But here’s a quick recap of before college:
At first, it might have seemed surprising that I would end up working in the fashion industry. I had two brothers and I grew up on a u-shaped street where almost all of the children my age were boys. There were only a few girls on Maple Lane that I would play with occasionally, so most of the time, I wore t-shirts and shorts… like the boys. My shoes were filthy from running around the block… like the boys. But then, the fateful day came when I received a flyer from the student council announcing Wednesday would be Dress Up Day. Something inside me squealed with delight. Wait til they get a load of me, not wearing an Adidas shirt! Wednesday morning came and I knew that I would wear a dress on Dress Up Day, obviously. It was light blue and very shiny. It had a small, metallic zipper at the center of the neckline. And I think I wore it with white tights. When I came downstairs my father gasped and said “And what are you all dressed up for?!” Long story short, no one was as dressed up as me for Dress Up Day. So I faked sick and went home.
I tucked away my love for dressing up for years to come. Scarred from the light blue dress episode of junior high, I kept my ideas secret. I can remember sitting in physics in high school, not paying attention to whatever it was Mr. Lindbloom was rattling on about, but instead sketching outfits on loose-leaf paper. Then I’d meticulously number the outfits and arrange them in runway order. I’m not sure if anyone ever saw my scratches, because I always tried to cover them with a stack of books and my arm spread out the way you would if you were writing a secret love note to your crush and didn’t want anyone to read it as they walked by your desk.
“ Curabitur congue dapibus orci, id iaculis sapien efficitur id. Nulla faucibus varius mi tempus. Maecenas tincidunt turpis quis faucibus finibus.”
Before I knew it, I found myself in college… sketching clothes with dozens of other students, but with no books to or arms covering my work. I attending the Illinois Institute of Art – Chicago and I was both thrilled and scared as shit to go downtown by myself. But by the end of the first week, I was hooked. The city vibrated with energy. I walked the hallways of the campus wide eyed and taking mental pictures of everyone and everything. I traded in my high school cheerleading skirt for mismatching outfits, (it was cool), and I wore black tights under everything.
My continued love for dressing up fit in perfectly at my job – intern at the Karin Berger Showroom.
My daily activities included
*Pics of sketches from college notebooks