A brief introduction: au couture

Fashion.

It has lured me in since childhood. Not from the Hello Kitty and Osh Kosh paraphernalia, but Fabricland, my first introduction to patterns and sketches. As Grandma hobbled around and felt each fabric with intense scrutiny, I would pour over books and books of fashion amidst the variant swaths of everything from bold chartreuse to muted taffeta.

I began to dream in fabrics and lines night, day, and thus began to sketch... with increasing frequency and passionate fervor. As my imagination soared, my attention in class started to wane, and my report cards read:

"She is extremely intelligent, but simply does not work to her potential.”

Having paid little attention in class, I learned everything from books and self-fashioned study guides, which I would cram into my middle school brain at 5am, right after recording my daily episode of Sailormoon. Maintaining my A- average kept my teachers at bay for a considerable lenth of time.

Fifth grade rolled around and they separated the girls from the boys for "Family Life" discussions around puberty. We were subjected to a wonderful cinematographic treat from "Always" and reminded that it's okay to be the last one in the locker room to develop. But I had more important things brewing. I strategically balanced the notebook on my lap, which I thought to be "cleverly" hidden under my desk....you remember? The kind with the chair and table stuck together by a long snaky arm. As I snuck furtive glances under my desk, I didn't account for the fact that Mrs. Sabin would think it odd for me to stare at my knees with intense earnesty and thirty seconds later, I was busted. Another great reason for hating puberty.

Then Mr. Yanni in sixth grade and Ms. Achen in seventh. Each threatened me and spoke with my parents about this "delinquent" behavior. My parents began to check my notebooks, and showered me with stern lectures on discipline, but only one man came close to stopping me.

I'm sure his blood shot eyes have everything to do with his cruelty and penchant for publicly humiliating his students. After confiscating one of my sketches, Mr. Springer taped it to the front of the classroom and wrote my initials underneath. Mortified, I turned to my 8th grade crush who promptly asked which element of the periodic table the two letters stood for. FOILED AGAIN! Haha!

Fashion lives on! And not through models, trends or retailers alone....fashion is an art. And art is inspiring. So let it encompass your life and wrap you in a warmth that glows inside and out.