week, I explained all my accomplishments from NYC to London to major magazines like Vogue and Elle and how I received an invitation from this particular production company. I continued the conversation and asked about his travels, after we landed in Paris he was continuing on to Berlin for what I had read just hours earlier is a marathon that draws close to 50,000 participants. It was a great conversation about accomplishing goals. Dinner service started and then I attempted to wind down and hopefully get a little sleep. Sadly, I’m not one of those travelers that can fall asleep in any setting. I did get an hour or two until the pilot announced that we were on our descent. EEK we had arrived! We gathered our on board luggage and headed off the plane to a eerily empty gate. We walked for a while before we to border patrol and got our stamp for France (on my last European Ms. Adventures, I only received a stamp in France as England had gone to biometric scanning for passports). We gathered the rest of our luggage and hailed a taxi to Noisy-Le-Grand, our home away from home (and home base) for the next two weeks.
Our home base for the two weeks (kind of looks like Emerald City from Wizard of Oz, doesn’t it?!?).
I was nervous about being in Paris. If you recall the last time I went, I was afraid that I’d have cigarettes flicked into my hair because I didn’t speak French. Since 2019, I’ve been learning the language off and on through Duolingo and watching as many French sitcoms and movies to get a better feel for the language. I definitely didn’t have a comprehensive vocabulary, but did know a few helpful phrases. When we checked in, I asked, in French, if the front desk attendant spoke English when she obliged, we got checked in and she informed me that our room wasn’t quite ready yet, but they could hold our bags while we went out for breakfast. Luckily, the front desk mentioned there was a mall just across the street…less than a 15 minute walk away. The mall, Les Arcades Centre Commercial, included a grocery store (it reminded me of my youth, going to Juarez supermarkets with each area carved out like shops within a marketplace–produce, cheese, bakery, meat, wines, etc), post office, florist, wine shop, lots of fabulous clothing shops and American favorites like Starbucks, McDonalds, H&M and Zara. However, we were seduced by Paul’s and their delectable case-line filled with pastries like Tarte de Pommes, Beignets, Croissant and Pain au Chocolate, which is what I settled on, plus a Cafe au Lait. I WAS IN HEAVEN!! After exploring a bit, jet lag set in and we settled into our room and talked about our plans for the next couple of days: Friday–Palais du Versailles and Saturday–Les Puces flea market.
DAY 3 – FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 2023 – FRENCH ROYALTY (YOU SO FANCY)
Queens twirl in palaces…that’s all.
The weather was cool and a little dreary with spots of rain, but it looked like the afternoon would be clearing up. So based on the weather, we decided to get tickets for 13:30 (it’s military hours in Europe, so not only did we have to translate to PM hours but when we were talking to folks back home we had to remember we were 8 hours ahead–yes, it got confusing at times). I had predetermined a few of my looks for this trip. I had come across a pink tulle skirt at work and I thought I could make it more edgy with a muscle tee (avec shoulder pads) and kicks. When going to a palace one must twirl in a “coquette style” pink skirt. So we headed out to Versailles.
Somethings to know about Paris: 1) traffic is horrendous and 2) there is graffiti everywhere. Most of the time our Uber drivers avoided Paris proper but still it seemed like we were always stuck in traffic. We arrived to the grandeur that is know as Palais du Versailles. It drizzling and we had to get in line for our time slot, which was long, but moved rather quickly. The palace or Chateau was celebrating 400 years and had recently renovated Petit Trianon, or Marie Antoinette’s villa away from court life. I was so excited to see this and the Hall of Mirrors. We chatted with students in front of us and Americans behind us. Knowing me, you know I like to stay behind the scenes not drawing much attention to myself, but our new friends asked what brought us to Paris and Shannon, who is such an incredible cheerleader for her friends, brought up the fact that I was showing for Paris Fashion Week and Teresa was walking for me. Again, that imposter syndrome set in I just blushed in gratitude.
The palace was incredible with room-after-room of extravagance and beauty and the view of the gardens from each window was breathtaking, but the Hall of Mirrors stopped me in my tracks. It was grand and lavish and so many important world events have taken place in this room. It was one of the reasons I wanted to visit and it was well worth it. We worked our way through the military halls and other museum spaces until we came to the end and were quite famished, luckily Angelina was on the premises and we settled for a late lunch. I learned early on that wine is cheaper than water in Europe. And, it’s gooood stuff. After we ate, we decided to walk the grounds. We started out but the gardens alone seemed like it went on forever (according, to the Versailles website the palace, gardens, buildings, park and Trianon are 800 hectares or 2,000 acres).
There was so much to see and so much we weren’t able to fit in (until next time).
Shannon made the right decision for us to jump on the train to get the most out of the gardens and park. As we were riding, the driver talked about certain areas that were closing. I overheard that the stop we were currently at was the Petit Trianon, or Marie Antoinette’s apartment home. I hoped off and quickly ran through the beautiful space with brightly decorated rooms filled with champagne, billiards tables, busts of the queen, even commode rooms decorated regally, and of course they had a staged “cake”. Besides the Hall of Mirrors, this was my other MUST SEE and I’m so happy I did. Friday, I’m in love…with Versailles.
DAY 4 – SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2023 – FLEAMARKETS AND FLOORS OF FASHION
I may work in fashion but I’m a thrifter at heart.
When I decided to do a 10-hour trip to Paris in 2019, I reached out to two friends whom have family in France Sofi and Jamie, They gave me great tips to fill my hours, so when I returned I asked Jamie again about a place she has lovingly posted about over the years, the Paris flea market or Marche aux Puces. We took another Uber to Saint Ouen just north of the 18th arrondissement. We were dropped off under a bridge filled with parked cars and for a half moment I thought we were walking in China Town, NYC. The first few rows of vendors were the type I think of going to flea markets: faux luxury brand goods, electronics, and household items, but the deeper and deeper we walked the more wonderful it became. Antique shops. Shop owners sitting al fresco at their bistro tables with lunch and wine ready to make a deal to the patrons walking by. Beautiful secret gardens and historic finds like WWII badges and early 1900’s French made ceramics. I travel with my mini Our Lady of Guadalupe and St. Jude retablos and I found the perfect St. Michael the Archangel to add. We visited this sublime vintage Chanel store. It was quite lovely to see all the jewelry, bags and clothing by the house of Coco as well as the other designers contained with in.
We had our own lovely lunch al fresco. We started with dessert–a fig tart that was divine then moved on to wonderful French dishes and of course wine (it was Rose all day, pretty much everyday for me). Shannon had found a beautiful quilted Chanel bag at another vintage shop earlier in the day when she decided she must have it so we went back and it was fun to see her so giddy about her purchase. We continued on to a quaint antique shop and the shop keeper asked what brought us to Paris and Shannon talked about our upcoming days. The shop keeper shared some great ideas to continue the fashion momentum like the Musee D’orsay, Palais de Tokoyo, Musee de la Mode and Musee Yves Saint Laurent. They all sounded amazing. It would be a matter of fitting them in on our few days with nothing planned. Next, I wanted to take Shannon and Teresa to Galleries Lafayette Haussmann. Which was my introduction to Paris in 2019 and the place I got my bearings. The rooftop provides an incredible 360 view of Paris.
Of course it was quite crowded for a Saturday afternoon and my friends got a little distracted by the luxury shops: Tiffany, Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Hermes, etc on the first floor, then again on the eighth floor when they spied all the fun souvenirs they could take home, but I finally got them to the rooftop and the breathtaking view of Paris. On September 11, 2019, I arrived alone to the rooftop and shared a little video that I had made it to Paris, so of course I had to do something similar. We took a few photos and then made our way back down. It was a shopping mecca and once again Shannon was drawn to Chanel. The gals bought lots of goodies. I left with my favorite, macarons from Pierre Herme. For dinner, we settled for a local chain, Hippopotamus, known for their steak options. Shannon was thinking aloud about this option, “STEAK DE CHEVAL CLASSIQUE”. Immediately, I was glad for my Duolingo and asked her if she wanted to eat horse. She cringed and said, “no” and I was glad I didn’t have to witness that. I don’t recall what she ordered, but I chose the salmon. We returned to the hotel and packed for Rome and Nice.
DAY 5 – SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 2023 – FOUNTAINS& FOOD
Life is short, do all the things.
When we got back to the hotel, Teresa and Shannon wanted to wash some clothes for the next leg and after packing and repacking, I don’t think they crashed until after 1am. I am a light packer, planning to take only my backpack for the next 4 days. Our flight out of Orly to Roma Fiumicino was departing at 7:10am so we caught an Uber at 5am. We checked into our gate and grabbed a bite to eat and coffee and as we were sitting there I realized that the flight attendants that were waiting to board “our gate” were wearing Portugal uniforms, when I looked up to see that the gate had changed. We rushed over to our new gate just in time to board. The two hour flight got us into Rome a little after 9:00am as we deplaned, we looked to go through customs to get our passport stamped. No such luck but as we stopped and looked a man asked if he could assist us. We explained our situation and he mentioned since we traveled from France we were traveling through the European Union and wouldn’t need to go through customs. At the same time another man approached us and asked if we needed a taxi, as Teresa and I started talking to him, another man approached and started taking pictures of her. That freaked us all out. The first man gave us some more advice. He said to only accept rides with the white taxis and go to the official taxi line outside. It was great way to wake us up and prepare for the time in Rome. As we drove, from the airport into the city the landscape went from fields and farms to a city filled with ancient ruins and newer buildings. Cars were parked every where…in the medians on the side walks, like Paris, the vehicles were much smaller than the US. And also like Paris, graffiti was everywhere.
This was our view from our bedroom window in Rome.
I had been communicating with the hotel over the course of the last few weeks through WhatsApp. The hotel and suites, Little Queen Suite, only has an attendant from 8am to 1pm, so I made sure to let them know when we landed and were on our way. We arrived at our non-descript hotel (really, it was a large door with a buzzer and no sign overhead). I was a little nervous about what I had booked. As we walked inside, we came across the smallest elevator I had ever seen. The three of us could squeeze in there like sardines, but there would be no way luggage would fit, so I opted to take the stairs since Teresa and Shannon had small roller bags. We checked in with Marta. She mentioned that the room was being cleaned and would be ready in about an hour and suggested we grab a bite to eat. We left our bags there and headed out across the Torre del Papito piazza dei Calcarari we found a little pizza shop. The nice thing about being in Italy is that Italian is close to Spanish. Teresa is fluent in Spanish and Shannon and I know enough to get by. We settled on Arancini (heavenly fried rice and cheese balls), zucchini pizza and wine/Aperol Spritz (because when in Rome).
“Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.”
Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat. Pray. Love.
Sitting there it hit me, “Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.” As I looked at the ruins around us it got a little heavy as I thought about the beginnings of Hopeless + Cause Atelier and I remembered after I delivered Jennifer her first look for Diner en Blanc how I went home and watched, “Eat. Pray. Love.” and how this line impacted me. And as I watched it again, how the word “Tutti” (Italian for everybody) came to play in those that I’ve been blessed by supporting me and those I have been able to bring along for the ride. This would be the first time I would cry on this trip, not of sadness but instead deep gratitude knowing I was meant to be there in that moment with my friends. It was still early in the day and we had received a map from Marta. Realizing that the Pantheon was less than a 10 minute walk, from there the Trevi Fountain was another 6 minute walk and less than 10 minutes was the Spanish Steps. We went back to the hotel. Our room was lovely, but the view, breathtaking. There were three of us throughout our travels so the rooms were typically a queen bed and a twin or sofa bed. Since I move so much in my sleep, I told them I’d take the later. The thing about this room is that the shower area was open with glass walls. I didn’t understand how anyone in a room that accommodates more than two people (so more than just your lover) could take a shower as it was, so we made a make shift wall out of towels for privacy. A very European addition in the water closet was a bidet. I had seen them before but hadn’t stayed in the room that had that option (and for my 50 new things goal this year, I made sure to use it). We freshened up and set out on our walking adventure. Sadly, the day before Shannon did something to hurt her knee and we were in the walking capital with thousands of stairs, but she was a trooper through it all.
It was the first Sunday of autumn and the streets were bustling with people. The weather was warmer that we had planned for. We had heard from friends and family about pickpocketing so we made sure to keep our wallets close (I wore a crossbody where the bag laid across my chest). I plugged in our destination in Google Maps and put an earbud to guide us. We arrived at the Pantheon in sheer awe. The building is thousands of years old and the magnitude of the columns and dome was incredible to believe that humans built it without modern tools, and as the YouTube link, contained within, states has been copied throughout the world through the Neo-classical style.
Unfortunately, the line was so long that we opted to move on to the next wonder. However we could feel the heat and with all the shops and restaurants, I suggested we get gelato. Now before this trip. I had no idea there were differences between the gelato in Italy. Teresa educated us on what she learned from TikTok (#fakegelato). Authentic gelato comes in metal tins to keep the right temperature and aren’t piled in mounds. Also, the colors are natural. It was funny to see us pop into the shops to see if they were authentic or not. We decided we’d find one after Fontana di Trevi. But there is so much to see along every street, we popped into Chiesa di Sant’Ignazio di Loyola, and was amazed by this 17th century Roman Catholic Church featuring trompe l’oeil ceilings (deceiving the eye–or illusionistic ceiling) & frescoes depicting St Ignatius.
We arrived with the crowds to Fontana di Trevi. Again, the incredible beauty of this man made water feature. According to Trevi Fountain Facts, “The legend holds that a coin thrown into the fountain will ensure a return to Rome. This tradition also dates back to the ancient Romans who often threw coins in water to make the gods of water favor their journey or help them get back home safely. Throw in a second coin if you’re seeking love – or even a third for wedding bells!” (https://www.walksofitaly.com/blog/art-culture/9-surprising-facts-trevi-fountain-rome). As we worked our way through the crowds, we made it to the edge to toss in our own coins. I stopped at one–LOL! After a few more photos, we worked our way out but not before we were stopped by street vendors trying to sell electronics and selfie sticks. Shannon haggled with one and got one at a good price. Though out this time, Teresa jumped back on TikTok to find an authentic gelato shop, The Gelatist, and it was on the way to the Spanish Steps. We stopped in and each got our favorite flavor. I opted for Tiramisu. I could eat gelato every day and not feel bad because I knew I’d be walking it off. As we got back on track, we stumbled upon a Sephora, realizing early on I had forgotten my signature red lipstick, I asked if we could pop in.
Spanish steps were made famous by Roman Holiday featuring Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck.
We made it to the Piazza di Spanga. All around us was so much to see: the Spanish Embassy, in front of us Fontana della Baracia, to the left all the luxury brands you could imagine, and to the right the Spanish Steps. There were people, people, people everywhere. I had read weeks before that you couldn’t sit on the steps, let alone stop and stand on them without the police asking you to move or citing you. Maybe they gave breaks on Sunday? Because there were people sitting and standing everywhere. Shannon’s knee was not playing nice, so she stayed at the fountain as Teresa and I walked up all 135 of them, pausing at each of the three terraces (referenced to the holy trinity) and going into Santissima Trinità dei Monti. Another beautiful and awe inspiring church. I have to admit when we got to the top I wanted to throw my fist up in the air like Rocky, but I refrained.
When we left the church we looked down to see if we could find Shannon before we made our descent. As we got to the bottom, we decided to head back to the hotel. We were all tired so we thought it would be nice to relax for a bit before we headed out. We figured out we had access to Netflix so I opted to start MILF. It’s a French story about three best friends who go to the French Rivera (une petite coquine). After a little rest, we decided to have dinner at Pasta e Vino Osteria. There was one right out side our hotel with the front door man selling the menu but there was no outdoor seating so we went to the one that was on the other corner of the street (they were literally less than 100 meters away from each other). We were sold by the hand made pasta being made in the front window and the prices. We started with Burrata (which became a must at each meal through out our Ms. Adventures) and wine and then each of us ordered a different dish to share family style. I have to admit I LOVE PASTA and BREAD, but after doing Keto for a few years I have found that I can no longer eat it because it does not love me. This was not the case in Europe. It’s freshly made and I feel like there is less genetically modified wheat used. The food was amazing and the service was exceptional, but I think that’s because our waiter was in love with Teresa. We went back to the room to finish watching MILF fully content.
DAY 6 – MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2023 – FAITH & FASCINATION
Say a little prayer for me.
I was not aware of the cornetto until watching “Something from Tiffany’s” if croissant and pan dulce had a baby…just delicious (and make sure to add the cute movie to your holiday watch list)
I could write a series of books on all the history we saw on this day, but this is a blog and I don’t want to loose you, so instead I hope to inspire you…so here I go.
As Shannon got ready for the day, Teresa and I went to the cafe around the corner to get espressos and pastries. The neighborhood was already buzzing. We had a scheduled tour of the Vatican and according to google maps, it was a 23 minute walk. As we got half way through Shannon suggested we take the bus or catch a cab. We got an Uber and glad we did as the route was over the River Tiber and the Vatican sits atop a hill (and we still had more that 16,000 steps ahead of us). We were dropped off at the steps of the entrance. It was filled with vendors selling scarves and other items. Dress code for the Vatican required modest dress with arms covered and if wearing a dress or skirt, midi-length and no shorts. I had brought my cardigan but it was already warm so I haggled with the vendor for a beautiful floral scarf. We were a little early for our scheduled time so we walked around and found a cute shop filled with Italian trendy fashion. We shopped for a bit and were able to hold our packages there until after our tour.
We got to our meeting site and met our tour guide, Jag. There were a dozen of us in the English-speaking group, but it was fun that not all of us were Americans. I thought the Vatican was big but I definitely underestimated the size and how much beauty was contained with. As I’ve been telling friends about this trip, I say we visited Paris, Rome, Nice, Monte Carlo and Reims, but I forgot that the Vatican is a city-state and the smallest country in the world…but oh so worldly.
Our tour guide shared that as you walk by this tapestry of Jesus his eyes follow you….yes, they do. Simply amazing.
We walked through the square and before we walked into the museums, our tour guide first talked about the history and the story behind the Sistine Chapel. Again, there were crowds (according to what we were told, there are nearly 30,000 visitors daily). As we walked through I was in awe of the juxtaposition of Egyptian and Roman influence against center of Catholic leadership. There were beautiful sculptures, tapestries, paintings and of course the ceilings. The ceiling frescos amazed me because I couldn’t fathom how they were painted. It’s not like Michelangelo could paint Adam take a step back to see the proportion to God and easily make the edits…from a 66′ ceiling. I was like a kid waiting for Santa Claus on Christmas Eve and while the museums were breath taking, I was SO excited when our tour guide said the next room was the Sistine Chapel. We were told there was no speaking (holy space) or taking photos (flash could damage the paintings) while we were in there or we could be escorted out by security or even worse, banned.
Our tour guide may or may not have shared a way to take photos and I may or may not have got a few (you’ll have to judge for yourself in the video). We moved onto St. Peter’s Basilica. Again, I was moved by the massive yet beautiful church. As we walked around, we found that a rosary was going to be said while we were there. What a blessing! We joined in the Italian prayer. It was followed by mass, but because we had a scheduled a twilight tour of Rome. We headed out. But first, a quick shopping stop. The gals found all kinds of good things. I grabbed a few postcards and rosaries but it was so beautiful out, I grabbed a gelato and enjoyed all the traffic in the St. Peter’s Square.
We walked back to OVS, the fashion shop, to pick up our purchases and grabbed an Uber back to the hotel where we quickly freshened up and went to Museo Nazionale del Palazzo di Venezia, our meeting spot for the next tour. We met under the balcony in which Mussolini gave many of his famous speeches. Our tour guide greeted us and there was a dozen people in our group. We walked across the street to Piazza del Campidoglio which was designed by Michelangelo. As we walked up the Cordanta through the towering twin statues of Castor and Pollux. I started geek-ing out. While I am a Catholic by faith, I’m a total Greek and Roman Mythology history nerd. We continued through as our tour guide gave us the incredible history of the area. We reached the back side and paused at the Capitoline Wolf and we heard the story of the founding of Rome. The sculpture is of a she-wolf suckling twins Romulus and Remus and like any good Roman story there is a power grab, murder and intercession by gods.
As we walked down the cobblestone path, we were met by one of the over 2,500 nasone (or Roman drinking fountains) with with cool, clean water straight from the aqueducts. After watching our tour guide quench his thirst, I decided to add drinking from a nasoni to my 50 new things to try this year. Once I got a drink, I caught up with the group to arrive at Mamertine Prison. This is where St. Paul and St. Peter were said to be incarcerated in Rome. It was a somber experience. A stop me in my tracks view of the Forum was right around the corner. The Roman Forum, aka ancient city center, was incredible to witness as I took photos, I also took mental notes to learn more about this area when I returned home.
We continued walking along the historic Monti neighborhood. Currently, it is considered a hipster area, however in ancient times it was the seedy, red-light district of Rome, and I did see some of those moments when a fellow tour participant almost tripped over a dead rat as we began our ascent up the the Borgia Stairs. According to legend, “they lead from Via Cavour to Piazza di San Pietro in Vincoli (Saint Peter in Chains). The stairs pass under an ancient building associated with the notorious Borgia family (in particular, Vannozza dei Cattanei, the mistress of Pope Alexander VI, Rodrigo Borgia, and the mother of several of his children, including Cesare and Lucrezia). Legend has it that this was the site of the ancient Vicus Sceleratus (evil street) where Tullia ran her chariot over the body of her father, King Servius Tullius, in 509 B.C.E. Years later, Juan Borgia was assassinated here after leaving the Borgia property, perhaps by his own brother, Cesare. Despite association with these violent events, the staircase is very pretty, with ivy draping down from the building.(https://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g187791-d11864837-r478680963-Scalinata_dei_Borgia-Rome_Lazio.html)”.
It wasn’t an easy feat and by this time we had walked 18,000 steps. I know Shannon was feeling it but I’m sure she had the same reaction as me when we reached the top and saw the Coliseum. OMGEEE the incredible magnitude and beauty of this graphically haunting place. We descended the hill and arrived front an center of this world’s wonder. It was glorious at night. Our tour ended there and I highly recommend the twilight tour vs. a daytime tour. It is less crowded and hauntingly beautiful. After some confusion about Uber pick up spots, we finally got our ride for a late dinner date at Harry’s Bar. We arrived around 10:30pm and it was quiet. I thought maybe we were shutting the place down, but once we took our seats it seems we drew energy in and within minutes it was bustling. It was a lavish dinner before we headed back to our hotel. Our Uber driver got stopped randomly by the police…kind of scary but we got back to the hotel to pack for our next leg.
After a very late night, I still don’t think we’ve acclimated to our European time zone, Shannon and I slept in. Teresa was determined to go to mass and have the rosaries purchased the day before blessed. She came back to the room around 8am. I was up by this time and the two of us headed out to do some souvenir shopping. We headed to a religious shop that caters to priests. We stocked up on rosaries and other gifts. Teresa gifted me this beautiful sacred heart ornament. We grabbed pastries and coffee and brought it back to the room before packing up and heading to the airport. We left Rome about 11:00 am and arrived in Nice, France about 1:00 pm. As we stepped off the plane, I knew we arrived in a coastal paradise. We grabbed a cab and road along the Promenade des Anglais. The blue sky and blue waters went on as far as the eye could see only dotted by boats. We arrived at our hotel, La Villa Nice Promenade, and checked in. Josie and Jocelyn arrived earlier in the day and were on the beach taking it all in. We only had a couple of hours, at most, before we had to catch the train to Monte Carlo. Teresa and I decided to take a little walk to get the feel for our neighborhood and to see the beach.
We walked along the Promenade de Anglais and Teresa was inspired. She shared with me that her dad had gone parasailing on his honeymoon with her mom in Acapulco, Mexico. In that moment, she decided had to do that while we were there. We didn’t have time that evening so the next morning she made her reservation. We continued on and walked into Hotel Negresco. My friend, Rachel, who visits Nice often, suggested we walk through the hotel because of the amassed collection of artwork and the elegance of the building from the early 19th century. It was one of the many suggestions she provided for our visit (I just wish we had more time). Sadly, we weren’t allowed further than the lobby since we weren’t staying at the hotel. There was a hotel bar but we decided we’d come back when Shannon was able to join us. We continued down the road pass several shops and eateries. I even found a tattoo shop, but we didn’t have time for me to inquire about a mastectomy tattoo. We landed at Gelato D’Amore Nice and had a lovely conversation with the owner who was one of the few people we encountered in Europe that knew New Mexico was part of the United States and not part of Mexico. We got some gelato for ourselves and Shannon and headed back to the hotel.
We started to get ready for the evening and I had texted Josie we’d meet her and Jocelyn in the lobby. Shannon and Teresa were still getting ready when I decided to head down to meet them. As they finally came down, we ordered an Uber to get to train station. We arrived just minutes before our train was to depart so we ran through the train station and luckily got on before the train took off. Thirty minutes later we arrived in Monaco. The terrain of Monte Carlo is rugged and hilly, so upon departing the train station we heading to the casino. It was a 12-minute walk descending the hill side. While normally it wouldn’t be much of a walk, but everyone, except me, were wearing heels. We walked through the Casino Garden and the luxury shops were surrounding us. I knew high rollers lived here. We had a problem. We were probably about a 100 yards from the Casino, but there was a line to get in. It was close to 7:00 pm and Uber is not permitted in Monte Carlo so we tried to order taxis with no luck, so we were going to have to walk to La Mome for our 7:30 pm reservation. I made the reservation before we left Paris and had to guarantee it with a credit card. Late or no-show reservations would incur a 50 euros per person charge, so unfortunately we didn’t go into the casino and started our trek to the restaurant which according to Google Maps was a 23-minute walk with a steep decline and switch back. As we walked, I took in the view and imagined Grace Kelly driving down these sloping roads.
Google maps showed the path heading down hill and then switching back to the entrance but just a few minutes into our walk, I saw people in front of us duck into a space and as I looked over I saw it was the menu for our restaurant. The directions were pointing us to the entrance of the hotel that the restaurant was on the top floor of. I could feel a collective YAY as we walked into the restaurant. We were about 15 minutes early, but the hostess sat us with the incredible view of the bay in front of us.
Dinner was wonderful and the views were amazing (both the water and the waiters). We wrapped up just in time to figure out how to head back to the train. We stopped at the hostess station to see if they could help with a taxi. The hostess couldn’t assist us, so she suggested we go down stairs to the hotel front desk. We arrived and I walked up to ask for assistance. The agent informed us that the trains were on strike. We were dumbfounded and asked what do you mean? We just came in on the train. I asked if we could get a taxi back, there were 5 of us, so we’d need a van. He said he could help but couldn’t guarantee an arrival time for the taxi. It could take 10 minutes or it could take 2 hours, it just depends when the few taxis that work the area would be available. Lucky for us, a van arrived about 15 minutes later.
We jumped in when the valet asked if two young men who also needed to get back to Nice could join us. We had room and welcomed them in. We chatted on they way back the two of them were from NYC, one a corporate attorney and the other a corporate auditor. Shannon was intrigued to hear all the places to go when she and Teresa continue on to New York after Europe. We arrived outside our hotel about a half hour later. The two offered to pay for the trip it was 150 euros. The kindness of strangers.
DAY 8 – WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 2023 – FLOWER MARKET & FLYING
Of anything about this trip I wish there was more of, I wish had more time in Nice.
We got up and ready for the day and Teresa made her reservation for the parasailing adventure. I suggested we spend the morning at Marche aux Fleurs Cours Saleya. It was a lively farmers market filled with flowers, plants, baked goods (the most incredible macarons and langostino tails–sweet pastry that looks like a lobster tail filled with flavored cream, OMGEE delicious), olives and oils, cheeses, meats, soaps and other gifts. It was a great place to get wonderful souvenirs at great prices.
The late summer sun was bight and cheery, but even though we sampled a few goodies from the market we were famished for lunch. With most of the restaurants touting fresh produce and ingredients from the market. As we walked along, I found the perfect restaurant (it was like someone was guiding me). It was another incredible meal. We decided that we’d walk along the shops to do some more souvenir shopping and so Teresa could find a bathing suit. I bought a hat and pair of slides because I was roasting and could walk along the beach and put my feet in the water (I actually tried on a suit but then decided that no one wants to see that). We walked out to find Fontaine du Soleil and as we were about to get an Uber I noticed an ATM so I told the gals I was going to get some more euros. I set my pin and began the process of withdrawling money and the screen timed out to an error message in French. I left not thinking anything more that the machine was down until two days later I was charged $171 (for the 150 euros I did not get–yeah, that’s a story for another day).
We arrived at the take off spot for Teresa. She changed and got light instructions of what to expect. Shannon stayed in the shade. I walked over to the water and sat on the edge putting my feet in the cool, clear water and I was in heaven. I smiled from ear-to-ear as I watched her take off and soar through out the sky. I know she was loving following her father’s footsteps. Her ride through the sky lasted approximately 20 minutes before she plunged into the water. We gathered our things and headed back to the hotel. We didn’t have enough time to really do much else so we got drinks from the bar and some nosh. Josie and Jocelyn came down for their scheduled car, they had spent time at the casinos. Like I said, I wish I had more time in Nice. I would have liked to explore more and actually spend more time on the beach (although I did get tan after the 45 minutes out there. LOL). We arrived back in Paris later that evening.
DAY 9 – THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2023 – FALL… IN LOVE
Nothing more romantic than a Seine River cruise with four of your friends.
Thursday was a catch up work day. It was filled with washing clothes, catching up on emails, completing tasks and binge watching Emily in Paris. Shannon hadn’t watched the series before so it was fun watching it through her eyes. We had a scheduled dinner cruise on the Seine that evening. So once again we got dolled up and headed into Paris, after a little mis-navigation and some fast running we made it to the boat for a front row view of the banks of the Seine. We enjoyed a very French meal with wine and 1980’s American music. The views were spectacular and the weather was quite warm for late September. After dinner we moved outdoors and watched the beauty of the lights from the Eiffel Tower and caught the Statue of Liberty (yes, Paris has one as well).
Once we returned to dock the boat, we found that the Eiffel Tower was a 15-minute walk so we headed that way. The streets leading to the tower were filled with vendors selling key chains and blinking miniature Eiffel Towers. We stocked up and headed through security and on to the base. It was late and the Tour de Eiffel was closing soon, so we only went up to the second floor and took a bird’s eye view of the area before we had to head down again. We left the park and got into our Uber back to the hotel. As we were sitting in our room we had to figure out travel arrangement for Reims, France the next day. After our issue with the trains in Monte Carlo we opted not to go that route but an Uber was going to be $200 one way after much consideration, we thought we should rent a car, so Teresa reserved one. We decided she and I would walk over in the morning to get it.
DAY 10 – FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 2023 – FEMINITE (WOMEN RULE THE WORLD)
You got me poppin’ champagne.
We got up early and headed out to the car rental shop. It was a 15 minute walk and we had to get to Reims by 11:00am for our tour. As we arrived, we found that no one working could speak English and our French was limited. One of the agents could speak Portuguese and Teresa had a limited understanding of it, so they tried but then landed on using Google Translate. It took us a while to process the car because they wanted to put a 2,000 euros hold (which was returned once the car was returned). Luckily, Josie came to rescue and put it on her card. We got in the car and ran back by the hotel to pick up Shannon and hit the road. Now there is crazy traffic and roundabouts everywhere in Noisy-Le-Grand but once we hit the highway it was smooth sailing beyond the occasional tolls. The countryside was picturesque dotted with fields of crops and chateaus. We all voted Teresa to drive and I was her co-pilot. We arrived at Maison Veuve Cliquot within minutes of our appointment. YAY us!
We met with our tour guide, Clementine, and the descended into the belly of the champagne cellars and learned all about the history of the house and especially The Widow Cliquot (Veuve Cliquot) who was the driving force behind the champagne industry.
Emily learning the technique of sediment reducing established by Madame Cliquot
Madame Cliquot innovative ways of turning the bottles removed sediment from the champagne bottles and her blend changed the murky champagne to a clear liquid we drink today. Becoming a widow at the age of 27 years old, she led the company until her death at 89. She was a bad ass! The tour concluded with a tasting. It was fabulous and of course the rose was my favorite. We got a few suggestions for lunch and headed into town. We went to a bistro with French favorites like, coq au vin. We headed back to Noisy-Le-Grand and dropped off the car.
Football or as you, Americans, call it, soccer, was ruined for me for a hot second. I brought my family into the realm of this sport as I had grown up around it. I was the one to take PTO to watch World Cup games and for decades, Manchester United has been my team. The last time I visited the UK, in 2019, I looked to see if I could make a quick escape to watch them play, but at the time the only time I could see them while I was there coincided with the day I was showing in London Fashion Week, so when I saw that they were playing at Old Trafford on September 30th, I mentioned it to Shannon and Josie. Shannon kept pushing so when I confirmed that there was no PFW obligations, I said let’s do it (this was just days before our departure to Europe). I’m so glad she pushed me, this was definitely a highlight of this trip. We had a mid-morning departure from CDG but when we arrived we found that our flight was delayed.
As I pulled up our tickets, I saw an email from the booking agent that said, “Please do not be concerned by the names on your ticket, each ticket is assigned to an individual or business name at the start of each season which cannot be changed. However, if you are asked by a steward where you obtained the ticket, it’s best to say they were given to you by a FRIEND FREE OF CHARGE. because the seller of your tickets that you bought the tickets from has enabled you to use his tickets for this event. Please do not contact the club directly regarding your ticket as this will result in your ticket becoming void.” I thought, “OH, FUCK” what did I buy. I jumped on the booking agent’s chat and asked that question. The agent responded that I shouldn’t have a problem. So I said a Hail Mary and asked God to let us in.
This trip was a same day fly-in, fly-out. We literally were there just for the game. So when we arrived in Manchester (sadly, no UK stamp) we hailed an English cab and headed toward Old Trafford. It was Teresa’s birthday, so we mentioned it to our cabbie and he played some fun birthday related tunes in her honor. As we arrived, we could see and hear the crowds readying themselves for the game. We popped out of the cab and hit the souvenir stands (I knew Isaiah was going to be mad that I went without him, so I made sure to get him a game day scarf). As we packed up with souvenirs, our driver had mentioned the Christian Ronaldo mural at one of the pubs, so I asked the gals if we could make our way there for some Instagram-able moments (LOL). I did take a photo with the legend, well, at least his mural. It’s England, so of course it was cloudy with one hundred percent of rain, but it was heavenly. We headed over to get the most delicious fish-n-chips. As we indulged, we took our surroundings in before heading in.
I was nervous but we had no problem accessing the building. Thank you, God! We were early so we did a little walk about to take it all in and grabbed a drink before taking our seats. Based on the prices for the tickets we got, I thought for sure we were going to be in the nose bleed section in the 74,000 seat stadium, but we were 6 rows behind the goal. THEY WERE INCREDIBLE!!! We watched the teams practice, the Red Devil come onto the field, and then the teams line up before the game started. When we took our seats there was a landscape of red (for all the open seats) and when the game began I could not see one open. We cheered ManU on like it was our home team and bummed when Crystal Palace got one pass the goalie. We left 15 minutes before the game ended to make sure we missed the crowds and made it to the airport in time. We found another English cab and made our way back to the airport. While we made it back in time, we hit the duty free shops. I was looking for drop earrings to add to my liquid metal dress rope ties and the gals were looking for souvenirs. Teresa had been collecting chocolates for her mom from each of the cities we visited and Shannon was looking for fun gifts to take home. We thought we had excess time only to find out that we needed to rush to our gate. This flight we had to walk out onto the tarmac and then climb the stairs to our seats, Shannon cussed a just little bit. We arrived back in Paris just after 8pm. Now it was time to prepare for PARIS FASHION WEEK.
By the time we got back to the hotel, I decided I wanted to edit one of my dresses. I had originally wanted create a cut out in the liquid metal mini dress but since my niece was wearing it for the hometown preview, I didn’t feel comfortable making it that sexy. So when I returned to the hotel I grabbed a bowel and my sewing kit (I opted not to bring my sewing machine) and copped a squat to sew, I also found some fun crystal drop earrings that I sew into the rope detail. Shannon and Teresa asked if I wanted to go out for dinner but I figured I needed all the time possible so they were thoughtful enough to bring me back some soup. Josie and Jocelyn stopped by to be outfitting in Hopeless + Cause Atelier for the show. Got them set, finished the edit and went to bed in order to be ready for the next day.
DAY 12 – SUNDAY, OCTOBER 1, 2023 – FASHION (F*CKIN PARIS FASHION WEEK) & FRIENDS
This is it. This is what you came for.
I can’t say I slept well that night. I think it finally hit me that I was participating in Paris Fashion Week and at once it was overwhelming. I mentioned feeling imposter syndrome, but it finally hit me. I am here and I deserve to be and there are so many at home that supported this incredible opportunity, so the excitement set in.
I thought it was fitting that we drove past the Arc de Triomphe–like a reminder, that “yes, you’ve completed another goal”.
The show producers said we needed to be at the venue, Les Salons Hoche, by 8:30 am, so I figured we’d leave at 8:00 am since the traffic should be lighter early on a Sunday morning. Teresa, who was modeling for me, had to be there at the same time and I was grateful when Shannon said she join us so she could help me backstage. After the beautiful morning drive we arrived at the venue and checked in backstage we grabbed our table talked to the model coordinator and set up shop. We found Sofi a few minutes later. She had arrived two days before but this is was the first time we saw each other so after a big hug we talked runway.
The models started to trickle in and I would start outfitting them accordingly. Just a few days before, I heard from Carmen, the third model friend I was bringing with me, notified me that she hadn’t received her updated passport and was not going to make it. I sent a message to the model coordinator to find me a replacement, so as they made the rounds they updated my casting list with the models that didn’t make it and I mentioned again that I needed another model added to my line up. They obliged and I had one added just a hour before the show. During this time, Shannon jumped into action steaming the garments that had been in my bag while I was doing the outfitting. Just a few hours before the models were to take the runway, we found out there was only one person there to do hair and a dozen there to do make-up. Shannon was in disbelief with the chaos. This is not my first rodeo so it didn’t affect me as much, there is only one production company, Fashion X, out of Austin that is completely organized. Luckily, Shannon and I brought our hair tools because we had planned to get ready there. The models took them over and got ready near our station.
As I always do, I looked over to appreciate the other designers and their creations. Paris is all about Haute Couture and Avant Gard designs and they were present in this show. My design aesthetic is simple beautiful designs with unexpected elements. They are more sustainable in the way that I don’t overuse material to get my creation across. It’s social wear with a social conscience. A half an hour before the show started, the coordinator asked for all models to take the runway for a run through. Shannon and I took seats at the end of the runway and I suggested that she, Josie and Jocelyn sit there so they’d have the entire view of the runway. Shannon was going to live stream the show on Facebook for anyone who happened to be up at 6:00 am local time.
After the dress rehearsal, it was time to line up the designers. We were third on deck. I asked Teresa to open and Sofi to close. All the models were lined up when I realized I was missing a model, I grabbed as staff member to find her. She had beautifully full hair with curl and was trying to get the hair person to tame it. They were trying to send out the models when I put a halt to it until she could get dressed. It changed my line-up a bit, but everyone was set and sashaying down the runway. At the end the models lined up along the edges, like they did in the Albuquerque show and I was planning just to step out, wave and go back in, but because Shannon, Josie and Jocelyn were at the end I couldn’t see them so I curtseyed and walked out. As soon as I saw them, I was like the Cheshire Cat with a ridiculous smile from ear-to-ear.
It always seems like it takes years to get to the show and it’s done in an instant. But boy, does it feel powerful to achieve dreams. Riding on the high, we decided to go for a bite to eat. We walked around the 8th arrondissement to find one with patio seating. We grabbed tables and started talking. We had a glass of wine to celebrate friends, travel and living life (and grandmas). Sofi talked about getting to Paris and I cried the second time this trip. It made me so happy to have her there and for her to feel good about being there. We ate drank and laughed the night away. We walked Sofi back to her hotel as she stayed near the venue. She showed us the park she wanted to do the photo shoot in and she pointed out a neon sign that made me smile because I knew my angels were with me.
We got an Uber from there and headed back to Noisy-Le-Grand. It was a good day, and I can honestly say I slept well that evening.
DAY 13 – MONDAY, OCTOBER 2, 2023 – FANTASY
Make the most of every opportunity.
Josie and Jocelyn were heading back to the US so I met them downstairs in the hotel about 11:00 am. We had decided to do a photo shoot in Parc Monceau. We spent most of the morning working binge watching and washing clothes. We had two days left. We decided to take the metro into Paris and that was an adventure in itself getting to the right trains, but we did it. We met Sofi at her hotel. She and Teresa changed and we walked over to the park. Sofi is an incredible photographer but because I also wanted her to model we all took turns playing the photographer.
The purpose of this shoot was, well when in Paris you got to take some fabulous editorial photos that will be submitted for publishing. It was golden hour so and the park was filled with nannies and kids, older couples, younger couples and lots of people but we were able to carve out the space we needed with the gorgeous backdrop.
After the gals changed, we walked to a bistro for dinner and more conversation about our trip. We then headed back to the hotel via the Metro and Sofi left the next morning.
DAY 14 – TUESDAY, OCTOBER 3, 2023 – FAMILY (30 YEARS LAPSE)
This day was 30 years in the making.
There were two things I told Shannon and Teresa I had to do: 1) Paris Fashion Week on Sunday, October 1st and 2) I had to visit La Basilique du Sacré Cœur de Montmartre on Wednesday, October 3rd.
In May when my friend, Tony, died, I pulled out a box from the shed that contained old yearbooks and photo albums. Two of those photo albums were filled with photos from my mom’s trip to Europe. When my grandma died the following month, the kids came over for brunch and Cati asked if she could look at them and I said, “of course” as she was going through the pages, I stopped her on the page that contained a Mass Missal and I got chills as I read the date, October 3, 1993. When I realized I’d be in Paris on that date, I knew I had to go.
Now that we figured out the Metro I figured out how early we’d have to leave so we could make Mass. However, Shannon wanted to stop by the post office in Les Arcades Centre Commercial to find out how much it would cost to ship back some of her purchases to New Mexico. We then headed on the Metro into Paris. While we were sitting there Teresa was reading headline with her earbuds in and screams out there’s an Outbreak. Shannon and I looked her, eyes wide open and I think shushed her. She didn’t realize she was talking loud. When she took out her earbuds, she told us about the bed bug outbreak in Paris (this is something I would hear about daily from then on out until I returned home–luckily we didn’t bring any unwanted visitors home with us). We arrived at the Montmartre exit and the view from the bottom of the hill was incredible.
As we reached the steps, I asked Teresa to take a photo of me with the program and as I stood there, a flood of emotion hit me. I was at the place my mom was 30 years ago. After I pulled myself together, Shannon and I took the tram up and Teresa walked the steps. I got in the very long line to go in the church, while Teresa and Shannon were taking photos. Thinking it was going to take a long time to go in, I sent them a text letting them know. It moved much quicker than I thought and I got inside before they responded. Sadly, but luckily, I came in at the end of the service but I got to witness some angelic voices of the nuns singing. After mass ended, I went on to explore the basilica until I reached the front pews, then I went in to pray. I felt at peace and extreme gratitude wash over me. As I looked over, I saw printed missals so I grabbed one to take home with me. I then saw Shannon and Teresa and we continued on. We grabbed lunch then shopped for souvenirs and the heaven opened up for about 15 minutes of heavy rain.
After it cleared up we decided to head over to the Louvre Museum. We didn’t have time to go in as it was closing soon by we took photos outside and then headed over the garden. It had changed so much since I was there four years before. Teresa had promised to get yarn for a friend so we headed over to these quant shops found in an alley before heading back to the hotel.
DAY 15 – WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2024 – FREAKIN DELTA
Wednesday we woke early to head to the airport for our 11:00 am flight back to New York. I checked my phone and found a text message from the airlines, Delta, stating the flight had been delayed to 2:00 pm, which meant that the previous arrival time of 2:00 pm EST was now changed to 4:30 pm. We talked about what we should do and decided that we should still get to the airport early just in case the delay was shortened. We couldn’t get a large Uber, while there was only 3 of us our luggage wouldn’t fit in a smaller vehicle, so I took one and Shannon and Teresa took another. Because of morning traffic, I arrived at Charles de Gaulle about 45 minutes later. During the commute, I was texting Delta customer service to find out my options because I was flying back to Albuquerque that evening. My time between flights went from 6 hours to 3 and a half hours. I wouldn’t think much about it except that I was coming in from one terminal having to go through customs, get my bags, go to another terminal, go through security and get to the corresponding gate. I remained positive and checked-in my bag and proceeded through security. I arrived earlier than the gals who had to process their tax credits and Shannon was looking for another suitcase for her goodies.
I walked through the duty free areas and did a little shopping that I could pack in my carry on bag. I found that Veuve Cliquot was about $30 cheaper than in the states so I bought a bottle and some other treats. Then I passed the fragrance section and was stopped in my tracks. I looked at the yellow and white striped bottle and had to walk in to smell the signature scent of my mom…Giorgio of Beverly Hills. I remember being in high school and at one point I think she experienced olfactory fatigue because she couldn’t smell the scent but boy, I could. LOL! Smelling the tester I was immediately transported back in time.
I moved on to Paul’s for my last Pain du Chocolate and lunch. I gave them the meal ticket provided by Delta as an apology for the delay (dear Delta, a 15 euro pass is not enough of an apologize for the inconvenience…I’m just a little bitter, but you’ll find out why). Hours passed and our gate changed twice. As we were sitting there ready to board, the departure time changed to 2:30pm. I couldn’t help to notice that the crew was sitting with us, our plane wasn’t even at the gate. We started to board about 2:45 pm. I finally got to my seat after 3:00 pm. My seat mate was from NYC and returning from a food and wine tour of Italy (maybe next time?!?). I settled in and prayed that I made it in enough time to make my flight (Shannon and Teresa were staying a few days in NYC). We arrived in NYC after 5:00pm. I jumped off the plane waving good by to Teresa and Shannon, as I ran down the gate to get to customs, only to find the longest line ever. Then I saw a note to download the customs app for quicker processing. I did just that and jumped the line went through the corridor to another serpentine line. I made friends with the people near me as we were all flabbergasted by the non-moving line. The TSA agent mentioned that one line was moving quicker than the other, but I think he was playing a game with the travelers because when we moved to the other line it remained stagnant. I had made acquaintances with a couple when I told then of my desire to make my flight in time. The boyfriend and I stayed in the line while the girlfriend moved to the other one. She moved through through her line quicker so we popped out and joined her, when I found Teresa ahead of us. She and Shannon had downloaded the app and got into the global entry line instead of listening to the agent. I joined her and we got through in another 15 minutes. It was now after 6:30 pm and I had to get my checked bag and get to terminal 5.
By this time, our bags were no longer on the carousel but instead piled in between them. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Again, I lost Teresa and Shannon. Assuming they found their bags, I called Teresa to see where. She directed me and within 5 minutes, I found my bag went to the information desk and asked how I get to the air train to terminal 5. After a 15 minute, run/walk I jumped on the train and a few minutes later got off at the terminal. I descended the escalator and decided I was going to check both bags so I could make it easier to get through security since I didn’t have time to repack after my champagne purchase. I got to the bag check and was sweating profusely. I had been wearing my black NYC sweatshirt. I took it off to find I had black fuzz all over me…I’m sure I looked like I had the bubonic plague. I checked my bags and paid an additional $60 to check the 2nd bag and headed to security. Luckily, the line wasn’t as long as I was expecting. I got through and it was 7:15 pm. I walked up to the gate, just before they started boarding. I was excited to see that the arrival time listed was going to be earlier than originally scheduled. Yay! Something going my way on this return flight. I had already been up for 20 hours and I was ready to be home (funny the last trip I was up for over 36 hours but it was also filled with fun in NYC). As we were ready for take off, the captain came on over the speakers to say there was an issue with the air conditioner and maintenance had been called. Let’s just say we didn’t arrive earlier than expected. After, I got my bag and met Isaiah outside baggage claim to was after midnight. I had been up for 24 hours and was going to work the next day (dumb me scheduled an appointment for a new client…who ended up being a no show).
I’ve been asked over and over about my favorite parts or moments of this trip and it was so life enhancing, but here are a few of my favorite moments:
walking in my mom steps 30 years ago to the day
experiencing this trip with friends (thank you Shannon, Teresa, Josie, Jocelyn & Sofi)
participating in Paris Fashion week (truly grateful for all who helped me achieve this)
watching ManUtd in Old Trafford after riding in an English Cab and noshing on fish and chips
walking in awe and reflection of the work and craftmanship of our ancestors
sitting on the beach with my feet in the clear cool water watching my friend check off something from her bucket list
twirling in a palace
Paul’s pain du chocolate
praying, reflecting and meditating in so many beautiful places
moments when I knew my angels were with me (Bistro Jennifer, Giorgio of Beverly Hills in the airport)
I recently watched “Eat. Pray. Love.” for the billionth time. This time something new resonated with me, the line, “we must always be prepared for endless waves of transformation.” I have found this through my travels, the people I have met in these Ms. Adventures and loved ones who’ve taken this journey with me, and this all is possible because of Hopeless + Cause Atelier. Thank you Shannon, Josie, Sofi, Teresa and Jocelyn.
Next stop, Milan Fashion Week. Who’s in?
With light and love, Dara Sophia Romero
PS here is the photos and video from the trip (there’s a LOT)
“I want more, impossible to ignore Impossible to ignore And they’ll come true”
Dreams, The Cranberries
I am currently sitting at a work table with my friends, Shannon and Teresa, in Nosiy-Le-Grand, France, a suburb of Paris. I am writing between episodes of Emily in Paris, while the other two are working. It is a dream come true to finally be here after setting my intentions over 4 years ago. It has been a little over a month from my hometown preview and now, Hopeless + Cause Atelier will be showing in Paris City Fashion Week in just two days. And I’m continually asked, “how I’m feeling about it?” I’ve got all the feelings: gratitude, excitement, a sense of incredibility that this is really happening, and deep felt gratitude. Then when I start REALLY thinking about it, I want to throw up. As I mentioned at the hometown show, “How does this happen to girl from New Mexico?” Easy. It takes a village.
On Friday, August 25th, the 8th birthday of Hopeless + Cause Atelier, I hosted a hometown preview for friends and family who came out in wonderful abundance to support my dream of showing in Paris during Fashion Week. I have loved seeing all the wonderful photos of everyone enjoying themselves at the show and of course, the beautiful videos and still shots they took of the models on the runway. If you’ve ever hosted an event, you will understand that putting on a fashion show is no easy undertaking…especially with champagne dreams on Papst Blue Ribbon budget, I was the promoter, web developer, accountant, cater, volunteer coordinator, set and seating designer, director and program master, cat wrangler, oh and fashion designer. I’m pretty good at organization because I’m kind of a control freak. However, the hardest part for me is that I have no control over ticket sales (especially, since I live in the land of manana) and it’s super stressful to guess on seating layout and food when people are texting you the morning of the show looking for seats (and when every single day throughout prior week, I post over and over and over that ticket sales are ending two days before the show 🤪🤣), but I digress. I went into this show with the assumption that the audience didn’t know about my little atelier and that I would take them through journey with me. I also wanted to take the opportunity to honor my grandmother and her impact on this passion project of mine. And because I try to weave community in everything I do, there were added moments. Before I talk about the twists and turns of the event, I’m going to take it back a few weeks.
The last time I wrote, my gram had just died. I went through all the emotions and then some. Her funeral service in Albuquerque was beautiful, filled with her family’s involvement, a slide show of wonderful photos, a moving eulogy, special music, a priest that knew her and a reception filled with stories, laughter and good food. I know she was watching from above with a smile on her face. But it wasn’t enough for me, I wanted it make sure everyone in the audience knew her and her impact on me and this atelier. I also knew she would want me to live my life to the fullest. And living your life to the fullest means bringing others along with you. The production company I am working with provides the models for the show. I had three models, who became dear friends, that were willing to travel to walk for me. After weeks of asking, bugging and pleading, I woke up one Saturday with an email from the organizer saying they could not only walk in my show, but he’d put their comp cards in the rotation for the possibility that they could walk for other designers. I remember feeling as happy if not happier that I could tell them that they were in. I think it impacted me so much was because I could help others live their dreams too.
Ticket sales were trickling in. Wonderful sponsors were supporting me (thank you Carla Aragon and Allen Lewis, Esther Otero-Martinez, and my wonderful anonymous sponsor and again to Tanya Robinson & Alpha Lit). During this time I celebrated a milestone birthday, traveled with friends to Nashville, Santa Fe and San Diego, and participated in my grandmother’s funeral mass. Again, I have not witnessed anything more beautiful. All these life events bleed into my ideation for the event. The overall theme of the event focused on dreams and the dream makers that made this a reality. The VIP seats’ swag included custom soaps, lavender sachets, candles, and face masks to help the attendees “curate their own dream”. I created the videos to tell the story of the last eight years (and beyond) because the dream of becoming a fashion designer began in high school. As friends and family members purchased their tickets, it made me happy to bring together an audience of such amazing people that I believe should know each other. My models were made up of different ages, ethnicities and sizes, just like the women I design for. I was so grateful that I could have two of my loves model for me for their first time: my niece, Athea, and Averie (that was a last minute add that made my heart happy). Some great photographers came through and my prayers for a beautiful voice to sing “Buenos Dias Paloma Blanca” were answered by Ane Romero.
As asked weeks before if I was ready, my customary response was, “I will be”. I know as a control freak I should have said “yes, I’ve been ready for months” but that’s where my creative side kicks my butt all over the place. I may have an entire collection ready but as I get closer I nix it and start all over again. But the night before, I had the collection set and program done, so at 2pm I was joined by Allison, Eilene, Natalie and Stephanie at the venue and started to set the scene for the show: putting together gift bags, prepping the clothing, placing tables and chairs to the seating chart. Alpha Lit and Blown Balloons showed up to start the decor. At 3pm, the models and beauty team started to arrive and got to work putting together the hair and make up based on the look book. I started outfitting the models for their three looks. About 5pm, my brother arrived to figure out the best way to utilize the A/V and my daughter arrived to set up her DJ booth (I told you it was a family affair–Isaiah and Brianna, were there in spirit as they were finally taking their honeymoon in Seattle). We started setting up the food and Leola was picking up last minute items. Guests started to arrive just before 6pm. I asked that guests arrive before 7:15pm to ensure that no one was arriving during the show. Mercury was in retrograde so of course there was technical and communication difficulties, but we just rolled with it (and I included the links for the videos if you want to see the story).
I designed the program to be in three parts. The first part, Story of My Life, showcased my beginnings in design, how I almost walked away and the inspiration and support of those around me to create and celebrate.
The second segment focused on my gram, Catalina Romero, her influence on my life and the atelier.
This segment started with video. Then, Ane took to the stage to sing. She was such a blessing to this event. I had put out a request for mariachi singers but the ones who responded were sadly a little too rich for my budget, when Sofi suggested her cousin, Ane. We connected immediately and there were so many coincidences from her last name, her family background and the fact that she had wanted to learn this song, so much so that it gave me happy chills (especially, when she arrived wearing a lilac dress–one of my gram’s favorite flowers). She was perfect. I just wish I could’ve been sitting in the audience with you for this.
The final segment, Dreams Take Two, took the audience on a journey with me when attended London Fashion Week and spent 10 hours in Paris. That was when I made the decision to try for Paris. This was 2019. I started the process working with another production company, when the pandemic hit…and then my cancer diagnosis…and then my broken (and surgically corrected) ankle…so when I received the invite and sought feedback about a show supporting the production costs was overwhelming supported. I knew this was the year (especially, since I had already planned to go to Paris). But I had no idea how wonderfully supported I’d be. My incredible friends and family outside of Albuquerque, friends of friends, friends who brought friends, and incredibly generous sponsors. I am tearing up just thinking how truly blessed I am–THANK YOU!!
As I spoke of my own journey, I asked Allison Hendricks-Smith the founder and ED of Pink Warrior House to share her own, and how the organization supports warriors on their own journey. Then the models took to the runway for the last time.
As they all headed out for what is know as the carousel walk, I joined them to a standing ovation. It was such an uplifting experience, with so many people I love in my presence. I hope everyone felt it to and enjoyed the evening.
Thank you to the models, beauty team, photographers, volunteers, sponsors and patrons for an evening that took my breath away. In TWO days, I will be living this dream. If you would like to come along, I am asking Shannon to live stream the show (6am Mountain time on Sunday, October 1, 2023).
If you’ve followed my Ms. Adventures from the beginning, then you know the influence my material grandmother (lovingly aka known as my “gram”) has not only had on my passion project, Hopeless + Cause Atelier, but most importantly on my life. Growing up, I couldn’t imagine a time I wasn’t with her or she was in my corner when I was bumping heads with my mom. She taught me how to sew out of necessity when I was young and when I returned to the craft decades later, she pulled out her sewing machine and once again gave me guidance as I started to design and create.
She recently turned 93 and she lives at home with my aunt. Her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren take turns staying with her and provide care during the day while my aunt works. I’ve talked about my time with her in past posts but a couple months ago, I had an epiphany of sorts. Tuesday afternoon we were at the kitchen counter–she, with her cookies and coffee and I across from her chatting, when I realized that her hair was standing up in the back from her most recent nap. I went into her bathroom and grabbed her brush. I went back to the counter and started combing her hair. Her coos of excitement from this simple gesture threw me over with emotion. We went on that afternoon talking about family members. She told me how beautiful my dress was and she had a mixture of frustration and sadness when she couldn’t remember things. The next Tuesday, when she was enjoying her afternoon snack at the breakfast bar. I decided to pull out a deck of cards and start playing “Solitaire”. This is a game she would always play when we were at the ranch or she was in the kitchen waiting for the timer to go off on a meal she was cooking in the oven. I thought this simple act would jog her memory from the past as she watched intently as I played and showed her excitement when I made the cards work for me. Another Tuesday, she was sitting up in her bed rubbing on her finger nails trying to clean off the chipped nail polish. I grabbed my aunts tools, remover and polish and sat in front of her to give them a fresh look. Her happiness fed into mine. She has had her good days: remembering me, where she is and what she’s doing, eating, getting up to walk and holding a conversation, and she has had her not so good days: chanting prayers when she’s in pain, disoriented and upset when she can’t remember, and not really eating.
Either way, I am really grateful for this time and while it’s hard to see this fiercely independant and strong motherly figure so fragile, I am blessed that I am able to be there for her in this way. I also realized it was an epiphany on two fronts. The first was the realization was that as much as we think we are indedpendant and can do it all on our own, at sometime in our life we NEED others. The second was the hardiness and the value of time or making the time.
I set goals every year. I have learned in order to be successful I need to be realistic and specific in creating them. I also lean on a word to help guide me on my path. I opened with “opportunity” because I knew this was the year that I could take advantage with my health in check and the world opening up….but then it hit me. Opportunity is ALWAYS around you just have to be open to it. So “open” became my guiding word.
I finally set a date for breast reconstruction and it excited me that I would finally be able to shelve this chapter (plus have a new bangin’ bod). I took advantage of my company’s free educational benefits. I applied and was accepted into “Fashion Design Management” certificate program. I understand the creative side but wanted to learn more about the business side. I reached out to friends I hadn’t seen for years because of the pandemic and set dates to visit with them. I decided visiting NYC only once in 2022 was not good enough and this was the first REAL Autumn/Winter fashion season since 2020. I had points so I booked my flight.
When I opened up to the universe, I found abundance, even when obsticles blocked the way. I almost canceled my NYC trip. I really wanted to go but I started thinking about my next medical proceedure, corresponding leave of absence and short term disability pay (60% vs.100%) and I felt a little uneasy about spending the extra money. I decided to be open and just like that, I received a text from my friend, Evelyn, asking when my next trip was. I filled her in on the dates and she asked if I’d like company. So we made a plan and February 9th couldn’t get here quick enough. There were 6 things I had to do and the rest of the time was free for what ever. Those things were: 1) check out a NYFW production that also produces in Paris, 2&3) schedule time with Amanda (whom I hadn’t seen since 2020) and Sal (whom I hadn’t seen since 2018), 4) go to mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, 5) get some work done at at Louis Vuiton and Gucci and 6) visit the Museum at the FIT .
We arrived after a full day of travel and checked into the hotel, freshened up and headed down to the hotel bar for happy hour. We had reservations for a speakeasy in the East Village. I knew I’d be recovering from surgery for her March milestone birthday so I wanted to take her to someplace fabulous to celebrate. And it was! The front was a pawn shop that opened to a sweeping staircase with beautiful chandler that welcomed you to the hostess station and bar. We celebrated our arrival with a cocktail before we were escorted to our table.
The next day I had nothing scheduled and the only thing Evelyn wanted to do was to visit the Guggenheim. The weather was unseasonably mild and beautiful for February so we decided to walk from our midtown hotel, along 5th avenue and then through Central Park to the museum. It was my first visit to this museum it was a lovely afternoon for art. We walked about half way back until Evelyn asked if we could jump on the subway. We had walked 8 miles so I gave in and if you know me, you know riding the subway is a big compromise for me (HUGE). We opted to stay in that evening grabbing pizza and a bottle of wine from neighborhood establishments (I did have to send Isaiah a photo with the caption $2 pizza).
The next morning, I had an appointment with the Louis Vuitton team to try make some sales while I was in town and then my plan was to stop by Gucci to pick of a repair order. Evelyn would meet me after the store opened. We had little bit of time to look through the latest at Herald Square before meeting Amanda for brunch. I hoped we’d hit the Museum at FIT for “Fifty Years of Hip Hop Style” before returning to the hotel for a little R-N-R. I got to work–I just love entering from Macy’s Herald Square employee entrace–and chatted with the team before I started taking photos of the latest bags and accessories. I got to work and made a few purchases on behalf of my clients. We strolled through the contemporary lines but realized we had about a 20 minute walk through Chelsea, so we decided if we had time after, we’d come back. We arrived in sync with Amanda. I gave her a big hug and made introductions. We were escorted to our chalet, or quaintly decorated outdoor eating space, that was probably built in 2020. We had a lively convesation about our lives from the past three years. After brunch, we walked over to FIT and caught the exhibits, continued on to Macy’s to do a little shopping and then returned to the room to freshen up before heading to the shows. The first one was near the Flat Iron Building and was produced by Small Business Fashion Week. They produce throughout the USA and in Paris so I really wanted to see their show and attendees. We arrived right at 6pm and almost didn’t make it in, but I’ve learned to be a pushy New Yorker and was able to get us. The show was smaller than what I am used to, but it was fun to see the varying type of designers from swim to street. The next show was in the East Village and one I’ve attended over the years. It’s a bigger production company, Art Hearts Fashion. We jumped in an Uber and headed south. As we arrived, I noticed a line wrapping around the building which I had never seen at that venue before. As we got in line, we started talking to attendees when one mentioned the type of ticket I had meant go to front of the line. We walked to the interest and I checked in with the press table. I had sent in requests for me and Evelyn. However, there was a screening process and Evelyn wasn’t on the list. Unfortunately, I couldn’t talk my way through this one so we opted to just head back to the hotel. We finished the evening watching movies and munching on Cava (one of my go-to’s in NYC).
Sunday, I got ready and headed out early to Mass. It’s so peaceful walking 5th Avenue on Sunday morning. I know it’s unbelieveable to discribe the City as peaceful but it really is before 10am on Sundays. I got my fill of St. Patrick’s and because brunch with Sal was at Pier 17, I had to take the subway (yes, it may start snowing as you read this). I arrived to the Brooklyn Bridge. Since Evelyn, didn’t go to mass, we were going to meet their and walk over to the restaurant together. We were all running late, so I informed the party to check in as they arrived. Evelyn could not find me so we headed over separately. Sunday was the coldest of the days with the weather dreary but at least it wasn’t raining. However being so close to the water made for some bone chilling cold. Brunch was wonderful. I hadn’t seen Sal since she stayed with me in 2018 for our friend, Jennifer’s celebration of life. We met when she was a reporter with Albuquerque Business First and developed an incredible friendship over the years. She left Albuquerque and returned to her home town, Denver, before landing a job in D.C. and in the past year was scooped up by the Associated Press in NYC. We wrapped up brunch and headed back to Macy’s to work on another purchase from Louis Vuitton. Then plan was to find a pub to watch the superbowl but after the chilly afternoon we decided to have a superbowl room party. Evelyn was craving Canolis so we hit the neighborhood, picked up dinner, wine and sweets and turned on the game. I think everyone should experience a superbowl room party.
Our flights on moday were early afternoon, and I had another order for Gucci. I had also received a request to create a prom dress for someone i love dearly, so I wanted to hit Mood for fabric ideas. I tooks swatches and photos with the Gucci bag in tow. We got back in time to check our bags and hit a pub across the street for lunch before heading to the airport. We got on our planes and made the treck back. On my flight, I had the option to watch movies when I came accross a new release that, after the recommendation from aunt, has become my favorite, “Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris”. It is a sweet movie about an everyday woman who has profound impact on those around her. It’s about loss and enjoying life to the fullest. It was totally relateable to me.
“We need more dreams now more than ever.”
-Ada Harris
I returned to Albuquerque inspired. I’m always inspired by NYC but this is a milestone year for me and I was so grateful I took this trip. I had a little less than a month before my surgery and I wanted to get so much in before. I got back to work on outfitting the local The Go Red for Women Fashion Show for the American Heart Association. This is a such a full circle event for me. In 2014 and 2015, I actually attended the Macy’s NYFW version with celebrities models like Zendaya, Thalia Sodi, and Giada De Laurentiis. So when was hired at Macy’s, I was excited to outfit the real superheroes in our community. I also planned to host a Galentine’s soiree to thank all those that have supported me in my business throughout the years. I continued my Tuesdays with gram. Made time with my minis, my friends and to volunteer. I celebrated several friends incredible accomplishments and just enjoyed life at community events. I started my course work. I opted for a Dry Lent and found that it hasn’t been difficult to follow even when going out with friends.
I had my pre-op appointment scheduled for March 1st. I woke that morning after feeling so many different emotions over the past couple of weeks. I knew the intensity with a hospital stay involved and assumed a 6-week leave of absence. My plastic surgeon had moved from her private practice to UNM Cancer Center, so when I had planned to have reconstructive surgery last year, I’d have to wait until late summer but because of my time away from work for my ankle surgery, I knew I couldn’t take another 6-weeks off, so late last year, we planned it for March 10th. I arrived at my appointment on time and after going through the maze of the cancer center I was taken to an exam room. I had a busy day but I had planned the appointment early enough that I wouldn’t be too stressed about spending the time for the appointment. However when my doctor arrived 45 minutes late, I lost it. The emotions bubbled up and I explained how it is not professional or courteous to make someone wait that long. She apologized profusely and we got to work talking about my care pre-op, the surgery and the recovery. It was overwhelming and I wish I had an extra pair of ears but I tried to take copious notes. I was to give up caffiene immediately (which resulted in several days of fun headaches). My surgery call time was 6am and the surgery would be anywhere from 6-9 hours long. I would be admitted into an ICU room and would be released 5 days later. The room would set at balmy 75 degrees so the newly constructed veins and arteries would be expanded enough to feed the new tissue enough blood to sustain life. The final big change to what I was expecting was the fact that I would be out for 8 weeks. Eight weeks of minimal movement and 8 weeks of reduced pay. But at the end of the day, I knew that on the flip side I would be able to shelve this chapter of my life and have a banging bod (If you’re reading this, I hope you’re laughing along with me).
“When she woke the next morning she felt no longer sad but only eager and excited as one who is about to embark upon a great and unknown adventure.”
Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris
I got back to work. Set up our store’s Bag Hunger Activies, saw as many clients as I could. Cleaned my casita since I’d have my minis staying with me and got as far as I could in my class assignments. I planned a team volunteer project the day before my surgery because I knew I’d be out of commission for the rest of the projects that month. A group of 12 from Macy’s Coronado headed to St. Felix Pantry on Thursday March 8. I think what made this even more special is that one of my coworkers mentioned that he had utilized the food pantry’s services years ago so he was compelled to go and help others now that he was at a place where he could. That made me smile. We packaged fresh veggies and sorted non-perishable foods for two hours.
As I was leaving, my phone rang. I answered knowing the number was coming from Lovelace, the hospital where my surgery was taking place. The woman on the other end introduced herself as the financial consultant and asked to speak to me. I responded and she continued to discuss the financial costs of the surgery and my responsibility. I think I was in shock because it all became jumbled besides the following: Lovelace was no longer contracted with my insurance carrier. The surgery would cost $330,000 and my patient responsibility would be $150,000. While I was hoping the surgery was in-network because it would be free because I had already met this year’s $3,900 in network out of pocket maximum, I knew there might be a possibility that it could be out of network and my out of pocket maximum would be $11,000. So when I explained that to this woman, she responded saying since Lovelace wasn’t contracted they could charge whatever they wanted. I then proceeded to ask why they waited until the day before to inform me of this. My heart sank thinking how much longer I’d have to wait. She said she’d reach out to the CFO to see if there is anything they could do, but it might require me bringing a few thousand dollars with me…again, I thought you request this a day before my surgery?!? I asked whom the CFO she was referring to, so when she responded with the name of one of my clients, I said, “tell her it’s for Dara, her Macy’s Personal Stylist”.
I hung up the phone and tears streamed down my face and I’m sure my blood pressure was through the roof. I took a deep breath and reached out to my friend, Serena, whom is an executive at Lovelace. I explained what happened. She was astonished to hear what I told and said she’d get on the phone with the CFO. With in minutes I was given the number for the head of admissions with a time to call her. I promptly did so and talked through the financial responsibility and she agreed that the max out of pocket I’d experience would be the $11,000. As a friend told me, it’s like I received a $139,000 gift. I was lucky because I have friends in high places, but I couldn’t help but think what if I didn’t?
The next morning, Isaiah drove me to the hospital. We checked in at 6:00am and after going through the admission process we were taken to the surgery area. The nurse came to get me within minutes and after taking all the preliminary vitals, got me prepped for surgery. My surgeons came in and marked my breast and abdomen surgery site. The anesthesiologist came in started the process as they rolled me into the operating room. About 8 hours later, I woke up in my ICU room connected to oxygen, IVs, drains, a pain ball, blood pressure cuff, catheter, oxygen sensor and dopler wiring to read the blood flow. Later, Cati admitted to me that she was scared after seeing all the machine connections. Initially, I had two nurses attending to me. They stayed with me in the room checking vitals every 15 minutes until the shift change at 7pm. That first day I could only have ice chips (it was ok–Friday’s during lent are for fasting–okay, I know bad joke). The room was so hot that I asked for ice packs behind my neck and under my feet. I found out that my lungs had partially collapsed from the time spent in the operating room, so they gave me a spirometer to exercise my lung. It was difficult to initially get to the level I was challenged to, but the bigger problem happened after the first day of using it and the coughing that ensued. I prayed that I didn’t cough, laugh or sneeze and of course all these actions occured. I’ve never held my stomach tighter.
I’m not going lie; the first 48 hours were probably the hardest I’ve ever had to deal with in my life. I straddled the line of modesty and vanity with my own vanity pushing me through. My faith, my family and friends who checked in and said prayers on my behalf, the incredible nursing team from the ICU unit and little things like watching Friends on Nick at Nite, Harry Potter Marathons and trash tv from Bravo were my saviors. The ICU nurses went above and beyond in my care. I had one nurse, Michelle, who was so concerned when my temperature spiked to 101.8 degrees that she called the doctor for advice and did everything to keep me comfortable. I knew it was because I was living in an oven, but soldiered on following instructions to make sure that the tissue had a healthy start. I also kept my sense of humor, welcoming my visitors to my tropical paradise.
Tuesday morning I was doing well enough to be released home. Brianna took off of work and picked me up. Isaiah met us at my casita and stayed with me until Cati got off from work. Isaiah is working remotely for the next month so he’s been with me during the day all week and Cati has been staying overnight with me. I am truly blessed by my three kiddos. Family and friends have checked in to see what I need and how I’m doing. I am incredibly grateful. I know this was the path I chose for reconstruction and I am so thankful that it is going well but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t intense. And it brought me back to my epiphany from my grams. I’m a tough, independent woman, who’d rather focus on others than ask for help.Yet again life reminded me that we all need help sometimes. Right now, it’s hard for me to welcome visitors because I’m carrying my painball and two drains. I walk hunched over with the aid of a walker and I’m living my best life in pj’s. I’ve always been teased because I have monkey toes, but my prensile feet have aided me as I can’t bend down. And to not welcome someone into my home when I can’t make them a meal or even clean my house, is trying. It’s not that I don’t want to see loved ones but instead because I don’t want them to see me in this manner. I’m at the start of road to recovery and I can’t wait to write about what’s happening next…and down the road.
I know 2023 is going to be a big year with milestone celebrations, travel and quality time with loved ones. My first couple of projects are to complete the Fashion Design Management Certificate Program, loan looks for the Locker #505 Fashion Show in April and get back to work reviewing Paris Fashion Week production companies. My journeys are never straight lines, but it’s in those difficult paths and off road adventures that I learn so much about myself and the world around me. This journey continues to reveal to be open and to take advantage of every opportunity that is set forth.
“Life is not all moonlight and movies.” – Andre Fauvel “Why can’t it be? I’ve spent too long on my own, wishing my life away.” – Ada Harris
Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris
With light and love, Dara Sophia
P.S. I can have coffee again after March 25th and a glass of wine after April 9th.
Traveling with me is not glamorous. I’m usually traveling on a tight budget and staying near the venue. Usually the day before, I’m holed up in the hotel room sewing and there might be fitting appointments with the models. And sometimes, there are midnight runs to a 24-hour Wal-mart in the next state for a sewing machine needle. There’s always some hiccup because to be honest I live the life of Ms. Adventures. But there’s always a story and and when someone goes with me, I am incredibly grateful for the company and help.
This time was no different and I was happy Ang offered to join me to Austin Fashion Week. I was excited to return to this event. I specifically returned to Austin because after my first show with the team, back in May 2017, I found that the production company Fashion by Events was so incredibly organized, communicated well and the event went off flawlessly.
Two weeks before my showing date (Sunday, November 13th) I received the model comp cards. I was to create 7 designs for the show. If you’ve been reading along, I had chosen my color palette, Harvest–oat, olive, blueberry, raspberry and pumpkin. My design aethestic is edgy-demure. It’s everyday wear with an unexpected twist. This collection was no different. It was a matter of finalizing designs based on the models.
My day job was hopping! I was invited to lead a few conversations on event execution and holiday gift ideas. I was planning several give back events and trying to see as many clients as possible, so my sewing time was over the evening hours and on days off. And as I’ve said before, I suffer from creative blocks…meaning, I can’t create properly unless I’m in the right mind set which sadly, sometimes it’s just days, and in extreme cases, hours before a show. Things were coming along though. As the co-chair of employee resource group, I lead the team on an activity about “bringing your amazing self to work”. One of the questions was, to describe yourself in one word. I have been often told that I am a connector of sorts. As I prepared for this activity, I gave that descriptor some thought, but found that I strive not to be just a connector, and not that there is anything wrong with that. Bringing people together is a wonderful trait, but I truly attempt something more. And it brought me back to the creative process of fashion. I described myself as, “thread”. The thread creates a bond and when done properly, is pretty tight and strong. I love that I have woven lives together through my everyday and fashion encounters and have always tried to create inclusion in everything I do, but specifically in my designs.
I took the week off before the show to provide ample time for necessary changes, but because I fly by the seat of my pants, I found out Jane’s Addiction was going to Denver the weekend before Austin. As one of my favorite bands, I hadn’t them since the early nineties. And the fun thing about it was, I was seeing them with the person I had seen them with decades ago. So after a quick trip to Denver I got back to work: cutting, sewing, buying last minute embellishments. We were leaving on Friday. I packed my sewing machine and garment bag filled with finished and semi-finished looks. It was definitely going to be a sewing in my room kind of trip.
I was on a budget for this trip. The cost to be in the show was $500, materials $300 and airfare another $250 so I planned on $700 for hotel, food and transportation. I had shopped and shopped for the right priced hotel near the venue. We checked into the hotel and after some issues on figuring out how to split the bill, we dropped our things and walked over to Pappadeux’s for dinner. It was unseasonably cold in Austin. I was planning to show a spring/summer collection and the town was blanketed in a cold front with rain. It was going to be lots of fun for an outdoor venue.
After a day of traveling, we hit the hay. The next day, I set up my atelier at the room desk. Ang relaxed watching movies. I sewed sewed and sewed. We decided to go to the fashion week venue, the Domain, for dinner for the purpose of finding the exact location of the show and to see what the area had to offer. We found a fun Mexican restaurant: cheered to our adventures, had a good meal and after wandering through the local Macy’s, we headed back to the hotel.
The next morning I had an 8:30am call time to do fitting with the models. Waking to freeze warnings, I once again felt bad for my warm weather designs, but as the models came through, they shared after day one they were fully prepared with UGGs and robes that they shook off just before hitting the runway. I was scheduled to show at 3:30pm. While I was bummed that I wouldn’t have my friend, and local, Carmen walking for Hopeless + Cause Atelier. I enjoyed out the looks I created meshed for the models assigned to me. I did have one last minute change but the line up was complete and ready to go.
I always enjoy when I have the time to talk with other designers. It’s wonderful to hear about their backgrounds and creative process. Events like Austin Fashion Week are filled with locals and there is such a big and supportive community locally. I shared a space with a swimsuit designer, Atlantia Swimwear. We shared our love of creating sustainable fashion and building a space for all body types.
Ang arrived about 1pm and I met her so we could get checked in. We did a customary usie and found some seats that she would have a close view of the show. I stayed around for half of the first round of designers. Then headed back upstairs to start dressing the models. I was second on deck for the 3:30pm show. I lined up with the models in an indoor hallway within the building we were working out of because it was so flippin cold to be outdoors until we received instructions to head out to back of house. Ang had asked me if I was going to walk out with the models when the end the show with their carousel walk. Ugh—if you know me, you know I hate that. I like for my designs to speak for themselves.
As we were instructed to head out to line up the models danced, ran in place and bundled closely to the ground to try to stay warm. A minute before we started, I pulled them together a took a photo then they lined up and hit the runway. The songs I chose for the show were: Nelly Furtado x Quarterhead All Good Things (Come to an End) and “Dreams” version by Borelli (thanks for all the inspiring suggestions they provided my motivation while I was creating).
I’m often asked how I find success after a show. Of course if I get an order for a design after a show, that is one measure. But another for me is how I feel after the show and how the audience reacts. I used to want to get picked up by a department store like Macy’s or Bergdorf but really I like being part of the major event in my client’s lives: a wedding, a gala, a special occasion that they have a one of a kind look for. I ended the show coming out to the ruway videotaping the models do their final walk and curtseying.
PC: Fashion By Events
How lucky am that I get to travel to show case my creations for communities all over to see and get to write about it. Once again I’m that woven thread to new places and experiences that I tie together with loved ones who travel with me. Thanks Ang for joining me and for having to deal with my Ms. Adventures…
Oh, my life is changing everyday In every possible way And oh, my dreams It’s never quite as it seems Never quite as it seems
Dreams, The Cranberries
A month and a half ago, I decided to escape to my family ranch in Mora, NM. It is the place I retreat to if I can’t get away to NYC. Believe it or not, it has the same powers of NYC in recharging my spirit. This time I decided to invite a high school friend that I had recently reconnected with. As I awaited his arrival, I sat in the kitchen trying to get a fire started when I saw the decks of cards. One of the ways we, as children, learned to pass the time, especially in the evenings when there was no tv, was to play solitaire. As I waited for the kitchen to warm up, I pulled a deck of cards, shuffled them and started laying out the game: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7, 2-3-4-5-6-7, 3-4-5-6-7, 4-5-6-7, 5-6-7, 6-7, and 7. If you’ve never played, I was taught to set up the game this way with each column’s end card facing up. Then you take the remaining deck and flip over every third card to try to use it. The premise on the main game board is to build back and forth black and red (or vice versa) from king to ace. Then to win you build on top of the game ace to king in the same suite (ie: diamonds, spades, clubs and hearts). It had been a few years, so I was quite rusty and I found myself restarting a few times before he arrived and I put it away.
It’s been quite some time since I sat down to write about the happenings within the Atelier. When I last wrote, I was on a high after the Hispano Chamber of Commerce’s business event that included some new designs from Hopeless + Cause Atelier. This year has already been an eventful year, personally and professionally. As I recover from one more surgery, I thought it was the perfect inspired moment to share what’s happening in this fashioned life.
I last wrote about my participation in the Albuquerque Hispanic Cultural Center’s fashion show, the exhilaration of being inspired to create again and especially to showcase that work to a local audience. The following Monday after the show, I had an email from a writer with Albuquerque the Magazine. I was intrigued thinking she saw my work that that show, to my surprise, she hadn’t. Instead she subscribes to the same FB group I do, and when a fellow creative tagged me on a post, she researched my work, was curious to learn more and pitched the idea to her editor for the creatives section of the magazine.
I also received an email from one of my favorite non-profits, Locker #505, to showcase my designs in their fashion fundraiser. Since the event was scheduled for mid-January and it wasn’t possible for me to create 10 new looks during the height of retail season (November-December), I decided to use past designs in a cohesive story. I reached out to some of my favorite collaborators to model for the event. It had been the first time in a couple of years, that I’d be participating in a full-fledged fashion show. It was also the place my career and passion project would collide as I would be styling the Prom segment with Macy’s fashion.
Albuquerque Journal, Monday, January 24, 2022, PC: Adolphe Pierre-Louis
This was such a fabulous event. I was on a high again. One of the photographers from Albuquerque the Magazine was there, and while I didn’t want photos of me, just of the models wearing the fashion, he did get a number of behind the scenes shots. I think I was feeling so good because it was a hint of the world opening up again and the hope of a return to some sort of normalcy. Oh but life has other ideas.
On Wednesday, February 2, 2022, I had my follow up appointment with my plastic surgeon. I had it in my mind that I’d have reconstruction scheduled sometime in March so I’d be healed in time for Isaiah & Brianna’s wedding at the end of April. I was both nervous and excited going into this appointment. Instead of opting do have reconstruction via implant, I chose to use my own tissue which entails a longer recovery period and a few days in the hospital. As I sat down with my doctor, she informed me that she is merging her practice with UNM Cancer Center. She mentioned that this move may make it easier for my insurance to approve this surgery. However, she couldn’t schedule my surgery until after the June move, so sometime in July or August. All I heard was, “another summer I’d be missing out on.” I left a little bummed.
Later that afternoon, I had a zoom call with my family and the doctors taking care of my grandma, who had been admitted to the hospital weeks before. Her medical team wanted to talk about the next steps whether rehabilitation center, hospice or home healthcare. This was a result of a fall just a few weeks before caused by a stroke. It was hard to hear and I was grateful I was in my cave and that my microphone on my tablet didn’t work because I was bawling. The family decided she needed to be in her home so agreed for home healthcare. I went on with the afternoon and had a long planned dinner date with Ang when the snow came down. It quickly turned to ice so we canceled. Four hours later, I made it home.
I was so excited to head to the ranch that weekend. I just needed to escape work, social media, everything around me. There was fresh snow, clear skies and deep conversations around the fire. I cooked and cooked and cooked. We went on walks. We made it up the hill to where my mom and grandfather were buried. I told the history of my family and this place and when I returned home, resolved that it wasn’t time for me to have surgery and I needed to get back to planning life. I needed that weekend…I needed my family home…I needed my mom to remind me of that.
I got back to Albuquerque and got back to work. Macy’s was the designated outfitter for the annual La Noche Encantada gala and I was the official stylist. Which means appointments and a prerecorded TV segment. I was planning a shop and sip event for Women United members and my clients. I started making the plan to outfit the community models for Go Red for women. I was planning to attend an event for Make-a-Wish with my store manager, and had an important birthday to celebrate, when after another February snow, I decided that Coco and I needed to go for our morning walk in the winter wonderland. I bundled up, plugged in my earphones into my iPhone, put on Coco’s lease and we headed out. As we hit the golf course, I paused and took photos of the beauty in front of me. We started out again, and as she does, she pulled. I pulled back trying to slow her down. I slide my left ankle turned and I fell, releasing her leash. I sat in the snow and I’m sure said, “oh FUCK”.
Coco went on to explore and chase the geese yards away. I sent a text to my minis and my brother…knowing they were probably on their way or already at work. Cati responded immediately telling me she was at home with COVID. And in that instant, my phone died. I was yelling for Coco to return, thinking about my trek most likely crawling back to my casita when my neighbor came out to see if I was okay. I said I think I broke my ankle. 911 was called on my behalf and the biggest scene ensued (I felt horribly embarrassed). Coco would go explore, come back and check to make sure I was still there and then go back out again, until the fire truck arrived. AFR walked up and Coco started barking and snapping at them. I told her to knock it off and once they started saying her name, she thought they were there for her. At first they tried to be my human crutches but ended up having to carry me back to my casita. Propped up on my recliner, they started taking my vitals and asking what happened. Some people get hurt doing something sexy like, skiing or snowboarding or in some sort of horrific accident. I get hurt walking. Cati arrived freaked out because she wasn’t able to get a hold of me and shortly there after my brother arrived.
After an ambulance ride to the ER, I was grateful to see a friend on duty. The team took great care of me, took x-rays, and released me just before noon. They called in a prescription for pain meds. Cati picked me up with my leg in splint and crutches. Within the first few hours, I knew they wouldn’t work so I made a Facebook request for a knee scooter and my friend Michelle accepted the request. The next day I met with a podiatrist. I had a Trimalleolar fracture–it was broken in three places so surgery was scheduled for February 25th. This wasn’t the surgery I was planning for but it is what it is. And the saddest part, by that afternoon the snow was all melted (welcome to NM…lol).
And here is where I’ve been ever since. I’m not going to lie or sugar coat it. This has sucked. Both prior surgeries, were rough but I could walk, drive my car and it didn’t take so much for me to get even the easiest of activities done. I was pretty depressed early on because I had to send my regrets in going to my dear friend Lalaine’s birthday and the Make-a-Wish event. I was super bummed that I wasn’t going to be able to go to Denver to celebrate my dear friend’s milestone birthday as I had planned when we were at the ranch. Then I remind myself, it could be worse. Right now there are people fleeing their homes with the clothes on their back and others loosing their life defending their country and everything they hold dear and I’m reminded to be grateful. I am so grateful for my minis, my family, and my dear friends who not only checked on me, but picked up groceries, took me to appointments, brought me flowers, meals and care packages, but most importantly got me out of the house.
The only redeeming thing that happened during this time was that the March issue of Albuquerque the Magazine was released. I got a copy and I absolutely love the article written about me. It’s the most concise history of Hopeless + Cause Atelier and how I got to be where I am. I haven’t been able to show outside of Albuquerque since 2019, but I have to say it’s pretty special to recognized in this way in your hometown.
Dozens of individuals were reaching out to help with their attire for the gala. I provided shoppable look books and placed orders for some and for the ones I couldn’t help in the store referred to my colleagues for assistance. I’ve been feeling helpless and uneasy about my return to work. I spend 80% of my time on my feet, walking throughout the store pulling inventory and returning it after appointments. I was not in a good place and learned rather quickly how difficult it is to not be able to walk.
The plan was to go with Ang to the gala even if it was just for the dinner portion. I needed to get out. I needed to get dressed up and to feel beautiful, because I wasn’t feeling it. So we had a plan, I outfitted her, ordered my dress and begged Cati to do my make up. My friend, Leola, made sure I had a glamorous splint by picking up sparkly material for me. I found out I could sew on my machine balance on one foot. My date and I were dressed to the nines. I decided to wear a wig in the theme of the gala — SPACE: Launching a Bold Tomorrow — but more so, to distract everyone from my scooter.
It was a powerful lesson on the lack of support for those who utilize assistance in their mobility. The event was in the convention center and parking was under Civic Plaza. I found that the easiest entrance to the center was steps, which I couldn’t climb, so when we tried the two elevators to get to ground level, they didn’t work. Angela had to drop me off and then go back, park and meet me at ground level. I found that the electronic doors openers, didn’t work or those doors were locked, and there were cables and layers of carpeting that made obstacles of my path, but I loved being there.
When people say I look like Cati, I normally correct them saying, she looks like me, but in this instance I look like her and my heart is happy!!!!
My plan worked. People did a double take when they saw me and initially didn’t notice the scooter as they were trying to figure out who I was. It was a wonderful evening seeing people who I hadn’t seen in what felt like years (and some it was before the pandemic). I even danced (well, I moved my booty and arms–especially guarding around me so no one bumped my leg). It was a night I think this community needed.
I haven’t been inspired or motivated to write and I really don’t know what has been that block. I started thinking about that Saturday afternoon and playing Solitaire again, and it provided some clarity. When I think I am in this alone, like the game of solitaire which is a game for one person to play, I am reminded that it is not one card played, but instead the hand played and how those cards can help you to achieve that end result. Sometimes they do and sometimes you have to fold and try again. And, I’m reminded how cathartic writing is for me. Thanks for reading.
I want more, impossible to ignore Impossible to ignore And they’ll come true Impossible not to do Possible not to do
A couple of weeks ago, I went out to do my daily task of watering my patio garden, when I stopped at my tomato plant. Just the day before, it was green, full of leaves and branches stretching out to the sun. It now had stumped branches and most of the leaves were missing, as I bent down to get a closer look I found a perfectly camouflaged green caterpillar had made it its meal. I picked off the caterpillar and put it in the grassy courtyard, I told The Very Hungry Caterpillar to go find a piece of cake.
I wasn’t sure if the plant would recover, but amazingly enough with water, sun and care it has returned, not completely same as before but its thriving today and bearing fruit. And I realized it was a spot-on metaphor for resilience.
On July 29, 2021, I completed 30 daily treatments of radiation therapy. After much thoughtful consideration, I opted to not to do chemotherapy. In my gut, I didn’t feel like it was the best option for me. However, based on the advice from the two oncologists I saw, I decided to do radiation therapy. I knew the 6 weeks of treatment was going to consume my summer, yet I didn’t know how much it would impact my body, which gave me some anxiety, but I thought that this treatment would be another level of protection and prevention.
I showed up for my radiation oncologist appointment on June 15th. After the consultation with my doc, the nurses came in and shared all the “fine print”…that is the side effects, while uncommon, I may develop another form of cancer from this treatment. This blew my mind because everything I have found to combat breast cancer: Tamoxifin, chemotherapy, and radiation have the possible side effect of developing a different form of cancer. They gave me instructions on how to care for my skin during and post treatment. The nurses told me about other side effects such as fatigue, radiation burn which would cause redness to the skin and the possibility of blisters, shedding and/or cracked skin. They mentioned the potential of esophageal issues like sore throat, heartburn or lumps developing. YAY (what the what)!! After I signed the forms, I was taken to the holding area, a small, homey room just for the women receiving treatment that included a changing area. This was the place I would report to daily over the next 6 weeks.
I took my obligatory #medicalgownselfie and realized that I’d be wearing the same style gown for entire period and taking daily photos would be NO FUN, so instead I challenged myself. Don’t judge, but I have a closet filled with shoes, honestly, a ridiculous amount. I figured I could easily pick 30 pairs of shoes and viola here’s how I could continue the fashion component of my journey. I waited patiently for the radiation therapist to take me back to who knows where for the next steps in creating my plan.
“What’s that, a blue freckle?”
I was met by Rebecca, who was friendly and had the duty of explaining to me what was going to happen: first body scans, body contortion and alignment, tattooed points, a cast of my breast (later lovingly and jokingly called my boob armor), and before I left the doctor would come in and take a final look at all of this. All this for the purpose of providing the most precise course of treatment. She took me into the radiation cave, and I met Elise another bubbly and super caring, therapist. We got to work. I stated my name and date of birth as I would do every day as a safety check to ensure my profile on the screens would match me, the patient. With gown down to my waist, I climbed on the hard molded plastic, reminiscent of an amusement park ride chair with a raised bump that I need to firmly rest my booty on. I laid down horizontally on this bench. They slid a pillow under my knees and asked me to raise arms over my head and grasp the handlebars. I was asked to turn my head slightly to the right on the super uncomfortable headrest. There were sheets under me for the purpose moving my body slightly up, down, to the right and to the left by the therapists. My body was dotted with marker as I was moved and readjusted for the exact path. Then came out the ink and needle and in an instant I had three new tattoos added to my collection, my own “blue freckles” (only two took, so now I have four tattoos total). My doc came in reviewed every thing and the therapists when on to create my molded armor for the purpose of more direct treatment. As they applied Vaseline to my body, they explained the process of the warmed material (I think some form of plastic) would be placed on my left side over my breast and would take shape. They would use this extra armor every other day through most of the course of my treatment. I explained to them that I grew up in the home of an artist, so I was familiar with the process of creating a mold and was super thankful that this time, it didn’t include Vaseline on my face and straws up my nose.
After that step was completed, the therapists said it would probably take a couple of weeks to create my schedule and walked me back to the waiting area so I could change and be on my way. Not even 48 hours later, I received the call and started my treatment. The first two weeks I didn’t feel any real side effects beyond a little tightness in my breast. I continued to work and my aunt, Lisa, was still coming over daily to walk Coco and I had enough energy to join them. Almost immediately, my routine started to feel like the movie, Ground Hog Day. I would wake, watch morning mass, go for a walk, go to work, multiple times throughout the day, apply excessive amounts of skin creams and oils, come home, eat, and fall asleep, and wake to do the same thing the next day.
I started to feel myself slip down the rabbit hole. It was hot…beyond hot summer weather. While I love my Jeep, the heat was getting to me with no air conditioning. I was told to stay out of the sun and that’s hard to do in a Jeep. The seat belt was starting to irritate me to the point that I didn’t want to wear it. Mentally, the fact that I couldn’t travel, and was starting to feel too fatigued to really do much beyond work, annoyed me. Luckily, I had friends that would get me out even if it was just for a light dinner. Yet, what I could and couldn’t wear was starting to weigh heavily. I wholeheartedly believe that what we wear has an impact on how we feel and carry ourselves. It plays into our psyche and into our mood. Weeks into treatment, I could no longer wear a sports bra and as a 40 something woman who had breast fed two children, there are some definite differences in my breasts right now. I also wasn’t running or doing yoga as I had been before this journey and I started feeling it.
My birthday was coming up. Don’t get me wrong. I LOVE celebrating my birthday. I believe birthdays are a blessing and the more around me to celebrate the merrier. It’s me and I know I’m a weirdo, but I don’t believe in telling people it’s my birthday, so over the years I just invite people to join me for either a cocktail or a meal but not telling them that it’s my birthday. There are several reasons why I have done this, 1: it’s the day after a major holiday that includes high consumption of alcohol so I don’t want people to feel like they obligated to join me if they need to recover, and B: it’s also the peak of summer time travel, and tres: I feel like people who want to celebrate my birthday know when it is, and I shouldn’t have to remind them. I know….weirdo!!
I woke up in a funk. I didn’t sleep well the night before because my neighborhood had decided to compete with the golf course on how could have the louder, more impactful fireworks display into the wee hours of the night and my poor Coco was so traumatized so when she couldn’t sleep neither could I. I should have woke up with excitement…it was my day, but I didn’t. My mini, KK, my aunt, Lisa, and my SIL, Yvette came to the rescue. I expressed my feelings of not being me to my KK. She validated them and said it was okay to feel the way I did. That was helpful. We picked up Yvette and tried to get pedicures. Unfortunately the shop was understaffed so we then decided to go to lunch. Place after place was an average hour wait. The other thing about having a birthday the day after a national holiday is when said holiday falls on Sunday, the observed holiday is the next day. So after driving all over, we landed it at El Pinto. I was grateful that they did this for me. And, I was excited for later in the day. I had invited friends and family, whom had been my support system, to join me for an after work social. Really, I wanted to celebrate them and with them. We finished lunch.The plan was to take a nap but our roaming around town trying to find something to do ruled that out. Instead I took the girls to their respective homes and hurried home to get ready.
My other mini picked me up and poor Isaiah and Brianna had to deal with my mood on the way to Revel. I just wanted someone to tell me that I’m pretty and to buy me something. I looked at myself deep into my hazel green eyes and told myself, “You are pretty”. I then went on to buy myself something. It worked, but not as good as arriving to my summer soiree and seeing so many incredible people who have been woven into my life.
Tears hit my eyes in gratitude and love and I was reminded to snap out of it!! I smiled all night as I spoke to each of these important people. Normally this day, I go around the room and talk about each person, how we met and their impact on my. The number was too great to do in one evening so I suggested that they get out of their comfort zone and meet each each other because they were all amazing to me.
Being able to see, hug and enjoy the company of some absolutely incredible humans, I was reminded how completely blessed I am. I shared four gifts:1. Sunflowers which are my favorite, but flowers in general remind me that when we’re feeling overwhelmed—that we’re not buried, but instead we’ve been planted to root and grow and bloom. Sunflowers reach to the sun, provide shade for others and once they’ve reached their peak, shed seeds of beauty for future generations. 2. Sparklers to remind us to be a light for others and to celebrate everyday….always…life is too short to not do it! 3. Bubbles to remind us to never loose sight of our childlike tendencies like wonder and having fun. 4. Spa face masks to remind us of self-care especially throughout the craziness of life. You’re no good to anyone if your not taking care of yourself first.
This is the joy injection I needed. I continued through the rest of July seeing friends as often as I had the energy to. I was still living that wonderful Ground Hog Day scenario, but my radiation therapists and doctor were telling me how good I was doing. That was uplifting! I continually had friends checking in and that was completely uplifting! I had decided early on to do a Instastory countdown which included the music I would hear each morning at the therapy. There was a moment when I truly thought my therapists were trying to kill me…that occurred when then the radio was stuck on a country station for three days. At one point, I wanted to ask if they could play the songs backwards so I could get my health back, my jeep would start, and my Chibi and Kiki would come back to life, but fortunately they put it back on a pop/rock station. Hallelujah!
As I think back on this experience, I don’t remember all the details (which is funny because as I was experiencing it I thought I’d never forget what I was going through). However, I have chosen to write about my journey, so that one day (and I know that day will be soon) I will be able to look a back and say I had this difficult time in life, but I conquered that mountain, and maybe someone else will read this, and as Brene Brown stated, “it will be their survival guide”.
It was my last week of radiation and because I have come to believe I am a self-sadist, I also had my second COVID vaccination scheduled (when I was my most fatigued and charred). I chose to get vaccinated at the advice of my doctor, the number of rising Delta Variant cases and because I had bought a plane ticket to NYC for fashion week….this was the carrot dangling and inspiring me to get through this treatment. Daily, I had Kristen and Ang checking on me….and honestly, so MANY checking in and sending good energy. THIS meant the world that they were cheering me on and genuinely concerned. Kristen asked if I was up for celebrating. I had a bottle of bubbly Rose waiting for my last day, a celebratory gift from my friend Eilene. After all I had been through, I was I definitely was up to seeing friends and even being a little extra. We opted for dinner at Scalo, my go to for so many important celebrations in my life (my mom used to take me there for my birthdays years ago and friends had planned my 40th there just a couple of years ago…it’s a special place for me).
I completed the challenge. 30 different pairs of shoes for 30 days of treatment.
My last day of radiation treatment was Thursday, July 29th. I arrived at NM cancer center with a large gift bag filled with the same gifts I gave a my summer soiree sans the sunflowers. I wanted the radiation team to know I much I appreciated them and the care they gave to me. I also donned my sparkliest kitten heel Badley Mischka pumps. I thought that would be the most appropriate pair to celebrate the end of my radiation. Ashley, who was one of my therapists cheered me on after the end of my last treatment and presented me with a certificate of appreciation. It stated, “I survived radiation and all I got was this certificate”. LOL–it didn’t–I was just checking to see if you are still reading?!? During those six weeks, I saw women of all ages come through the curtain into the waiting room. We talked about our experiences and cheered each other on. It was that camaraderie, like soldiers going into battle, that reminded me I am not alone in this experience. I now understand why people are dubbed cancer warriors. Cancer not only fucks with your body, but also your mind and spirit, yet you show up each day to battle.
A year before, almost to the date of my last radiation treatment I wrote about finally being comfortable with my body. Little did I know what the following year would hold.
This body has changed shape and size. This body has been made to feel self hatred. This body has indulged and starved itself. This body has felt immense pain, complete ecstasy, and everything in between. This body has created two humans. This body nourished them. This body endured the pain, loss and the difficult cleanse of a miscarriage. This body has lines around its smile and dimples in its cheeks and will one day stretch and sag. This body hasn’t had any surgical enhancements, lifts or fills and only broke a bone once, in the act of play. This body I try to persuade to like to run but it really likes to stretch through yoga and move through dance. This body enjoys wine, dinner with loved ones, and dark chocolate. This body comes alive with the right touch or embrace. This body has scars. This body is not perfect yet I catch eyes staring at it. This body is a work in progress. This body feels young like the summer sun except after long days on its retail legs. This body has art on it. This body is a work of art. This body is mine. And, I am grateful.
I’ve learned to love my outer shell…it’s been a work in progress throughout the years but I wouldn’t exchange it for anyone else’s. And lately, I had been feeling like Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas. I know all that had been done was to save me from the cancer spreading but I still hadn’t felt like me. So on this night of celebration I decided I needed a to be a little extra.
We had dinner plans for Saturday, July 31st. The last day of my birthday month and a big ass celebration for overcoming this obstacle on my path. Ang picked me up. The night was typical monsoon weather in Albuquerque. The heavens had opened up just hours before and was reduced to a constant drizzle. Dinner reservations were at 6:30pm followed by a cocktail at Copper Lounge the place were the journey began.
I decided to go all out in my extra-ness. I tracked down this incredibly revealing and beautiful blue dress (actually swim cover up) with the help of my colleague and friend in Cali and had saved it specifically for this evening. I did my make up (I know shocking) and hair (knew it would be a puff ball by the end of the night because of the humidity). One might ask, “why I would wear something revealing.” I wanted to display my battle scar. I am more than my treatment and to be honest looked amazing (not being conceited just being honest…I deserved to feel beautiful again). Ang picked me up just after 6:00pm. Arrived shortly after. I was joined by Kristen, Evelyn, Denise, Lee and Lalaine. Our table included a beautiful bouquet of flowers from Evelyn, and a bottle of champagne from the house. Kristen had alerted them of our celebration and our waiter, Arnaldo, shared his own personal story with breast cancer as his own mother was a 14 year thriver. He was the perfect person to help us celebrate the evening.
It was great to catch up with everyone. I hadn’t seen everyone all together for weeks. We laughed, drank bubbly, ate tasty food and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. They wouldn’t let me pay my share and that annoyed me but I had become a little afraid of Kristen and her sternness of ensuring this evening was about me.
This is for anyone out there who needs to hear this…really, YOU ARE!
The evening went on into the wee hours and it was absolutely perfect. It has been a couple of weeks and I have slowly moved back into some normalcy (well, as much as I can in a pandemic). I can’t wait to travel to NYC and Portland next month. I can’t wait for the day when the only answer to the question, “so what’s the next steps in your treatment”, is “to live a happy and healthy life”, but for now, I will be receiving monthly shots as part of my hormone therapy and then back on the table for reconstruction. I haven’t reached that mountain peak, but at least I can see it. I am still in pain, but it’s manageable. I have my body insecurities, but I remind myself who I am. And I remind myself on the daily how after every I am truly blessed.
Through this journey, I have learned how resilient I am. Sometimes resilience is knowing the day in front of you is a difficult one, but still moving forward, sometimes it’s resting, and sometimes it comes from your support team. I found this post on FB, while relating to the current pandemic, I thought it was the perfect ending to this blog and our own resiliency:
′′This moment humanity is experiencing can be seen as a door or a hole. The decision to fall in the hole or walk through the door is up to you. If you consume the news 24 hours a day, with negative energy, constantly nervous, with pessimism, you will fall into this hole.
But if you take the opportunity to look at yourself, to rethink life and death, to take care of yourself and others, then you will walk through the portal.
Take care of your home, take care of your body. Connect with your spiritual home. When you take care of yourself, you take care of everyone at the same time.
Do not underestimate the spiritual dimension of this crisis. Take the perspective of an eagle that sees everything from above with a broader view. There is a social question in this crisis, but also a spiritual question. The two go hand in hand.
Without the social dimension we fall into fanaticism. Without the spiritual dimension, we fall into pessimism and futility.
Are you ready to face this crisis. Grab your toolbox and use all the tools at your disposal.
Learn resistance from the example of Indian and African peoples: we have been and are exterminated. But we never stopped singing, dancing, lighting a fire and rejoicing.
Don’t feel guilty for feeling blessed in these troubled times. Being sad or angry doesn’t help at all. Resistance is resistance through joy!
You have the right to be strong and positive. And there’s no other way to do it than to maintain a beautiful, happy, bright posture.
Has nothing to do with alienation (ignorance of the world). It’s a resistance strategy.
When we cross the threshold, we have a new worldview because we faced our fears and difficulties. This is all you can do now:
– Serenity in the storm
– Keep calm, pray everyday
– Make a habit of meeting the sacred everyday.
Show resistance through art, joy, trust and love.”
It’s crazy how the world has turned upside down and inside out since I returned from NYC. A month ago, I wasn’t worried about traveling and Coronavirus was barely talked about. Now, there is world-wide panic, countries are quarantining their residents and people are stockpiling toilet paper and disinfectant. In fact, I was supposed to be traveling to Dallas this week for a conference but it’s been postponed with part of it happening virtually.
Life at home has taken a toll as well. You may or may not know I have two small pups: a pug-chihuahua mix and queen, Kiki, and a long hair dachshund of pure joy, Chibi. They are in their latter years, 14 and 13, respectively. Before I left to NYC, I asked KK to stay with them because Kiki, especially, has been feeling the effects of old age. Partially blind and with nervous system issues, she had been having problems walking. Since I’ve returned, she’s become completely immobile. I’ve only slept in my bed a handful of times the past month and a full-night, uninterrupted sleep, less than that. I have opted to sleep on the couch with a make shift bed for her right underneath me. Chibi usually joins us and typically right on top of her. She seems to know when I have important days scheduled the next day and makes sure I’m only functioning on 3 or if I’m lucky, 4 hours of sleep (the days I’m off she tends to give me a full 6 hours only waking up two or three times).
She also has major anxiety if she can’t hear or see me. For example, right now I’m sitting on my cheetah chair typing this with her at my feet (or in my lap) with my music playlist going. She vocalizes this anxiety and it isn’t a quiet yelp. She makes sure everyone including the neighbors know that she’s displeased I’m not with her. I no longer go to the bathroom, take a shower or make dinner in peace. I do yoga with her make shift bed next to me. I have found that the only other things that appease her are her CBD treats and putting on PBS in her bedroom when I leave for work. We go for walks almost every morning (except those night’s I didn’t get sleep and have an early appointment). She rests in my arms and I squat on the side of the road when I feel her hips open to relieve herself. Chibi is just happy to explore and I smile that I have these moments with them. It is the purest form of love and I try not to think about the day I won’t have these moments with them, but I also know that I don’t want her to live in pain so that moment that I can no longer comfort her easily…well, we won’t think about that. You do what you need to for who and what you love, right?
Because of this self-absorption, and honestly because I don’t watch the news, I haven’t been completely up-to-date on global events. I thought this virus was so far away from me. I had finally set aside time to focus on Hopeless + Cause Atelier again and started sketching and while Paris Fashion Week is 7 months away, I knew it would be here sooner than expected. Then this week, something extraordinary happened.
Those who have been following my design story from the beginning know that I was encouraged to apply to Project Runway five years ago…and I did. I had this professional and beautiful video created. There were so many people excited by it…almost as much as I was.
Here is the interview about it and other things happening at the time.
I didn’t have a lot of experience under my belt, but I had gumption. I didn’t make it past the application phase. I tried a few more times. But honestly, didn’t think I had the drama that the show seemed to warrant, so I focused on the things I could accomplish…NYFW, London Fashion Week and Paris Fashion Week.
As I’ve said before, I love to create. And if my creations give me the opportunity to travel the world and write about it, then I have lived a full life. I would love and not pass up the opportunity to have a world renowned brand, but I really want to create for those individuals that value what I have to offer. I also want to create in a sustainable way and we all know how the fashion industry adds to the environment and not always in a positive way. Hopeless + Cause Atelier is my passion project and if you don’t know the origins, here is the LINK to find out the story behind it.
Tuesday, I was walking the floor at work and happened to check my email. I had a message from casting with Project Runway. The woman said she found my brand and loved my work. She asked if I’d like to learn more. I went over to my Instagram account and found messages there as well. I knew this wasn’t a fluke so I responded saying I’d be on my lunch for the next half hour and I would love to talk to her if she had the time. I gave her my number, within minutes she was calling. We spent the next 15-20 minutes on the phone. She asked me about my design story, my aesthetic and other bits about me. I mentioned to her that I had applied before but didn’t feel like I brought the drama. She laughed and said, I had the personality for the show. She gave me instructions to submit my video and look book that evening. She then asked what the closest city would be for me if I made it on to the interview portion. I bluntly replied, “New York”. Confused by this answer and proximity to where I live, she asked about New York restating that I was from New Mexico. I told her I could get there via red-eye and for less than many of the other cities they were interviewing in. She pushed Austin and I finally, begrudgingly obliged. LOL.
That day was filled with meetings, clients and after work planning sessions. The first meeting after work, I met with two incredible chefs, Tristan and Bryan, my fabulous, event planner extraordinaire, George and right hand for Macy’s events, Lee. Sofi showed up early for our Paris Fashion Week discussion and joined in the conversation. This meeting was to plan an awesome event raising funds for hunger issues utilizing Macy’s products and support and tapping into the talents of our local culinary geniuses. Within the hour, we had the chefs in place, judges, venue and theme, 86ing Hunger. I love people that aren’t just idea people but also get shit done. Sofi, Lee and I continued our conversation into Paris Fashion Week and again the Coronavirus came into question. I reinstated that no matter what happens, if the airlines are flying and the production company is hosting, I will be showing my work in September. I had also shared what had happened earlier in the day. Although, Lee had witnessed my conversation and the smile on my face throughout that phone discussion. I had asked Sofi if she would take the video for that portion of the application. The casting director told me not to spend money on having a professional video done…that an iPhone video of me and my personality and some of my work would suffice. By the end of the conversation, and because it was a Tuesday night, I told her not to worry about it.
I got home and decided there wouldn’t be a better time than now to do the video. I went into my dinning room, aka Atelier, and started filming with my iPhone….and of course, Kiki started whining in the back ground. Because I didn’t want my video to sound like I was beating babies in the background, I moved her to my bathroom just for the video. I had originally tried holding her and holding my phone to video, but I couldn’t do both. After take twenty-nine, I finally got a few segments to work with. Exhausted I went to bed, thinking I’d get up early to edit the video and finish my look book.
That didn’t happen. Kiki had a rough night and that meant me too. I had three hours of sleep, a radio interview for a prom event I’m co-hosting with Locker #505 and Macy’s district VP visiting. Project Runway would have to be put aside until my next day off, Thursday.
Refreshed the next morning, I got to work on editing the video, creating my look book and completing the application. There was so much thought put into the images for the look book. It made me contemplate where I’ve been, where I’m at, and the possibilities of where I can go. Yes, I am a fashion designer (and as someone once told me to quiet that mind fuck called impostor syndrome, “Fuck yeah, I’m a fashion icon bitches.” STILL HARD FOR ME TO REPEAT). Yet, I am humbled because I KNOW I could not have accomplished what I have all on my own. I need the models, beauty teams, photographers, event producers, right hand production managers, but most importantly patrons, to bring my creations to life…to breathe individuality, beauty, empowerment and to live a dream into reality. And that was heavy…but in a powerfully good way!
I went on to complete the application. It was different this time around. No questions were found asking about restraining orders. The question about what those closest to you would say is your best and worst quality was found again (I’m interested to learn what you think…you can comment below). I completed the entire package within two hours and sent the casting director the link for my video and the look book.
I had been posting the turn of events on social media with wonderful support. I went out to Facebook and a memory from 5 years ago appeared. It was the first time I had applied.
I shared the memory and added, “Wow, this memory just popped up…5 years ago today, I applied to Project Runway for the first time. It wasn’t under Hopeless + Cause Atelier. I almost gave up on this dream only a few months later until my 💜 wouldn’t let me quit. Since then, I’ve accomplished more than I could have ever dreamed. I’ve stumbled. I’ve gotten my ass kicked more than once. But, I’ve also achieved new heights and now, I’m soaring because I’ve followed my deep pigeon red, lopsided heart. ♥️ Who knew?!?” It was now in the casting team’s hands.
I went on to contacting clients, planning events and enjoying life. Friday came and as I went to take the pups for their morning walk, I dropped my phone. Completely cracked, I couldn’t use it. Grrr! I returned to work to find out that my much anticipated trip to Dallas to learn more tips for succeeding in my role and seeing all my incredible colleagues, was postponed due to the Coronavirus. What the heck?!? Was someone going to come in and kick me in the shins next. That morning, I talked with a model friend about an event she is producing and wanted to know if I would outfit DV survivors. Honored, I jumped at the opportunity. I ran over to the phone “fix it” store in the mall. Ran back and met with one of my favorite couples in getting some items they needed. I went on and worked on other appointments when again that afternoon I was stopped in my tracks.
I received notification that I was moving on to the next round. I tried not to scream as I was suiting a gentleman for Kentucky Derby. While he was in the fitting room, I sent a text to those closest to me. Then at the register, I blurted it out to this complete stranger. He thought it was incredible…I just couldn’t help it. I posted later that evening…
PC: Kate Rodriguez Duran Hair: Ignacio Ortega MUA: Angelique Taylor Models in shot: Brook Benham, Smitha Giano Addy Nicole Jewelry: MINU Jewels Graphic Design on Hera dress: Meri C Fox-Szauter Location: Downtown Contemporary Gallery #hopelesscauseatelier – first show November 5, 2015
“I had no idea where I’d be in 5 years but I had a dream, the work ethic and the tenacity to believe I deserve it. I’M MOVING ON TO THE NEXT ROUND #projectrunway. Thank you for all the love and belief. Keep the positive energy coming please. There’s still a long way to go. More to come!! 😘”
I am moving on to the next round and it’s almost unbelievable. I’ve learned to so appreciate those who support me and tune out those that I thought would, yet are silent in moments like this. I’ve started the planning process and have found that I have an incredible leg up with one of my favorite models nearby and available to showcase my work (plus recruiting others). I can’t share the inner dealings of the process, but I will be journaling my adventures and will share more soon. I just REALLY hope the Coronavirus doesn’t ground flights. And since my pug is sleeping, I think I’m going to take a nap.
Thank YOU for the love and support…and if it’s not too much to ask, please keep sending those prayers, love, support and good juju. It helps immensely.
Feeling my way through the darkness guided by a beating heart I can’t tell where the journey will end but I know where to start
Avicii – Wake Me Up
I just returned from a 10-day, life enhancing Ms. Adventure. If you know me, you know I’m a novelist at heart. While this is a blog, it will be written in short, daily chapters because there is so much yummy goodness to share. I know I am not the first human being to travel solo abroad. My most recent and favorite tale is from Elizabeth Gilbert, who wrote a best-selling novel that was turned into a block-buster movie about her three months in each country: Italy, India and Bali. However, this was my first time traveling abroad and solo. It was a trip of self-discovery, adventure, reaching another level in fashion and finding myself when I didn’t know I was lost. I would suggest that everyone take a solitary trip, even if it’s in your backyard because you will find what is important to you and how to best care for yourself, so you can be better around others.
Also, know my adventures aren’t for the faint of heart, so I will preface it saying, first, I am directionally challenged. If I wasn’t right-handed, I would turn around in circles. You may laugh, but every time I have to determine direction from my left-to-my-right, I raise my hand to “air write” with my right hand and then, lift my other hand to form a “L” to determine my left. This inability is enhanced when I’m underground and can find no landmark to help me understand which direction is what. Second, my other obstacle is being on someone else’s timetable. I think that’s why I enjoy walking everywhere. I get there when I get there. I don’t have to worry about missing the tube, a boat ride or even a flight…these are just a couple of things to keep in mind when reading. This is not a tale about traveling in the lap of luxury. I am not the most graceful traveler, nor do I pretend to be. I stumble, I fall, I don’t have all the right things to say, but I am perfectly imperfect stitched together with good intentions which makes for a fun story. I am a creative in getting out of sticky situations and what stresses out others, is the way I roll sometimes. Oh yeah, and I use curse words when I’m passionate about something or I’ve had too much wine, which both occur in this novela (It’s more than the typical 1500 to 2000 words found in my norm blog, but if you read it through, I promise you will laugh, most likely shake your head and may find some insight in the human psyche). Okay, shall we start? Brilliant!
This Ms. Adventure was Set in Motion, January 2019
I started the year, as most do, with a blank slate. I knew I wanted to leave 2018 behind, really more like, burn that bitch. I could not carry the weight of such an ass kicking that 2018 bestowed on me in the many ways it did. However, my biggest takeaway was that life is too short. When opportunity presents itself, grab it by the hair, pull it in and kiss the shit out of it, so I began the year with changing my number. If I want to be in NYC, I need to envisage it, live it, be it…this was my first step.
Next, the opportunity for a chance to spend a sabbatical in Grottle, Italy came across my email. It was sponsored by AirBNB. Three months in Italy, I thought, would be an incredible experience. Although, I hadn’t been with Prosperity Works for quite a year and I didn’t have enough PTO to cover that period of time, I had an innate urge to apply. I wanted to go somewhere far away from NM and be immersed in another culture and life. I talked about wanting to learn Italian cooking, language and focusing on my writing as I would live in this centuries old village. I almost began an “only in my dreams” blog when I wasn’t selected, but I didn’t do enough research to make it believable (maybe it will be a future blog or maybe it will be a real Ms. Adventure). Why was this significant this year? Because I had a tremendous urge to go somewhere I’ve never been before, to be immersed into something that wasn’t familiar or that I could use others as a crutch in visiting, and I really wanted to finally get my passport and have it stamped (this would give me a definite time frame to do it). When I wasn’t selected this was the universe’s way in telling me, this is not for you.
I decided instead that I would go to NYC when the opportunity presented itself (and I could afford it) starting with NYFW in February. Even though I wasn’t showing, I’m so happy I did. It catapulted the beginning of this adventure. I had dinners with a few friends in between shows. First, I enjoyed a lovely evening with my friend Amanda and her husband, Andy, in New Jersey. I love history and they took me to this incredible turn of the 19th century bar and restaurant. It had been a couple of years since we had seen each other. It was a wonderful opportunity to catch-up by the end of our conversation, she commissioned me to create a custom piece for her…that meant I had to visit the city again at least once more for measurements (but knowing me, at least 3). I then continued on to see and be inspired by a few fashion week shows, and while always inspired, I NEEDED to get back into the circuit of showing, so I spoke to a few production companies about NYC and beyond. The night before my departure, I had an extraordinary evening with a childhood friend, Lucas. We had thought provoking and wonderful conversation, sumptuous food and delicate wines, and as he walked me back to my hotel, he gave me the greatest gift (whether he realized it or not), he offered a place to stay when I visited. I don’t think he understood the magnitude of what that would mean for me this year.
In February, I was approached by The Society Fashion Week to show in Los Angeles during LAFW in March with the production fee waived (and to make it feasible, my BFF, Laura, and her husband, Ed, graciously opened up their home for me to stay while in LA). The Society wanted me to see the changes they made first-hand and talk about a longer contract. This is where the seed for London was once again planted. This time I could actually make it work within my budget (as much as I wanted to show in September 2018, the basic production fee of $10,000 with another company was cost prohibitive). I had a glorious time creating the inspired looks based on friends’ photos from earlier in the year. On top of that, I was able to return to NYC (thanks to Emet who gave me an airline voucher) attend an incredible forum, hosted by the Tory Burch Foundation, the night before my showing. While this was happening, the universe was setting something else in motion.
The week before LAFW, I had been contacted by an executive recruiter on LinkedIn. At first, I wasn’t sure it legit. However, as we communicated back and forth, I was being presented my ideal career role. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the work I was doing and especially the people I worked with. I was finally getting into my grove. Yet, this opportunity would get me back into fashion, community relations, media relations and working one-on-one with people again. Through out the interview process, I asked the question, “will I have a path to New York” and every single step of the way, the answer was “yes”.
I returned to NYC in April, with a gifted voucher from one friend and a place to stay from another, I met Amanda, took her measurements and contemplated the move to Macy’s. In fact on a beautiful spring day, I went to Herald Square, sat and looked at the iconic star hanging above. My moment of pause was really contemplating the return to retail, especially brick and mortar in the age of so many department stores closing. While weighing through the pros and cons, Lucas called and I explained to him what I was doing. He reinforced that I needed to go for it. When I returned to Albuquerque, I did. I was now at a place that I could afford to support the leap of showing in London.
During this time, I continued to write about my journey, my fumbles, my touchdowns and all that I encountered on the way. When I set up this blog, it was for me to understand what was happening in my life. However, those of you who have and continue to read it and are actively sharing your comments and thoughts on how it has impacted you, you’ve made me feel like there was something there…that I’m not alone in what I’m going through. I write about these experiences of this crazy, beautiful life with a force that I can’t deny or try to hide. I don’t know the answers and I don’t pretend to, but I do have my own story filled with chapters of discovery in who I am; how I hope I can impact my surroundings and hopefully, sometimes for the better.
Pushing Through Exhaustion, La Vita é un Dono & the Hook Up Plan – Saturday, September 7
In order to properly prepare for London Fashion Week, I had taken additional PTO during the week to finish off the collection, pack and prep. However, work is really taking off quite lovely and I’ve been pulled in to lead several projects. As I was trying to wrap up loose ends, my time off did not occur as much as I had hoped. I was staying with Lucas again in NYC and he was going to be out of town while I was going to be there, so I thought that would provide the time I needed to complete the looks. I gave in and decided to pack my sewing machine which meant a full-sized bag for the machine, tools, fabric and other electronics, a garment bag for all my completed outfits and a carry-on for my clothes. I opted not to take my laptop this time, so I’d have to rely on my notebook to journal while on my trip. With bags packed near the door, I headed out about 5am to catch my 7am flight to NYC with a connection through Houston. I checked the two bags, went through security and while I was putting my shoes back on, I was approached by friends, Laurie and Dennis. They were headed west. What a wonderful unexpected blessing to see them and good omen before my flight! Laurie explained to Dennis about my trip, they wished me luck, and we both shared safe travel sentiments and embraced. Life truly is a gift and the best ones are in those moments you don’t expect. I headed toward my gate, boarded, said my usual prayers for a safe flight and then the excitement finally hit me and like a kid on Christmas morning, I wanted to squeal with excitement, but I remained composed and just smiled.
I arrived in Houston and received instructions on how to pick up the keys for the apartment. I re-emphasized my absolute gratitude and wished him a wonderful weekend. I arrived in NYC at about 3:00pm. After gathering my bags, grabbing a Lyft and traveling through the traffic to Momofuku Saam Bar in the lower east side, I arrived at my location looking like I was running away from home with all my possessions in hand. It was between the restaurant’s lunch and dinner service, so only staff were inside. A young woman, either a hostess or waitress, was near the door and doing her best to ignore my knocks. She finally came to my attention looking a little perturbed by my intrusion. I asked for the contact that Lucas gave me, and when she came to the door, introduced myself and expressed my gratitude for helping me out. She welcomed me back for dinner service and I responded saying I might take her up on it. With Lucas’ apartment only a few blocks away, I opted to awkwardly make my way with my all luggage in tow. Once I reached his apartment, exhaustion hit me. In the week prior, I was on the go a lot more that I had thought.
Originally, I had planned to go out to a couple of Fashion Week shows, but I knew I’d be no fun, with the next day consumed by sewing, so instead I opted to walk to Trader Joe’s for wine and a few snacks. On my way I stumbled upon a street-wide yard sale. It was so fun to see what possessions the East Villagers were selling, everything from record albums, to vintage jewelry, to crystal dishware, to clothing was on display. The street was bustling, and the weather was absolutely gorgeous. I didn’t buy anything but admired the wares. I came across a bow brooch and again was reminded that life is a gift. I continued on my way. I bought a bottle of Rose, ingredients to make Caprese salad, and a few more snacks. As I walked back, I forgot that he literally lives across the street from Shake Shack and a Caprese salad didn’t sound so satisfying after all. I grabbed a bun-less burger, popped open the bottle of Rose, binge watched the Hook Up Plan (a French romcom that would get me in the right mindset for Paris–it’s totally fab you should check it out and SEASON 2 comes out on October 11—EEK!!) and settled in for the night wrapped up in a Zia blanket, a little NM comfort on this adventure.
Sewn Fingers, Clarity & Purple Rain – Sunday, September 8
I woke early, opted for coffee and realized I needed conditioner, so I headed out to Starbucks and CVS. I was the only one up at 6am besides a few homeless people, a man dancing on the corner of Astor Pl and 8th, the street vendors setting up for the day, and a big fat rat running down the street. Gotta love this city! I got back to the apartment finished my coffee, did yoga and after a shower, set up shop. I spent the day cutting, pining, and sewing the material into my creations. It was good that I was alone, but I was also sad that I was missing out on a beautiful day of exploring….but sometimes you’ve got to werk!! Lucas was actually coming back into town, so I was happy that I had wrapped up and cleaned up my mess just before he walked in. I was at the point where I had all the outfit shells done and either needed zippers or embellishments to complete the looks, plus I had been working 10 hours straight and knew I’d soon start sewing my fingers together. I was sitting on the floor when he arrived and popped up to greet him. We talked about our days, I asked about his Hampton’s weekend and he asked about my trip so far. We talked about plans for the evening. He wasn’t sure if I’d be busy with shows and he was planning to go to watch football. I hadn’t really thought about what I was doing yet, but needed to get to the trim shop before it closed for zippers and embellishments. I quickly changed and told him I would text him as soon as I figured it out. He teased me because knowing how much I loathe the subway, I was figuring out my route to M&J Trim on foot. He said the former would be quicker. I responded saying I’d miss out on the world and this beautiful day taking the subway.
There is so much to find along your path in NYC from a Burberry pop-up. I didn’t have time to stop at Herald Square this time. 🙁 Got to work and enjoyed a few minutes of the NYC summer day.
And I was right, there were so many squirrel moments a long my path, like a Burberry marketing pop-up, fashionistas “popping angles like they’re fabo”. I ran past Macy’s Herald Square, and as much as I wanted to go in, I didn’t have time. I got into the trim shop and I was like a kid in a candy store…so much to see and add to my collection. Who knew zippers, ribbon, trim and bows would add up and cost $60?!? As I was checking out, I realized I hadn’t eaten all day. I also checked the times of a couple of shows for that evening that I had been invited to. One was at 6pm. I had missed it. Then next one was at 8pm. PERFECT! I would make it back to his apartment change go to the show and we could meet for a late dinner. I sent him a text and we agreed to meet back at the apartment at 9:30pm.
I rushed back to change and headed back out to the theater district in a shared Lyft. Sometimes you make some incredible connections in the back of a Lyft. This one was with a couple who were visiting, but after a little bit of an inebriated conversation (on the women’s end), she found out that I was attending fashion week shows and showing in London. In return, I found out that she worked in the industry as a reporter for various fashion outlets. We connected on Instagram and she gave me advice on who I should reach out to. It was great. The Lyft arrived at their location and I wished them adieux. I was dropped off next…Sony Music Hall for Fashion X.
I love seeing the attendees arrive as much as I love seeing the designers’ creations, especially the younger crowds. The fashion forwardness of these events makes me feel like I am totally in my element. I sit back and watch in awe of the creativity, the confidence and the individuality of the attendees. I, myself, chose to wear a Grecian, Goddess-like dress I had been convinced I needed in my life. Mauve, plunging neckline, strategic cutouts, a slit and floor length, it was probably more a beach, poolside or wine festival attire, but paired with a turquoise squash blossom necklace a cropped denim jacket and my big hair. It seemed appropriate for this event and other attendees agreed as I received several compliments on my look.
That’s the other thing about these events, true fashionistas love to give love to looks that are killing it and take pictures of it as well. The venue was a music hall. The alcohol was flowing, and this particular event was all about PRIDE. It was fabulous. I headed back to about 9:20pm. Lucas beat me back he was hanging out in the hall on the phone when I arrived. I sneaked by into his apartment to freshen up. A few minutes later we headed out. We decided to go around the corner to a Japanese diner he’s found of. As we sat down, he asked if there was anything I wouldn’t try. I said I don’t eat babies: veal, lamb, etc… I also mentioned I’m doing Keto, so lower carbs, but as I always do, I left it up to him to order. He ordered Orion Lagers, grilled veggies, fried squid, deep fried quail eggs, and dumplings to start. Keto was out the door and my carb debauchery for this trip began.
We talked about the show and he mentioned he liked my look. I told him I didn’t get beach time with this dress, so I decided to rock it for NYFW. We talked about all the incredible things happening in our lives. I mentioned his feature in the New York Times for opening his latest, Bar Wayo. He mentioned how he loved what I was doing for fashion in NM, with my TV segments, and the Elle UK feature. We talked about work in general and how the summer was going as we received our tasty bites.
We continued to talk about life and he asked me if I was dating. As my immediate and automatic reaction, I’m sure I made a face like I smelt something rotten, and I said, “no.” He asked, “why not?” I replied, “I don’t have time. I’m not interested in dating anyone right now. I’m interested in figuring me out”…yada yada yada”. What I didn’t say is that while I enjoy the conversation, laughter, opportunity to explore and intimacy in a relationship, but I’m not interested in the games or inauthenticity that tends to be found when people are trying too hard. I’m no longer looking for the butterflies. I want the calm and the sense that my whole being is smiling when I’m with the “right” man. I also want someone who looks at me like a fat kid looks at cake (I know that’s politically incorrect, but it is what it is) and can’t help keep his hands off of me and not in that grabby hands kind of way, but the subtle touch just to let me know he’s there. The biggest thing is I want is someone who I’m not afraid to look into the his eyes with real intent to know his being, because I do believe that is the path to knowing the soul of someone. I’m not physically able to do this with surface relationships. I mentioned I do miss having the male perspective that I’ve had with my guy friends, but sadly, my best ones have moved away from NM. In that moment, I missed Roby, Sergio and Damon. He went on to mentioned that he started dating someone just a few weeks ago and she was different from everyone else he had dated before. I could tell he was a little “lighter” than the last time I saw him and that made me smile.
We talked about the last trip in June and the awkwardness that I felt compelled to address when I returned from it. It wasn’t the most opportune time to do it, because it was smack in the middle of his bar opening, but it bothered me immensely and I value our relationship so much that I needed to clear the air or run. We worked it out like friends do and I told him that I appreciated that he valued me enough to take the time to address it. We continued with another round of beers and food. I absolutely love our conversations! We talk about everything and nothing. We talked about the food, his love of diners like this (which made me really look around and soak up my surroundings), my upcoming travels, the inspiration for this collection, and randomness like how wasabi and hot mustard are my crack (it hurts so good). The whole time laughing and enjoying each other’s company.
He mentioned a speakeasy on the other side of this random door in the restaurant. I asked if it was a speakeasy or a dive bar because of the Rolling Rock and other neon lights that were behind the glass. He informed me that it was this beautiful turn of the century, high-end, intimate bar where the Japanese bartenders created craft drinks. I couldn’t see it with the neon flashing at me. When we wrapped up dinner, headed over. It was as he stated–this completely transformed space that boggled my mind. We ordered a cocktail each: I, the gin based Purple Rain, he, the vodka-based Sunflower, and we opted to share. We continued to talk. He talked about proper protocol for making cocktails and how they bartenders never smile. I looked back smiling as I normally do, and the bartender smiled back…broke that theory.
Photo courtesy of Angel’s Share
I am a huge history buff but even more so about the people who have crafted the world we live in today. As we sat at the bar overlooking Stuyvesant Street, he talked about it being the only true west to east street in Manhattan. He talked about the Dutch man who founded this area only to have it taken by the English in later years. He also talked about the best time to have a cocktail in these seats, facing the park below, which was when it’s snowing because you can see a bit of beauty and peacefulness in this often chaotic city. In our discussions, I’ve learned that Lucas derives history and culture in crafting the experiences he creates in his restaurants and bars, and I love that. We are kindred spirits in that way. Each bespoke piece I create has a story and especially for those commissioned pieces where I get weave my creation into someone’s important moment in life.
Across the Pond & the Customer Experience – Monday, September 9
I carried Our Lady and Saint Jude with me as my guides on this trip.
The next morning, I woke around 6am. Well actually and unfortunately, I woke before that at about 3am with chills throughout my body—the cold that you feel in your bones and you can’t seem to shake or warm up from. I don’t know why, it wasn’t like the air conditioner was on. I didn’t want to make too much noise, since Lucas was working the next day, so I wrapped the blanket it tightly around me and curled up into a ball. After all that, my body was not sleeping past 6am. I quietly began to get back to work, earbuds filled with music in my ears and me, sitting pretzel style on the floor, pinning the last few garments with their zippers and embellishments. Lucas got up and ready for his day and before heading out, and wished me luck. I continued working throughout most of the day, missing out on another gorgeous September day in NYC. I repacked my bags, storing the large one with the excess material and sewing machine under his bar table. I headed to JFK a little early because I didn’t know what to expect going through international travel gates. I got to my gate with plenty of time. It was interesting because the normal bustle I find at JFK wasn’t found in the international gates. It was calm and quiet.
Before flying on Virgin Atlantic, I felt flying lacked the
customer experience. I remember hearing about how glamorous flying used to be.
Today’s travel via flight is more like a cattle call, you line up, you go on
board, maybe you get peanuts, you sit in uncomfortable seats and you countdown
until you arrive at your destination. This was my first time flying abroad, and
the team at Virgin Atlantic made it a memorable experience, a luxurious
experience. From the welcoming when I stepped through the door with the crew in
the smartly dressed uniforms, to the pillow, blanket and headphones waiting for
me in my comfortable economy seat, the gratis cocktail hour, to the choices in
food, beverage, and entertainment, to the option to shop duty free from my
seat, all this value with an affordable ticket price. As tired as I was from
the lack of sleep the night before, my 2nd or 3rd wind
kicked in and the realization that I was on my way to London kicked in. I think
I finally fell asleep but not more than 2 or three hours. We arrived in London earlier
than our scheduled arrival and now I had to figure things out.
Train Station Yoga, What the Eff Did I Do, & Memories of the Past – September 10
As I de-boarded the plan, I had to figure out this whole border control/customs thing. I was sad when I realized that I wouldn’t get a stamp in my passport in London. Instead, they use bio-metric scanning to approve your entrance into the U.K. which is pretty sci-fi and creepy to me, but I guess this is the world we live in now. As I walked out to baggage claim and walked through the arrivals gate and very much had a flash back to the opening scene in “Love Actually” people awaiting the arrivals. It looked like to me with all the signs it was more hired drivers than loved ones, but it still gave me those ooey gooey feels, I smiled. I wanted to stop and quote Hugh Grant’s opening monologue,
“Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it’s not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it’s always there – fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge – they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaky feeling you’ll find that love actually is all around.”.
Love Actually
But I didn’t. I carried on. I figured out that I needed to take the Heathrow express train into Paddington Station. As I waited for the express with the other passengers and feeling a little punch drunk due to a lack of sleep, I wanted to ask where platform 9 ¾ was. Again, I stifled my urge because I knew it wasn’t as funny as I thought it was (I still giggled to myself). I booked my flat with a rental company. The area I was staying in was directed by the location of where the fashion show was originally going to be. When looking at hotels in that area, the average cost per night was £450. I found this rental company and the cost for my entire stay was going to be as much as one night. The reviews relating to the room were great. My only apprehension was the shared bathrooms but saving approximately $3,000, I could suck it up.
The only problem with my accommodations was the fact that check-in time was 1pm. I tried calling the day before to see if I could store my luggage until I could check-in, but no one answered so I left a message and didn’t receive a call back. When I got to Paddington station about 8am, I decided to hang. I really couldn’t chat with anyone back in the states as it was the middle of the night, so I went to a coffee shop and people watched. Feeling tight from my contorted sleep the night before, I thought about breaking out and doing yoga, but didn’t want to draw the attention. At one point an alarm went off, asking everyone to exit the train station. That took me by surprise until one of the workers said not to worry about it, it was just a drill they did every Saturday and Tuesday. In my mind, I thought it better be I don’t my journey to end before it started. Around 11:30am, I made my way to the train station, luckily the train I was taking was a direct trip to my location so no train hopping on this venture.
I arrived at Aldgate East Station approximately 30 minutes later. As I descended from the station, with my roller bag and crossbody garment bag in to and up what seemed a thousand stair steps, I had officially arrived in London. The area I was staying in was Shoreditch and it was bustling with people. I put my earbuds in and set Google maps to my flat. I was reminded of two things to prepare for my trip: 1. Mind the Gap—the space in between the trains and the platforms, also the sidewalks and streets and 2. I needed to look to my right vs my left (remember the directionally challenged comment I made before…just think how long it took me to cross each street, and really, it initially did). I started on my way, but my earbud plug into my phone kept falling out because I bought one of those bulky covers that charges your phone and the earbud jack just wouldn’t stay in place, so every few steps I’d I have to push it back in to hear the directions. It was frustrating. I knew I wasn’t far from my flat, but I was lost. I was used to street signs on every corner back in the US. In London, they are on the sides of some buildings, but not all. What I thought were just alleys were in fact streets. Many of the streets reminded me of my conversation from the night before—Stuyvesant Street—in the ways the crisscrossed the others. I know I looked lost and like a tourist, and felt like what the eff did I do, but I soldiered on. When I finally got on the right path, I was stopped by a young woman asking for directions. Did I look like I knew where I was going? Unfortunately, I couldn’t help, but I’ve been told before when stopped in NYC and other places that I look like I’m a resident of that town and that made me feel a little better.
I arrived at my location. It was bustling street filled with clothing vendors and fabric shops. Could I have been in a better spot? It reminded me of a mixture of Chelsea (but not the posh London neighborhood, the gritty NYC neighborhood) and Santee Alley in LA. I approached a discreet door with the sign “Monopoly accommodations” above it. It was wedged between two store fronts. I rang the buzzer and a young Russian or eastern European woman came to greet me. I told her I had a reservation and she took me to my room. It was on the second floor of this winding building. She showed me the bathroom just a few steps down from my room and the kitchen a few doors on the other end from my room. She opened my flat door and I found the room was perfect for my stay, very minimalist in furniture and décor with a full-sized bed that I could just melt into in that moment, a good sized wardrobe, a flat screen TV on the wall next to a desk and chair and on the other end what looked like a faux fireplace. The window was slightly cracked open and there were black out shades (although, a couple of hooks were missing so one side so it wouldn’t completely close). She handed me my key fob for building entry and the code for the lock on my room. I asked if I should follow her back down to the office to settle payment, she said I could do that whenever, so she left and immediately took off my clothes and climbed into bed.
I woke a couple hours later to the sound of children. I was staying in a real neighborhood and my window faced the back of some residential flats. I decided to get up and go wandering. While sitting in the train station, I reached out to this foodie Instagrammer from London, IG: @KS_ate_here, that Cati had connected me to because of his drool-worthy posts. I told him I was staying in Shoreditch and would appreciate him sharing his favorite eats. He gracefully did. I decided I would try Gloria, an Italian Trattoria just a few blocks from me. Before heading out I took care of my room tab, then headed out. Exploring the neighborhood, I realized it was three in one: 1. an immigrant community filled with African fabric shops and Muslim vendors, 2. when I turned a corner, a bustling, business area with smartly dressed men and women catching the tube at the end of their day, and 3. turning another corner, a posh up and coming neighborhood filled with high end boutiques and eateries in centuries old buildings. It was interesting that this was all found within a four-block radius.
I arrived at Gloria and based on the feedback I received, I wasn’t sure I’d get a seat without a reservation. I guess I arrived early enough that they were able to squeeze me in. Where I was seated, I had the perfect view of the entire restaurant. I sat across from a couple that looked like they could be in the UK show, “Made in Chelsea” (I miss not being able to watch it in the US)—she in a leopard halter with the perfectly chiseled (and probably enhanced) face and body; he in head-to-toe Givenchy (I wanted to tell him you don’t have to wear the logo tee with the logo belt and it’s okay to wear different designers). Instead I just smiled to myself. I ordered a cocktail and perused the menu. Everything about this place felt familiar. It reminded me of my great-grandmothers home in Mora. From the Holy Cross on the wall, to all the geraniums and plants, to the dishware, the only thing missing or that I couldn’t see if there was Crown Royal in their back bar.
I was definitely going to order burrata, so when looking at the choices, I smiled when I read about the “Nude” burrata. It was referencing Marilyn Monroe and one of my BFFs, Lynella, loves her. She had been asking about my trip throughout the past few days, so I felt like in a way she was here with me. Another moment that made me smile, was when I looked down and saw the wooden-handled knife next to my plate. In March, when I visited NYC, Lucas and I had dinner at this local Greek restaurant we had this vibrant conversation about what creates memories and I looked over and saw the knife and said that it reminded me of dinners at my grandma’s. I returned from that trip to go to dinner at my gram’s and what did I find, that wooden knife. We talked about it at dinner just a few night’s before, so again, I felt like he was in that moment with me. I sent them photos to try to have them guess…Lucas easily guessed Lynella’s reference, but had totally forgotten our conversation. Oh well, I had fun with it. I ordered the burrata and pizza (carb debauchery continued). I hadn’t eaten since 8am when I had an almond croissant and cappuccino. The meal melted on my tongue and I’m sure I looked like I was having a “When Harry Met Sally” moment look on my face. The restaurant was now full of afterwork patrons and groups, so I figured I’d be on my way to open up my table for the next diners. When I received my check, £1 was automatically added to support a non-profit providing mentorship to youth in the community, which if you know me, you know I love this. Everything about this dining experience made me feel like I was supposed to be here.
I returned to my flat and decided to call it a night because I was leaving super early the next morning to Paris. My flight was at 6am which I figured, I’d need to be at the airport by 4am. I was flying out of Luton which by train would be 1 hour 15 or by Uber 45 minutes. Being solo and the number of connections it would require by bus and train, I opted to fork over the £45 to call an Uber. I figured I’d get up by 3am and head out. I finally fell asleep about 11pm a little anxious trying to convince myself to bypass Paris and just stick around where I was comfortable and somewhat spoke the same language. My spirit wasn’t having it. I woke at 2:45am exhilarated to go on this adventure.
A Fox, Locks & a Wrong Turn – Wednesday, September 11
Dressed and ready and selfie taken by 3am, I called for an
Uber. Within 10 minutes, I was in the car ready to go. As we turned the corner,
I saw something so misplaced I couldn’t help but stare. At first, I thought it
was cat and then I thought I was groggy and my mind was playing tricks on me,
but it was indeed a fox—a fox in an urban neighborhood! It was awesome and a
little out of place, so of course I had to Google the symbolism of it. Here are
some fun things I learned:
There is a good reason the old adage: “clever as a fox”. In truth, these creatures are extremely clever, and remarkably resourceful. From hunting strategies to camouflage – the fox gets about the business of living life with sass and class. Many myths (Native American comes to mind) designate the fox as a jester or trickster. In China, fox animal symbolism revolved around the afterlife. Lore has it that a fox sighting was thought to be a signal from the spirits of the deceased. Celts believed the fox to be a guide, and was honored for its wisdom.
I saw this as a good omen and it relieved a bit of my anxiety. I arrived at the airport about 45 minutes later and I was grateful my driver didn’t fall asleep at the wheel, slamming was seemed as energy drinks while constantly yawning. I got through security super quick. I had no bags beyond my crossbody and there was no checking passports and I had my boarding pass. So I walked toward the gates, through the Candy Land path of duty free shops, still not knowing which gate to go to. The interesting thing about this airport, you’re not notified about your gate until about 20 minutes before you board the plan. Once I was received my gate information, I made my way to what seemed like a holding cell. The doors opened and we walked out onto the tarmac and climbed stairs into the plane. I had a window seat and did my very best to take a nap. This time I succeeded only awaking when the captain made his announcement about our descent into Paris.
Not really having a complete game plan for the day. I had
reached out to Sofi and Jamie both had family that lived in or near Paris and
had traveled there before. Jamie had the most succinct itinerary for 10 hours
in this city but it incorporated much of what Sofi had shared with me. Sofi
even tried to connect me with her family, but as life has it, they were
actually in the middle of a move to the US. Go figure.
I told Jamie that I was traveling into Charles de Gaulle.
She said I should take the train in because I’d be stuck in traffic forever. She
also warned me of thieves. Great, if I wasn’t already on edge this added to my
hyper-awareness. LOL. When I arrived in Paris, I got my stamp. YAY!!
In the airport, I had help with the trains I needed to take from a friendly attendant. She suggested that I purchase an all-day pass as it would be good for all trains and buses. At €16, it was a done deal. Luckily, I only had to switch trains once. However, when I got to the change station, I did ask for help from a pretzel shop attendant. Trying my best to speak French, I said: “Bon jour mademoiselle. Si’l vous plait..” and pointed to the train I needed to take, she pointed to train across from the platform. I responded, “merci beaucoup” and headed on my way. I arrived at the Auber station approximately a half hour later. The total train ride was an hour long and most of it was above ground so I was able to see life just outside of the city.
As I ascended the train station, I dropped my jaw in awe. I
was in front of the Opera in all its grandeur and glory. And basically, across the
street was the Haussmann Galeries Lafayette. I immediately walked in and took
the escalator to the top as Jamie directed.
“Excuse my French but I’m in France.”
From there I could see all of Paris: the opera, the Eiffel Tower,
Notre Damn. I know I had a dopey grin from ear-to-ear. I did it. I made it to Paris.
I felt exhilarated and excited to explore.
Chandler smile
Have you heard of Flat Stanley? He’s a character in a
children’s book in which he is drawn on a piece of paper and then shipped all
over. The cool thing about him is that he’s included in photos with all these people
and places around the world. For this trip, I decided I was going to take on
that role, but instead be Digital Dara. Not one who normally likes photos, I
couldn’t help but take photos of all the lovely things and people I’d be
visiting.
As I descended the rooftop, I decided to explore this magnificent department store that held all the world’s designers….and honestly, was amazed. Next, I moved on to the Vendome. But first, I have to give a shout out to the architecture in Paris. I felt like I was in a fairy tale. I know I was in the posh, high street areas, but OMGee, the round arches, the wrought iron, the French blue found throughout that captured all of my being. The smartly dressed men: turtle necks, French mustaches and slim fit slacks and women: perfectly tailored, elaborate patterns and luxurious fabrics, they all caught my attention. Funny, the biggest trend I saw in both Paris and London: basic Levi’s logo tees, DKNY emblazed everything and Converse–the basics are big!
Walking through the streets when I would hear the law enforcement sirens go off, I was catapulted back into a chase scene that I recalled from the Bourne movie franchise and not so much in it but the sounds from it.
Next stop, Place Vendôme. Jamie mentioned this was a must stop because of the beauty of it. She was right! Based on what I read, this emblem of French luxury was built in 1686 by order of the French King Louis XIV. Now known for the most prestigious French haute couture brands and the finest jewelry houses, it is awe inspiring.
As I was walking through the Place Vendome, I was in awe of all that I saw. In that There was a fashion shoot happening on the path I walked as I made my way to the Louvre. The high end shops like Louis Vuitton caught my attention, but it was what I heard through my earbuds that made an even bigger impact that solidified that moment. MC Solar’s La Belle and the Bad Boy was playing and it was perfect to be hearing it in this moment in Paris.
If you are a fan of Sex and the City, then you may recall this song playing when Carrie realizes she has sacrificed her life for someone else’s. It was the start of something that had already been sitting in my head since Sunday night. I continued walking through this grand space soaking it all in and deeply pondering what was weighing on me but also wishing I was wearing a big tulle skirt and heels in lieu of khaki’s and converse. It was already 11:30am and I was debating going to the museum or grabbing a bite to eat. I opted for the former. I needed to feed my curiosity and love for art, more than my stomach.
After debating the length of the line, I finally took my spot at the end and entered the museum at about 12:15pm. I hit all the highlights as I didn’t have much time.
“Get your photo and move on”
Of course, I had to take a photo of Mona Lisa…but honestly, I loved all the murals I saw as I waited in the long ass line that made me feel like I was waiting for a ride at Disneyland. The attendants were instructing the patrons to hurry and take your photo and move on. Done.
Next, I walked through Jardin de Tuileries. It was very romantic and perfectly manicured. Parisians were sunbathing the warm sun and others were enjoying the early afternoon eating baguettes and brie from the food cart. Again, I opted not to stop to eat, but continued along the River Seine. It was not only the sights that kissed my senses but also what I scents I came across.
While NY has the scent of ambition: sweat, grit and cigarettes, I found Paris to me smelled of flowers and most specifically roses. Fall was also in the air. The trees were starting to turn and a cool breeze flowed through my hair. The weather was perfect in the upper 70s. And as I walked along the river, I realized without planning on it that I was at Pont des Art bridge. I didn’t realize it, first seeing a bike ride tour arriving at the same time, but as the stepped off their bikes to walk them across the tour guide pointed out the locks.
I continued walking and taking photos. I smiled seeing families walk by, friends in conversation, lovers embracing and couples purchasing locks from vendors to add their own to the bridge. I stopped to admire the incredible beauty of the river and architectural landscape around it. I realized how romantic Paris truly is and it made me think of the question Lucas posed a few nights before. It could have been fun experiencing this city with someone else, romantically or with a friend, but I believe I needed to experience it and fall in love with it on my own. I was in a relationship for approximately 24 years, and a fear of water prevented me from traveling abroad. Don’t get me wrong, I freely gave into that sacrifice, but I know now I won’t ever sacrifice experiencing life again. I want to be with someone that I can explore with, even with our human fears, because I know “we got each other”.
In that moment, I thought about that scene from SATC where Carrie realizes she gave up a dinner party in her honor to support her SO in his gallery opening only to be left sitting on a bench. That particularly struck me. If I do decide to go down the path of a relationship again, I want a partnership…someone who supports me as much as I support them. I don’t want someone who doesn’t understand what this path of fashion design means to me. It IS more than “a hobby”. It’s taken me places I’ve never been, challenged my creativity in ways that I never thought possible and connected me with people all over the world that understand what this means. I was told I’d never get anything out or anywhere with it. Yet, here I was in Paris three days before I was to show my designs to an international community (and this is only years into this path). And while, I’m not ready for a relationship in this moment in my life, but the right person doesn’t usually come to you when you are looking. So the meantime, I’d rather be solo and happy, than be with someone and be lonely. I walked on smiling.
My next stop was Norte Dame. I know it wasn’t open to the public, but I had to get a glimpse of it if I could and I did. A woman asked if I would take her photo with the building in the background. I did and in return, asked her if she would do the same. She obliged.
I could not visit Paris without going to my beloved fashion icon Coco Channel’s Rue Cambon, so I started back.
Yes, Paris you are my high!
I was so in awe and now wish I would have gone in but since I wasn’t shopping, I didn’t want shoed away for taking photos…so my outdoor selfie would suffice. It was getting close to 4pm. I still hadn’t stopped to eat and looking at Google Maps to Galleries Lafayette it looked like it was going to be a 45 minute walk, which was weird to me because I definitely thought I was close to where I started. I wanted to try and fit in a meal on the rooftop restaurant before I headed back on the train, so I opted for an Uber (I mean I had already covered 5 miles).
My driver picked me up and as we started, I realized that I hadn’t put in the full name of Haussmann Galleries Lafayette so instead I was really going to Galleries Lafayette. This wrong turn was completely worth it as I got a close-up view of the Eiffel Tower. I was dropped off in front of the gallery and started walking back, but then decided I really wanted to take an Uber back. I had a lively and great conversation with this next driver. He asked about my visit and about all the places I had visited. He talked about he economy and what’s happening right now. He easily understood English but couldn’t fully articulate a response so he would use a translator app…which I thought, “duh, I should have been using that throughout the day.” He dropped me outside the department store. I took the escalator up. The scene was much different that earlier in the morning. There was probably a dozen people when I was there earlier, but now the roof top was full and there was line for the restaurant. Knowing time was no longer on my side.
I opted for a restaurant across the street. I ordered a glass of champagne and croque madame, sat and thought about what a lovely day it was. I then headed back on the train to Charles de Gaulle. As I sat on the train, looking at posts back in America, it hit me again the significance of being here and when I returned to my flat that night, I posted the following:
As an American in Paris today, I saw posts and news briefs about 9/11 remembrance. However, life seemed to continue here un-phased. I took a moment to reflect on loss and life and how one of the key learnings for me are how important it is to tell people how much they matter to you, to live life to the fullest everyday, and to love your neighbor. Merci paris d’être si accueillant avec moi.
I arrived at the airport and had to use my train ticket to
enter, I tried several times and several times I was rejected. I thought I had
paid for a full day. I didn’t know what I was going to do as there were no
ticket purchasing stations. Then I noticed, at the corner of my eye there was a
turnstile that was open, I walked through like I owned the place and hoped I
wouldn’t be taken to a French jail cell. Later, I realized I had been trying to
use my receipt and not the ticket…definitely a Ms. Adventure moment. I received
another stamp as I went through customs/border control. I picked up some macrons,
French wine and chocolate before boarding my flight. I arrived in London about
10pm and back at my flat about 11pm fully sated from a soul-filling day. I am
so proud that I didn’t give in to my fears and experienced this day.
Change of the Guard, Jewels & Unexpected Foodie Festivals – Thursday, September 12
1995 called and they said, “Girl, Rock IT!” I had to pimp Macy’s while I was traveling.
I totally slept in. Getting up finally around 11am and jumping into the shower. I thought I’d explore nearby when I realized London Tower was a tube stop away, so fumbling through directions to get there I arrived about noon. Purchased my ticket and stepped through history. I love the ego and dysfunction of the Tudor Dynasty and was so happy to gleam more knowledge about it here. I also had to take photos of the ravens to send to Meri, my friend and partner in crime in the Raven dress. It was an incredible journey back in time. The opulence of the monarchy, the treachery, or perceived treachery and the rich history of London was found within the high walls.
They say if the Ravens ever leave London Tower will fall.
It was fun to see tourist, locals and students alike enjoying the beautiful day. I spent a few hours learning about the prisoners, the jewels, the arsenal, the Beefeaters, and the animals found at this historic spot. After a few hours, I decided to walk the tower bridge. It was so cool and gave me that same feeling I had walking the Brooklyn Bridge total touristy, post card moment. When I returned, I stopped by a bistro that faced the River Thames. I had a glass of Rose and figured my next move. I thought maybe heading back to my neighborhood to try another suggestion from KS’s list, but as I walked around the moat, I realized the Foodie Festival I had read about happening over the weekend was actually doing a preview night. I purchased my ticket and decided to try it out.
I’m soooooo glad I did. I had been wanting Indian all day and you know you’re in the right place when the woman in front of you in line takes a bite of her Samosa and let’s out an Oh My GAWD!!! I was sold and it was deliciously satisfying. I went on and sampled some lovely gin, champagne, cheese, salsa beets and so much more. I think I dropped £50 on food and bottles of gin and whiskey on top of the Elderflower wine and ale I had bought from the London Tower gift shop. I headed back to my flat and opened that bottle Elderflower wine as I went back and forth with the producers from the show about last minute details.
Tourist Booty
Running, Prayers, and Getting Banned from Instagram – Friday, September 13
Decided to give London an intro to Hopeless + Cause Atelier. A moment at Pause…I don’t know if you can see on my keys, a Diamond Fist from Street Safe NM (just extra protection). This art was two garage doors down from my flat…seriously, could I have a better reminder that she is with me (that and all the 11:11s)
Friday, September 13 was very much a Friday the 13th. I got up super early and decided to go for a run around my neighborhood which was kind of fab. The air was cooler and a little heavy. I stumbled upon this coffee shop called Pause and in that moment, I figured I should. It was going to be a busy day filled with last minute details for the show on Saturday. The biggest detail was finding models. I had tried unsuccessfully back home to recruit with no luck. So I reached out the production company, to see if they had any luck. They responded with a big fat “NO” and suggested that I try social media. I did just that.
The funny thing about London. I had changed my service for
international service (didn’t know about changing my SIM card until it the day
before I was leaving). My wireless service was spotty and in some places out right
awful even in wifi areas like my flat, so I set up a work space in the
kitchenette and started connecting with models. I posted on Facebook to see if
friends and family knew anyone. Then using the hash tags #londonmodel and
#londonmodels started sending direct messages and emails to women who would fit
my looks. If I had my line up when I was creating I wouldn’t have had a problem
with creating for all sizes, but for this go it was 2-4 and maybe a 6-8 in some
of the flowy looks. My note said this:
Hi! If you’re in London, would you be interested in walking in a runway show tomorrow, Saturday, September 14 at 15:30? Let me know and I’ll send more details.
Londoners are super professional, polite and proper. I
received message after message from the women I reached out to. Most of them were
already modeling at that time, some were out of town and some asked for more
information. None were confirmed yet and then I got this.
What the fuck Instagram? I’m only doing what your platform is intended for. So I moved on to adding that text directly to a photo in their feed. I was so frustrated I went for a walk. I was happily wearing my cute and flowy Free People dress. I figured some fresh air would be good for me, plus I was hunting down a pen because I got tired of writing notes on my mini iPad. At the convenience store, the pens were £7…I opted to bypass that. Then the breeze started picking up. My cute flouncy dress started having its own Marilyn Monroe moment, so I figured that was my reminder to get back to work.
As I was working, I heard the chanting of prayers and bells. It was then that I realized that I was smack dab in the middle of a Muslim neighborhood and that was really cool to me! I continued going back and forth with potential models. Some looking for payment and countered explaining that I was an emerging designer and they would receive photos and video from the show. I also explained that I am working with Elle UK and I am planning to use the after show photo shoot for the next feature.
By 11pm and after a bottle of wine, a bag of wasabi peas (my
crack), three macrons and a chunk of cheese, I had 9 beautiful models lined up
for the next day. One was actually flying in from New York and would be
arriving about 8am and taking the train to the location. Hallelujah! I went to
bed and crashed big time.
SQUIRREL MOMENT: Have you ever thought about your “up to bat” song? I had a conversation about this a few years ago and it was Applause by Lady Gaga. I heard it tonight and it still is. OKAY BACK TO READING
Kicking Ass, Model Moms (BLECH) and $60 Uber Rides – Saturday, September 14
I woke at 6am. My body was so off this entire trip, but if I recall correctly, I slept throughout the night. I got up went for a run and tried to go back to my coffee shop to find out it was closed on Saturday, so I ran to a Pret and got a drip coffee and croissant (not as good as the ones at Pause). I got back to the flat, did yoga, drank my coffee, ate my croissant and jumped into the shower before the other kids needed it.
I got dressed in my work out gear as I normally do, if I’m not wearing my overalls and put out the looks pairing them to the right model.
Feeling so blessed from the messages I received from close by and afar. Thank you for the support and good juju!!
My music was set (thanks Isaiah).
My make up and hair was set with the theme of my show. At 11am, I opted to get an Uber and head over to the venue. The hair and make up call time was 12:30pm but I wanted to make sure I was there in plenty of time to greet the models as they arrived. I arrived at AMP Studios approximately 30 minutes later. There was a non-descript gate with a small sign that said, “AMP Studios”. London is very reserved in announcing locations. I walked up to the gate and a man, like the wizard behind the screen, said no one could enter until 12:30pm. Hui, my model from the US, arrived about 10 minutes later after walking a few blocks to get there (the things we do for fashion). As I was standing there I started talking to another designer, accessories and handbags. He talked about the shows he’s done and the shops his work is included in.
At 12:30pm, the gates opened and we made our way in. I grabbed a table and opened up my garment bag to pull out the looks in order to have the models try them on. Model after model started coming in. I’d send them into the ONE bathroom to try on their outfit, then over to either hair or make up. I started steaming the clothing and realized how much stronger the electricity is in the UK than the US even with my compatible charger—a pop and spark and I was done steaming clothes. Thank God the spark didn’t start a fire. We shared the small space with another mens/womens designer and two children’s designers. I hate showing with children’s line designers. It not the designers and for the most part not the kids, it’s the parents. Dads that stick around…I’m sorry you’re creepy. There is no reason you need to be backstage. Mom’s think they need to be there to take photos and give their expert advice. Go take your seat and take photos from the runway as everyone else does. Okay off my soap box.
I tried to post photos and video but the service was HORRIBLE in this location, a total dead zone that zapped my battery, so I took photos held on to them. There were nine designers in this show and Hopeless + Cause Atelier was number 5. The show was supposed to begin at 3:30pm. It was 3pm and I still had 4 of my models needing make up, so every open seat I filled it with one of my models. At 3:30pm, I still one model in the make up chair and she still had to get dressed. I told her and the make up artist to finish what they were doing because I needed to get her in the lineup. My show started with the first 48 seconds of Red Light Cameras Fire…you know the part with clapping and Amanda humming “who who who who whooooo”. That fed into Elevate My Mind by Stereo MCs and Hui hit the runway. The runway was a box shape and it was an outdoor venue. Even though we talked about pace and where to stop along the way, I know nerves and the beat of the music kicks in and the models walk faster than I wish they would, so I constantly reminded them of that. Carolina, my model in the MUA chair came running in and put on her outfit. I fit it to her and made sure it was on right as she joined in the group.
Incredibly grateful to Carolina Perez, Proscovia, Abbi Haynes, Isioma, Aleksandra Baranova, Christina Heimeyer, Hui Ying, Laeticia, & Michaela (not pictured)
As I say every time, all the preparation and work takes months and the show is over in minutes. After we did the final catwalk, we went to the back and I got some behind the scenes photos. After the show ended, we were supposed to go near the River Thames for a photo shoot but that was a 20-minute drive and I wasn’t up for it so I asked for the producer to do the shoot on-site. I loved the urban garden feel of the venue: the red and white brick, wooden pillars, barbed wire, graffiti and greens was my perfect back drop. So they obliged and they took photos of the group. Sadly, I haven’t received them yet. AND WHAT I LOVED EVEN MORE, is that these women connected and are collaborating on projections outside of this event.
I started cleaning up. While talking with one of the models, Alex, she was talking about her interest in fashion and design from an artistic perspective and how it shapes the body. She was telling me about a gallery event at the university in which she was showing her work. I realized the university was a block away from me and if it was open tomorrow, I’d love to stop by and check it out. It was and we talked about a time I would meet her there. Everyone started to leave and I called for my Uber.
Ten minutes later it arrived. The driver was talkative, and we started to head back. It was a shared lift and I was quoted 8 GBP. However, as we were on our way to get the next person the driver complained of having connection issues with his Uber app. We drove around in circles for a bit and then he canceled the other ride. He asked me to try to connect to Google Maps and give him instructions. I thought that was quite odd but understood the connection issues as they were spotty for me. My 20-minute drive turned into 45 minutes and in the end Uber wanted to charge me what would be $60. Yeah, that wasn’t happening, so I challenged the charge.
I was feeling quite satisfied with my bad self but was exhausted from all the burnt adrenaline. I decided to walk down the street to the neighborhood Greek restaurant. It was a beautiful but cool evening, so I opted for spanakopita and Avgolemono soup with a glass of Greek white wine—OPA! It replenished me. I went walking around for a bit before heading back to the room and turning on the telly for some good ole British tv, lol, it was Lord of the Rings!
Mini Me’s, Incredible Music and Public Bathrooms – Sunday, September 15
I totally slept in. I got up and ready about 10am and headed out for coffee at Costa. This morning I just wanted a drip coffee with cream. I took a seat in the corner and began to plan my day, when, as the Ms. Congeniality that I am, hit my coffee cup and coffee was everywhere (if I wasn’t so awkward, I’d have no stories to tell). I went to ask the staff for a mop to clean up after myself, when the young man said he would do it. I felt SO bad. The duo that was working was so kind and understanding that I’m a big klutz, the woman even made me a new cup. At about 10:45am I headed over to the gallery to see Alex’s work.
Art by Aleksandra Baranova IG: @ab_alexbaranova and Hugh Hamshaw Thomas IG: @hughhamshawthomas
I arrived but she was still on her way. I admired all the artists’ work reading their hypotheses and the process. There was one artist present, Hugh. He worked in the digital medium creating tapestry looking art digitally. It was beautiful. He asked about me and I explained that I had just met Alex the day before but was intrigued by her work and loved supporting other artists. I explained why I was in London. He talked about going to Boston in the fall for a commissioned piece. We exchanged Instagram accounts and I thanked him for his time. Due to time constraints and all I wanted to do in the day, I headed out before Alex made it in.
I jumped on the train to Picadilly Circus. Along the way, a little girl and, what I believe was, her father got on. They sat right across from me. She was adorable with big brown curls, bigger brown eyes and light caramel-y skin. It was kind of like looking back in time at a mirror. When I looked over at her, I noticed her mimicking body language as I sat. I smiled and changed the way I sat, with my legs and arms crossed just to see if she would follow. She did so I laughed and waved at her. She was serious at first and then half waved back. Her dad smiled, laughed and told her to say, “hello”. Kind of stubborn like me she refused. I arrived at my stop, I said goodbye and wished them a good day. She said goodbye and I smiled.
As I surfaced, I was greeted by music from an incredible solo artist. She was doing covers of many of my favorite songs. I stayed for a while and drained my purse of all my coins as a tip. I could have stayed there for this street concert, but I had places to go and areas to explore.
I headed toward Buckingham Palace first, but was stopped by a sandwich board touting fish and chips. That was one of the last remaining “must” eats while I was in town, so I walked down this posh cobble stone streets with high end shops. I was definitely in a high street of London, or Westminster to be exact. I grabbed a seat at the bar and ordered a gin and tonic and the fish and chips. It was deliciously greasy, and I covered it in malt vinegar. It was magical. I was satisfied and head back on my path.
Walking through the lush Green Park, there was no missing
Buckingham Palace, it was larger than life, grandiose and elegant. I loved all
of it, oh and that the fountain had mermaids (I mean duh!). They were sculpted
in it not swimming in it. The sun was high and bright. It was a glorious day in
London.
Next, I headed over to Westminster Abbey. And if I had been paying attention to the schedule of shows I would have seen that Victoria Beckham was showing at the Victorian and Albert museum. I mean I totally could have seen David.
Instead, I saw an official car heading that way. DAMN! The Abbey was closed so I went into St. Margaret’s Church. There was no picture taking inside but vast history of the church and its patrons. In ways, because of its history and the notes left by patrons, it reminded me of the church in Chimayo, NM.
I wanted to see Big Ben and the Eye of London so I headed that direction next. On my way I stumbled upon another street musician, this time playing the bagpipes. OMGeee I love this city! Sadly, I had given away all my change. I continued on and walked past Big Ben…oh yeah, because it was under construction. I tried to get a photo of the clock’s face but with all the scaffolding around it, the photo didn’t do it justice. The London Eye was across the bridge but after finding out tickets were £27, the walk, and the wait, I opted to admire it from afar.
I wanted to see how far Piccadilly Circus was from where I
was, so I started to head back when I noticed flowers around a monument. It was
a monument dedicated to the Battle of Britain. I got chills as I read the inscription
and that the date was September 15, 1940—79 years later I am standing at the
spot near where this battle took place. It reminded me of the stories about my
grandfather and his parachuting into Europe in WWII as a sergeant in the US Army.
I had a moment of reflection and moved on. I got back to Piccadilly Circus and
realized why am I taking the tube when I can be taking a ferry ride back to London
Tower. I turned around and went back.
I notice everything and no, I did not stage this.
I sat in a nearby park for a minute just to cool down. I watched a guerrilla photo shoot, couples and families all enjoying the summer sun. Then once I felt re-energized, I headed over to purchase my ticket for the ferry. The next one was leaving in 10 minutes so as I stood on the dock, I felt this gut-wrenching pain in my stomach, like it was being tied into knots. I thought I was going to pass out and of course there wasn’t a restroom on the dock, so I left but where would I go, to the new Scotland Yard? I was passing people on my left and my right and thought I was going to die there (my body finally rejected all the carbs). There were no restaurants near by and then I saw it, a sign for a public bathroom. I really wanted to die in that moment. As I walked down the stairs, I could smell the urine stained walls and thought oh great why can’t this feeling subside. I walked into a pretty clean facility, but I realized why people urinated on the outside. You had to pay to go through the turnstile. I had already given all my change to the street performer. I couldn’t wait. I looked around and ran under the turnstile and into a vestibule. Thank God I made it. I emerged a little while later and headed back to the ferry. Once on board the cool air, helped calm me (I know TMI…but sometimes you’ve got to be real and this really sucked).
We started our trek back and the captain pointed out highlights along the way including St. Paul’s Cathedral, Waterloo Bridge (which was built by women during WWII) and a boat with the sail made of children’s art. As we reached London Tower Bridge, I noticed the sun was starting to set approaching it, the bridge was vibrant and as we passed it, a shadow was cast on it. There were two different views within minutes. I deboarded the ship and decided to head back to my neighborhood. There was a pub on the corner that I wanted to check out, Culpepper’s. It had a rooftop bar and I wanted to soak up this summer day as much as possible.
I arrived and put my name on the list for a table on the roof. About 15-20 minutes later, I got a text that my table was ready. I climbed the four flights of stairs (honestly, there aren’t many lifts aka elevators in London). The first floor is this all wood old bar, the second the restaurant, the hotel-like rooms, and then the fourth, the rooftop. I sat at the table and was given the cocktail menu. I sat right next to the lavender and rosemary bushes the air was aromatic and lovely. I ordered the grapefruit sling and asked about a food menu only to find out that they stopped serving dinner at 6pm. I definitely only had one drink or I’d be falling down the stairs without something to eat. I went back to my recommended list of restaurants to find out that they were all closed, so I went online to find something nearby, it was going to be Italian again and I made a reservation for 8:45pm. I walked over the restaurant, which was filled wall to wall with patrons, so that was a good sign. I sat at the bar and ordered a salad, a glass of wine and pasta. After dinner I walked back to my flat and repacked my bags. I couldn’t believe I was leaving. I had such an incredible time. I also came to the realization that as NYC smells of ambition and Paris smells of romance, London smelled of cologne—musky, earthy scents like bergamot—a little regality and history are what came to my senses. I think these scents also helped to shape my travels.
Last night of reflection, gratitude and celebration for an incredible trip.
Getting Lost, 30 Hours with SJP, Godzilla & Karaoke – Monday, September
16
A friend and colleague was going into breast cancer surgery back in California on the 16th so I wanted her to know I was sending light, love and healing energy. FIGHT LIKE A GIRL, M!
I woke the next morning at 7am and again went for a run and my token cappuccino and croissant at Pause. I realized it was the only time it really drizzled while I was there and I thought, “I know I’m sad I’m leaving too.” I took a moment to pause and feel overwhelmed with gratitude for this journey. I did everything I planned to do while I was here (well, with the exception of seeing a Manchester United game…they were playing the same time of my show, but definitely next time). Who knew 6 years ago, when I was laid off from Cardinal Health, that I would be showing in my designs during London Fashion Week. Let me say it again…I showed my designs in London Fashion Week. People tell me all the time that I’m brave (maybe they think I’m stupid) for following this dream. It’s no longer a childhood dream. I believe we all have the power to accomplish what want to do, but many times we’re our own obstacle or we listen to people who don’t understand the meaning of life is to live it to the fullest every day. Creating fashion became my passion, so I set goals around it to make it work for me. With hard work and such incredible support, I’ve made it my reality. If I could travel the world creating designs on the fashion stage and write about it while meeting the most intriguing people, then I have lived a full life. And I’m already working on setting the plans in motion for Paris Fashion Week.
Seeing the time, I headed back to my flat. Took a shower and mapped out my train path to Heathrow. It would cost £45 and take an hour via Uber. It only cost ~£10 and would take the same amount of time via the train system. I opted for the later and headed to Aldgate East. I realized that my garment bag (the one I was checking for the flight) was about 10 lbs heavier than when I brought to London. Climbing up and down stairs, I knew I was going to get a workout. I was traveling during peak traffic time, so I hopped on a train, but when I didn’t see the location I was supposed to be going to I realized I was on the wrong one. UGH! I got of at the next station and my connectivity was gone. Double UGH! I asked an attendant to for help and she directed me to the route I should take. I tried to get on the next train, but it was filled to capacity and me and my bags would not fit. I got on the next one, and road it until I reached the station I needed to get off at. Then I looked for the connecting train, I was directed by another attendant to the platform on the other end of the station, up and down probably four flights of stairs into the belly of the train station I finally reached my platform. I was sweating profusely and the arm strap from my bag was digging into my shoulder. I’m sure I looked a mess, but I didn’t care as long as I got where I needed to be. My cell service, of course, did not work.
After all the running, climbing, and sweating, this still made me laugh and I wanted to scream, “Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!”
I boarded the train and felt comforted that I was going in the right direction. My destination was 19 stops away and approximately 45 minutes. However, as we got closer, I realized this train’s final destination was four stops away from the airport. I said an Our Father and Hail, Mary that I didn’t miss my flight. The train stopped at its last stop and I moved to the other track to get the next train heading to Heathrow.
My flight was scheduled for 11:50am. It was 10:40am when I
boarded that train. It was 11:03am when I tried to drop my bag. I also paid a hefty
fee to check my second bag because I knew I was going to have to run through
the airport. I received notice that I required special assistance. I went to
the attendant and she informed me that the boarding process closes an hour
before the flight, but she was going to do what she could to make sure they
were on the flight. She took me over to the cashier to pay for my second
checked bag. She gave me instructions on how to get through security swiftly. I
began to run. I got to security and explained my situation. The attendant told
me I should be fine that the gate I was going to was right near the security exit,
so I got in line and what seemed like forever, I got through security. Ran what
seemed like the length of a football pitch up to my gate. The agent checked me
in and I boarded the plane.
Relieved that I made it. I took a deep breath said another prayer and thank God for everything. I settled into my seat and cocktail hour began. I opted for a glass of wine and watched movies. My adrenaline was through the roof and I couldn’t sleep. In the seven hours, I watched Isn’t it Romantic, Hustlers, Rocketman and Dumbo. Since I never made it to high tea, I was happy that they provided Mile High Tea in a box. It was quite lovely.
When I landed, I had a message from Lucas stating that he knew I’d be landing soon and that I’d have the apartment to myself for a couple of hours. I responded when I landed. He welcomed me back and asked how I was feeling. I was feeling great but I did want to take a shower and freshen up. He asked if I was still up for going to his latest creation, Bar Wayo. I told him I totally was if he was. We agreed to check it out.
I got to the apartment about 3:30pm. The skies were over-cast and it was a little cooler than the week before. I climbed the stairs with my bags, my muscles remembered the weight and I felt like I had gumby arms. When I got inside, I drank a huge glass of water and did some yoga stretches. After, I climbed into the shower and the water felt so good on my skin. I took my time just standing under the water as it cascaded and caressed my aching muscles. I put my music on and started repacking my bags. My flight was at 7am in the morning and I knew I wouldn’t have time later to do it.
He arrived back at the apartment about 7pm, after getting his insight on the dress code for the bar, I changed, and we headed out shortly thereafter. We took the subway to the Brooklyn Bridge. I told him about my Ms. Adventure that morning and how I almost missed my flight. I also told him during this trip, I had my epiphany on why I don’t like underground trains—my lack of direction, cell phone connectivity issues and confusing signs. We got off at our stop and we walked toward Pier 17. He talked about the history of the neighborhood and it being the foundation for the gangs of New York. I was taking it all in. It was great feeling the vibrancy of the city again.
We reached our destination and he talked about the neighbors of the bar: an iPic Movie Cinema, the other restaurants and bars and then we came across a Sarah Jessica Parker shoe store. I had to take a photo for Lynella. I told him to get in it and the character that he is, he did. We arrived at the bar and the crowd was light it was still early and in fact this was the first Monday that they were open. The decision was made to coincide with Monday Night Football. As we walked in, everyone stopped what they were doing to say “hello”. I was with the mayor and this was his town. He introduced me to the group and we took a seat at the bar. Known for his craft cocktail creations, he asked what I wanted. I said a spicy margarita. He glared at me. I said I was only kidding. Had he already forgotten about our conversation about margaritas and how every bar has to have a margarita on the menu?!? I said I couldn’t believe they had them on the menu in London pubs. I told him it was on him to order. So we started a full tasting of the cocktail menu and the ad hoc butcher block, bartender’s choice menu.
We did order food, starting with Curry Donut. This savory treat was a play on the jelly donut. The size of a small plate, this donut is coated in some curry powder and coconut with a soft dough interior and filled with a tomato-based yumminess. It’s cut in fourths, tableside. We each had one piece but then it was discovered that it wasn’t cooked properly so it was taken away not to be seen again or a replacement. What the what? Next, we had the clam chowder. I know my eyes rolled to the back of my head with my first bite. The clam and bacon base made for a heavenly broth. I couldn’t get enough and really tried not to eat all the bite-sized potatoes. The Beef Tartare and Onion Rings came out next. It wasn’t your typical shaved beef. It was a filling tied together with pinon, add the Shiso leaf and wrap with seaweed, you’d create your own wraps or in my case, Lucas would do it for me. The leaf was very earthy and fresh smelling. It reminded me so much of the air from the Mora Valley in NM, refreshing and green. Finally, we shared onion rings. The onion rings were meant for dipping in the ranch and trout row. The burst of flavor was outstanding.
So I may have had a drink…what was I doing?!?
However, our drink game was strong. I tried to pace myself and remember I had been up for a while, but the drinks were enticing, and I wanted to try his creations. I just asked to stay away from the sweet ones. We tried the Kappa, South Street Sling, Kaiju Crush, Bonji Old Fashion, the Bellini and the other two peach drinks but I can’t remember what they are at the moment.
We had a lively conversation that went back and forth between growing up, what was happening with the restaurant and our idea to have a swanky sweater soiree in NM. And it’s an entire bar conversation. His team was full of personality and it made for a fun and lively evening. During the course of our conversation, a man walked in saying he won $200 in pool and was buying everyone a round of shots…tequila to be exact. Yikes! We drank it and then he said that he was going to pay for everyone’s tab. I looked at Lucas and then looked at him thinking your $200 probably won’t cover our drinks tonight. We Facetimed Lynella, and I’m sure my eyes were glazed over. I don’t recall how it came up, but he had been talking about taking me to Karaoke the past couple of times I visited. I always look at him with a scared face, so tonight I asked him if he ever saw MyBest Friend’s Wedding with Julia Roberts. He responded that he loved Julia Roberts. I countered saying I was Cameron Diaz’s character the one that sings totally off key.
Some how or another he convinced me to do it. And the stranger that came in claiming to pay our tab, actually did. However, I didn’t have cash (or enough to leave a tip), so I ordered another round of drinks and left the tip on there. I absolutely adore Lucas. He challenges me in ways that I look at him and want to say, “what the hell”. I believe he does this because he knows I want more, but he also knows my introvert tendencies to not push forward. Friends like that are keepers. He had been pushing me to sing Shallow and at first, my naivete, was like okay. Then I realized, oh hell no. Lady Gaga has the major part of the song and a range…I have neither. I tried to convince him to sing Dancing with a Stranger because of Normani’s lower tone is something I could possibly handle and the song was shorter in length. He said he couldn’t do Sam Smith’s part. I looked a him and asked how times has he sang Karaoke and that I wasn’t buying it. We laughed. We sang. He told me stories about the patrons and the bar owners.
The next time I looked at the clock, it was 4:52am, and my
flight was in roughly two hours. I had been up for approximately 30 hours. I
was easily convinced to change my flight to that afternoon and then climbed
into bed.
Lessons Learned, Feast of San Gennaro and Running Through Airports AGAIN – Tuesday, September 17
I woke about 9:30am in such a lovely way, refreshed after only a few hours of sleep. I got up and after Lucas left to work, jumped into the shower. I decided since I had the time that I would wash my sheets and towel since he was so gracious to offer his home to me. I headed out to my bank to get change, next, to Starbucks for coffee and finally to the laundry mat. Holy crap–how do people afford to wash clothes in NYC? The small load I did cost approximately $5.00.
I love getting lost in this city.
As I put the items in the dryer, I decided to explore the neighborhood. Walking around Bowery, I was loving on all the street art and as I always do, took photos of it. I then stumbled upon the festival for the Feast of San Gennaro in Little Italy. I had read about it but all the information I read stated that it didn’t start until Thursday, lucky me.
I perused all the vendors and found this cute NYC skyline necklace for $20, I had to have one. It looked like it was going to be a blast, but based on how busy it already was, it also looked like it was going to be crowded so I was happy to get a sneak peek. I headed back to the laundry mat, pulled my delicates from the dryer (lol just textiles) and headed back to his apartment. It was 1pm and I figured I’d make the bed, change into what I was wearing on the plane, wash the dishes and call a Lyft. That the Lyft arrived about 1:30pm. On my way to the airport, I looked at my boarding pass and realized. My flight wasn’t at 3:30pm as I had convinced myself it was. It was at 3:05pm but had been pushed out to 3:15pm. I was scheduled to arrive at LGA at 2:15pm. “Okay, that’s not bad”, I thought. I was dropped off and did the sky check so I didn’t have to deal with the lines inside. The attendant had issues with his printer, so it took longer than I had hoped. When I got to the security line, the digital sign said average wait time 20 minutes, again I felt good about getting through and on time.
again…
What I realized is that the time on the sign was probably meant for when you got to that point where the sign was. It was the slowest moving line I had ever been through. When I finally got through security, it was 3:09pm so I ran for my gate. Luckily, it wasn’t far and my boarding group had just lined up. The flight had been pushed out again to 3:25pm. I got on the plane and again praised God for this intervention. I arrived in Dallas approximately 3 hours later and had a 2-hour layover. It gave me the opportunity to really think about what an incredible experience this was. Everything about it was pushing me into new territory, new uncomfortable zones, and each time I rose to the challenge and got what I wanted out of it (even in moments when I thought the spoils were going to someone else).
Good-bye for now (tear, tear, sob, sob)
I’m just going to say this, “I LOVED MY EUROPEAN MS. ADVENTURE.” I wish I was independently wealthy. I would travel throughout the world, but not the posh parts. I want to be where the people are. The realness. The genuineness. The humanness and the beauty that is found in exploring new places. It has the same draw to me that New York does. I know it’s not seen through rose color glasses but of the humanity that each person brings or takes away and that’s why it calls to me so. And nah, sis, I don’t wish I was independently wealthy. I don’t think I’d appreciate it the same way if someone paid for it for me vs. me working my fucking ass off to get there and my beloved believing in me and wanting it as much as me, so much that they have gracefully supported me (I in return have grateful and gracefully appreciated it).
What this trip reemphasized for me is that we are mortal. Life is finite. It’s not YOLO—you only live once. It’s YODO—you only die once. You live every day. I don’t take that for granted. I give love with my whole being. I tell people how I feel and if they can’t handle it or don’t know how to respond, I run; they are not my people. I don’t have time for half ass lives. I only want people who can deal with my crazy, emotion-filled, cancer-being (crabby-emotional, not environmental killer version). I smile from ear-to-ear, I laugh with laughter that can be heard across the room. I will sit with you and cry and hug you when I feel that you are in the place that needs that response. I am human. I fuck up. I learn. I grow and I only want people in my life that are authentic and understand and own that. This trip taught me that AND so much more. It taught me the sacredness of enjoying being with yourself and loving yourself. It’s my crazy, beautiful life. You’ve got yours. Own it. Live it. I’ve already got plans in motion for my next adventure and whether it’s solo or with someone, I can’t wait (but I’m telling you there are European beaches involved and they may or may not be topless).
With light and love,
Dara Sophia (and yes, Lucas people do like hearing other people say their names but only if it’s pronounced correctly)
Warning: this blog is about booty, boobs and lady parts….beautiful bodies, a sense of self and humor, and phenomenal women.
July 26, 2018 <entry> – I stopped by the post office on my way home today to check my PO Box to see if the item I had been coveting since I was told it was hitting the newsstand (20 days ago to be specific–I have no patience) had arrived. It did. As I ripped open the plastic shipping cover, I stood over the waste station and slowly opened the August issue of British Vogue, scanning the pages for my small but poignant feature. I stood there screaming on the inside because I knew I’d freak people out if I started screaming like a yahoo in the post office. I shook as I took a video opening the magazine. This was it, fo’shizzle!! I could open the glossy pages of “the fashion Bible” finally right there in front of me. Even though, I had seen the digital photos of the cover and layout, it didn’t hit me until I able to put my hands on it (what a doubting Thomas, right?!?).
I went home and absorbed it page by page. I now know what Carrie Bradshaw meant when she said, “When I first moved to New York and I was totally broke, sometimes I would buy Vogue instead of dinner. I felt it fed me more.” Like a little kid looking at a Christmas catalog, I kept my finger between pages 176 and 177, and would flip back and forth as I scanned through the other pages. I know this is going to sound unbelievable for me, but my eyes filled with tears. Here it was right in front of me! And in that moment, it took me back to a text message I had received the day after the Ethics in Business dinner a few months ago. The text said this: “I have to tell you I really respect Jennifer for sticking by you. You deserve it.” And boy, did she–so this is how I could honor her! Seeing my first creation on my first customer and model reminded me how far I had come. Having the confidence to say, “YES” to British Vogue and to show I’ve worked hard and I deserve this! What made it even sweeter, seeing such a powerful woman on the cover and Oprah Winfrey’s interview. It was even more empowering. Even though, she was abused as a child and a teenage mother, she didn’t grow up thinking, “why me”. She didn’t consider race and being a brown skinned girl as an impairment. She didn’t let sexism or misogyny muddy her thoughts. According to Oprah, she knew that she was a child of God and that her lifelong belief was that success was part of God’s plan. Understanding your power to overcome difficulties and being comfortable in your own skin–there is nothing more beautiful!
…Confidence
A few years ago, I was pursuing the men’s sock collection at Urban Outfitters. Funky and fun socks were all the rage and I was looking for the right pair to wear to a kickball tournament (that year I was on an uber competitive team and should have looked for a pair that had human growth hormone sewn into them), when I stumbled upon a pair of bright pink ones with a design of a woman hanging off a pole. I know there are some of you reading this thinking how disgraceful or how detrimental that is to women. As a woman, I pulled them off the rack and bought them immediately.
“I don’t think you ready for this
‘Cause my body too bootylicious for yo babe” – Destiny’s Child, Bootylicious
Since I was 12 years old and started down the path to the curvaceous goddess that I am today (a year before I had short hair and a family friend asked my brother who his friend was), I’ve dealt with body image issues as many young girls have. I remember returning to school that year and a classmate made a comment about my butt. At the time, I wanted to die and throughout the rest of my school years, even though I loved fashion, I often tried to minimize my “assets”. There were times that I dabbled in bulimia and over exercise to try to get that “perfect” body. Yet, I’d always get unwelcome attention as I walked by. Once walking through the mall, I had a gaggle of boys behind me and the comment of “baby got back” was sung out in my presence. I immediately popped into a store. As an adult woman, I’ve dealt with having to correct men who weren’t looking at me in the eyes as they talked to me or felt that they enjoyed my derriere so much that they had to reach out and touch it. These weren’t the “cat callers” on the streets or strangers in a crowded place. These were men I knew. Was it a sense of entitlement or power? I had the confidence to call them out on it. I also finally realized how I could dress to feel comfortable, confident and beautiful and stop hiding behind my clothing.
So why then did I purchase those socks? They had a more profound meaning to me. Have you ever watched a pole dancer? They own their sh*t. I’ve watched in awe because they are extremely fit, very coordinated (I know being Miss Congeniality myself, I’d land on my head) and they own their body and the room. I wear the socks anytime I have an important event and remind myself of that…speaking to a room of 2,000+ people, stepping out onto the runway or going into an important interview. They are the perfect reminder to go out there and kick some heinie and own who you are.
“I
I feel good
I walk alone
But then I trip over myself and I fall, I
I stand up
And then I’m OK
But then you print some shit that makes me want to scream” – Lady Gaga, Do What U Want
I thought…why as women can’t we own our body and our sexuality? Shouldn’t we embrace our curves or lack of, love our skin, hair and eye color and be happy with who we are?
“Never insecure until I met you
Now I’m bein’ stupid
I used to be so cute to me
Just a little bit skinny
Why do I look to all these things
To keep you happy
Maybe get rid of you and then I’ll get back to me (hey)” – TLC, Unpretty
<It’s incredible, and sad, how many women sing about body image> I then recalled two recent events that really drove this home. I’ll start with the one that was in the headlines…one that was targeted retaliation for a woman who stood up to the man who tried to silence his infidelity and position of power.
I really try not to watch or listen to the news. However on my way to work last week, the morning radio show talked about the headline related to Stormy Daniels and it caught my attention. For those unfamiliar with Stormy Daniels (legal name Stephanie Clifford), she is the woman that allegedly had an affair with Trump and is currently suing him. She was appearing at an Ohio strip club and was arrested that evening because “Under an Ohio law passed in 2007, an employee who regularly appears nude or seminude at a sexually oriented business is prohibited from touching patrons, except for family members.” This, according to the CNN report. What I found to be interesting is that there just happened to be undercover cops the same evening that she was performing and according to her attorney, it was the same performance she had been doing all over the country. A woman who wouldn’t stand down with trumped up charges, things that make you go hmm…
Photography: Nia Rose Photography; Models: Shelby, Elise, Amber, Bre, Hunter and Noelle; MUAH: Candis Ashley Artistry and Caro Benitez
When I started designing, I wanted to create for women of all sizes and thank God, my customers are. Yet, the first show for FWLA (Fashion Week Los Angeles), I was given the universal measurements of their models to design for: 5’8” and 32” x 25” x 34”. I came back to New Mexico thinking, “I can find those body measurements, but they will be on a 5’2” model. When I went back to LA, a few of the models I had met the day before the show were turned away because they were shorter than 5’8″ even though they were incredibly beautiful and “met” all the other measurements. WTF, right?!?
My shows locally utilized models of different shapes, sizes and ages, but it wasn’t until I showed in the fashion center of the world, NYC during NYFW, that I was able highlight all the beautiful variations of women. Some of them include: Jamie, who has been my fashion week partner-in-fashion since 2014, New Mexico’s go to for lifestyle, fashion and beauty advice, AND is the It Girl, who happens to be in her early fifties (AND by the way, killing it). Jimmie, who has put MS in remission through fitness and is not only an engineer, but also an actor, fitness model, local magazine correspondent and runway model. Shelby, one of my youngest models at 5’6” (not “traditionally” tall enough to walk the runway in NYFW), who is also so incredibly thoughtful and wrote me before each show telling me how grateful she was to be able to walk the runway (PS her cards are on my inspiration wall. I adore her. She is one of the most humble, hardworking and grateful women in the industry that I’ve had the pleasure of working with). Because of the graciousness and professionalism of the KC MOD SQUAD and the fact that they’ve paid for their expenses to walk for me in NYC (sometimes twice), I asked if I could feature them in my British Vogue feature in October. After shoot, I received a DM from Amber, another gorgeous model. She said:
Thank you again for asking us KC girls to be part of your British Vogue publication! It means so much to me that you were willing to trust us with your vision! Also, as a plus model “we”, seem less attractive and less high fashion, rarely get these opportunities it makes it even more sweet. Adore you and everything you stand for. Thank you Dara ❤
She’s got the ferocity and the look that I love. Amber’s got curves, thighs and boobs, so it was fun to create a plunging neck line, a body-hugging fit and a sky-high slit to show off those sky high legs in my AW18 collection. The only noticeable difference to me, than the other models, was that she had to get down to her knees when I helped her put on her dress, because this 5’ nothing designer couldn’t reach over her 6’1” stature.
And these moments of owning who you are brought me back to when I first completely comfortable in my own skin.
I had turned 40. I wasn’t skinny, but I loved the way I looked even with my wobbly bits! My friend Erin, who is a phenomenal photographer, was hosting a boudoir shoot invited me to participate. I’m not going to lie, it was little intimidating at first. However, I was so empowered and felt so beautiful after the shoot (#beautiful). It was something I did for ME and I was proud of the photos.
“This is not about a man’s approval. This <nude> photo is just for me, so when I’m old and my tits are in my shoes I can look at it and say, ‘Damn, I was hot.’” Samantha, Sex and the City
So, when you get up today, look at yourself in the mirror and remember you too are a Phenomenal Woman.
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them,
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing,
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need for my care.
’Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
which are my favorite, but flowers in general remind me that when we’re feeling overwhelmed—that we’re not buried, but instead we’ve been planted to root and grow and bloom. Sunflowers reach to the sun, provide shade for others and once they’ve reached their peak, shed seeds of beauty for future generations. 2. Sparklers 
to remind us to be a light for others and to celebrate everyday….always…life is too short to not do it! 3. Bubbles to remind us to never loose sight of our childlike tendencies like wonder and having fun. 4. Spa face masks 
to remind us of self-care especially throughout the craziness of life. You’re no good to anyone if your not taking care of yourself first.
