Counting weekends, today is the 11th day of Olive’s fall break. This is a new invention. I don’t recall having a fall break in high school. And 11 days?!
It’s complicated when you work part-time and are a stay-at-home mom part-time. There are logistics, of course, but also emotions that complicate the scheduling. How much do I work? How much do I set aside to make intentional memories? With Olive three years from high school graduation, there seems to be almost more pressure to make every minute count.
But the business is the busiest it’s ever been. We increased manufacturing this year, and there are skirts moving through every stage of the process: four just arrived, four are leaving India, and four are being designed and stitched. Fabric is being acquired at all times, searched out, designed, drooled over.
My salon is by appointment, which helps me balance my roles. It's a working studio and, on weeks like the last couple, home to Olive as she does her French homework.
And then there are events. Fun, creative, informative gatherings: one part sparkly drinkware, one part delicious fashion, one part meeting inspiring women, and a final part learning how and why we dress.
As I sleep, I dream of the next skirt; as I wake, I manage the day's memorable events with my daughter. And I often get caught in a grumpy middle. I haven't had enough time for my brain to chew on the problems it's trying to solve: the next skirt, the next event, the next pattern adjustment.
My Mamaw passed last August. The OG child. Even toward the end, crippled with pain, she was never old. She was deep, wise and thoughtful. But she was playful, too.
This is the picture I have in my head as I build in this season of business. There are more and bigger bills, representing the women we support through our sales. There are more clients, with stories I love being a part of: overcoming sickness, navigating relational difficulties, making strides in their careers.
To finish my work, including the looming pile of laundry sitting next to me (Sunday is when I fold laundry), takes systems, concentration, discipline. And yet, to do my work well, I have to remain playful, joyful. I have to meander, not be in too much of a rush. I have to notice the small things in life: the smell of dinner as it cooks, the changing leaves.
I am getting better at my job, but I also know less than I did when I first began. I feel it in parenting, too. As the mom of a toddler, I had strong opinions about exactly how to raise Olive. Now that she's in high school, I've learned enough to know I don't *really* know that much. I don't know exactly how to help her find a college and career path. I'm not sure which opportunities are best. I am teaching her to drive, and I humbly admit that I don't know how to do that. There's gas, brakes, a steering wheel. I don't know where to go from there...
Here we are, then. Years into business, knowing less than when I started. (You understand, I know more, but in knowing more, I realize how much there is to know.) Perhaps this is the key to the playfulness I am after.
Did my Mamaw play because her work was done? Toward the end, she didn't play only when she felt well.
She was wise and deep, as I said. Perhaps she understood how small she was, and that allowed her to throw up her hands in relief: *Oh, good, I can't possibly control this.* And that relief led to play.
Excellence is my jam, whether it’s an event I’m hosting, a skirt I’m building, or a meal I’m putting together for my family. But excellence can become a straightjacket for myself and everyone else involved if it isn’t complemented by playfulness.
Can you see that playfulness in my designs? The function of elastic and pockets, the washable, swooshy fabrics, the bright colors and interesting shapes of the skirts. I love seeing women in color.
In my business, I need both the creative freedom to dream up a skirt and the discipline to get the pattern right: spreadsheets, drawings, samples that make the dream a reality.
Getting dressed is much the same. It’s play, but it also takes knowledge, planning, and systems.
Last month’s fashion show was the fun, childlike side of getting dressed. Next month, I’m turning toward the other side: understanding what we’re wearing and why it matters.
As the stores fill with warm, fuzzy layers in anticipation of the holidays, I’m checking labels and seeing the same substitutions over and over: cheaper fibers used to imitate the qualities we want from a good sweater. These are the things I get excited about, understanding why some clothes feel so much better than others.
With the holiday shopping frenzy just around the corner, I thought it would be fun to bring some of my textile knowledge into the salon for Good Sweater, an evening of fiber, fashion & friends.
We’ll pass around real sweaters, talk about what they’re made of and why it matters, and you’ll leave with a handy pocket guide to fiber types. There’ll be drinks, snacks, and good company, too. A festive little night out that will change the way you shop.
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