If sewing elf shoes out of felt was innovative fashion, I was a mini McQueen at 7 years old. I assume that my younger cousin Ryan, who I made model said shoes, felt differently. But it was then, maybe even in that very Michigan moment, that my path had begun to reveal itself. The one that, 18 years later, led me to New York City, into Vera Wang's studio -- where I spent the next 4 and a half years collecting experience and confidence -- to tomorrow at 2pm: the debut of my first fashion line, Reservoir.
When I found out I'd be writing this blog, I wasn't sure where to take it -- after all, I was still pre-'the moment.' My story had yet to unfold. But then I realized: There is something to be said about the moment before 'the moment.' Like for anyone in my position, what happens next (post-debut) is out of my control. But, as I trace the angles of my wooden invitation, which by now is on the desks (or in a pile near the desks) of many a fashion-industry 'somebody,' I allow myself to revel in that doesn't-come-around-too-often spine tingle.
Envisioning the runway at Cary Hall (of the Dimenna Center for Classical Music), a floor-to-ceiling construct of breathtaking wood paneling that I found via Google, I picture everything coming together just as meticulously planned. All 10 hand-picked models are outfitted in my collection -- inspired by a spectrum of birds -- which I've been working on since October (and my entire life). One by one, the models make their entrances. Their hair and makeup is flawless. The garments are moving beautifully. The show's soundtrack is enveloping every audience member. OK -- end over-dramatized scene.
But you get the gist. Hopefully, that's how it will all unfold. Nevertheless, that's the vision I'll keep. And, more important, that's the one that's led me here -- and through the long, coffee-filled work days in my east village apartment/office.
I'm seasoned enough to know that not everyone will fall in love with a quirky, fly-fishing, mid-westerner's take on high-fashion. And, in an industry where it's important for others to like (and buy!) your end-product and the formula for success is somewhat unknown, it's tough to remain steadfast. But having stuck to my guns will only make what's about to happen
tomorrow even more mine. And that, I know.