A Case of the Mondays

Mondays are always a challenge. Waking up early again after a nice relaxing weekend to start the week is never something I look forward to. Especially now when I have two snuggly kittens making it very difficult to move out of bed.

Monday morning was different (still hard to get up), but rather than going straight to work. I took a 1/2 day and went to a meeting first thing at a new office building. Its a super exciting opportunity at a company I have always wanted to work with. Seeing as its about 15 minutes closer to my apartment than my current office, I left with plenty of time, but expected an easy subway commute.

NOT.

About 15 minutes in to the ride my train gets stopped under the East River (I live in Queens) due to train traffic. I feel a small wave of panic wash over me, but quickly let it go as I still had plenty of time. A few more minutes go by when another announcement comes on that there is a sick passenger at 42nd street (let me remind you that I am still technically in queens). Cue the panic.

NYC subways are notoriously unreliable. Between train traffic, sick passengers, and signal problems, it’s a miracle we get anywhere.

Anyways, as I sat on the train practicing my meditative breathing (and receiving weird looks from other passengers and every inhale/exhale), I kept reminding myself that this situation was completely out of my hands. I obviously love being in control of everything, so being stuck with no wifi and nowhere to go was an anxiety attack waiting to happen. When I finally reached the first stop in Manhattan, I raced out of the station, quickly calling someone to explain the situation, attempting to hail a cab (right in the middle of morning rush hour). Just to paint this picture, I was all dressed up and wearing 6″ heels running down Lexington Avenue. Perfect outfit for marathon training obviously.

Luckily there was a cab pulled over at a coffee cart, so I ran to him, arms flailing, yelling PLEASE TAKE ME. Jumping in, I ordered him to make for 50th and 7th Ave as fast as he possibly could. A nice, older gentleman, he understood the urgency of the situation, and proceeded to talk me down as we made our way to the drop-off point. Maybe there’s still hope for our city’s humanity,

In an end to this horrible commute, I made it to the meeting only 15 minutes late. In my mind, being late to anything important is an automatic fail, but then again some things are out of our control. I guess we will just wait and see what fate has in store for me with this opportunity. Happy Monday!

Xoxo -J

Will you iron this tulle?

I’ve been reminiscing a lot this week on my favorite New York moments, trying to remember why I love this city so much. Any New Yorker knows that you love the city one day and hate it the next. This week was my hating week. And in my hatred, I remembered this story…

The summer before my senior year of college, I was offered an internship with my favorite design house. I’ll never forget when the email came through. I literally jumped for joy because I was so incredibly excited. All I had to figure out was the logistics of getting there.

Most internships in fashion are unpaid, and located in one of the most expensive cities in the world. So how does a broke college student, afford to work 60 + hours a week for free and live somewhere for an entire summer? Great question.

I am extremely lucky that I have parents who were able to help me out, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to accept this incredible opportunity. I’m fully aware that many other students were not as lucky.

I packed my (many) bags and moved with three other friends into a dorm room at FIT, ready to break into the industry.

I would walk each morning from the dorm room to the office, a nice leisurely stroll along the newly created Highline walking path, to the giant industrial building by the Hudson, where their offices were located. Once I arrived in the highly secure lobby, I would scan my intern card and make my way to the 14th floor. After dropping my bags in the intern/storage/workroom (aka a closet), I would head to see the pattern-maker I thankfully had latched on to.

She was so incredibly talented and I learned so much from her over the course of those two months. Most days, I was asked to copy patterns of evening or wedding gowns. Sounds pretty simple right? NOPE. These patterns had 30+ pieces, ranging in size from gigantic (the skirts) to less than 2″. The bodice’s were always quick to copy, but when it came time to do the skirts I had to get creative. The studio was so crowded you were lucky if you got 1/16″ of a worktable to use. Another setback was the lack of straight pins and scotch tape. I actually remember using post-it notes and hoping they might keep my papers together. That and crawling around on the concrete floor searching for pins.

This is one of the many impossible tests thrown out to the students of the fashion industry. Here’s a task for you, I’m giving you basically no supplies, but do this perfectly within an hour. I used to store them away in my brain as “Devil Wear’s Prada” moments.

Those lucky interns that befriended an employee were able to leave the office at a decent hour. The unlucky ones could be there until 7:30/8pm. Okay, if you’re being paid, by all means stay as long as needed. But to be unpaid, there was no way in HELL I was staying that late. (Thank God I was one of the lucky ones!)

One thing to remember about NYC: You are always walking. Constantly on your feet (especially if you aren’t provided chairs at your internship…), running errands to different fabric stores, steaming dresses, copying patterns…it was a never ending workout session. By the end of the day you are so exhausted that getting onto the 5′ high dorm room bed even sounded impossible.

The last week I was there I was given my final impossible task. A giant bag stuffed with tulle was dropped into my lap. “This needs to be ironed ASAP”

Tulle is a tricky fabric to work with. If the iron is too hot, the tulle will melt. If the iron is too cold, the wrinkles will be forever locked in. I began my task with an open mind, pulling about 1/2 yard out every few minutes and using the iron to work each crinkle out. Shoved in such a small bag, I was deceived by how much I needed to iron. Turned out to be 100 yards. Yep, you read that right. ONE HUNDRED YARDS. Thats about the length of a football field. I spent the entire day and some of the next ironing. I kid you not, my shoulder was sore on day two. I truly think I was being punished by the fashion gods for some outfit faux-pas I didn’t know about.

Overall the internship was extremely informative and I learned a lot. Would I ever do it all over again? 100% NOT. EVER. My 25 year old body would not survive. I’ve also learned how it feels to be respected in a workplace.

And somehow, even after this tulle debacle, I decided to use silk tulle in my senior thesis collection at college. Maybe I didn’t learn my lesson. I’m still working on trying to remember why I love this city. In doing so, I’m sure I’ll have another story soon…

XOXO -J

Life, and a New (Cat) Mom.

Last night I adopted two kittens. Yep, I’m a cat lady now.

The minute I got home and unpacked the cuties, I received a text from the guy I had been dating for the last 4.5 months. Let’s call him Kevin. And yes I say ‘had been dating,’ so you can probably guess what happened next. He decided he needed to “get something off his chest” before his two week island vacation. Due to his busy schedule and the fact that he may not be staying in NYC next year, he felt it best to end our relationship before he hurt me anymore. VIA TEXT.

Wow, what a nice guy right? He’s thinking how kind it would be to not string me along for the next few months.

But what about the last 4.5? He knew when we first started dating that he was applying for other positions all over the country starting Fall 2019. He knew he had a busy schedule. But did that stop him from dating me for a few months? NOPE. So my question is, why waste my summer? (This is rhetorical, I can probably figure out the answer)

Let me give you a backstory…

I moved to NYC a little over three years ago to begin my career as a fashion designer. Like many before me, I embraced the excitement of all the city had to offer and spent my days running errands as an intern for a fashion company. I genuinely enjoyed this internship, unlike my first summer internship at a very well known, high profile design house (we will discuss this more next time). Yes I still ran about the garment district in high heels, sweating my ass off carrying bags laden with samples, going to factories in unmarked buildings where I would pick up MORE bags, only to run back to the office in time for our fitting. But the difference was at this internship, I was actually treated like a human (a rarity).

Once I landed my first job as an intimate apparel technical designer, I thought I has finally made it big. I had done it!! I was a real New Yorker, spending more on my rent each month than my paycheck allowed, eating bagels every saturday, and saving every dime for the inevitable almond milk latte needed to get me through a Monday.

Fast forward three years later, and I am still a technical designer (I actually do love my job), still living in the pricey apartment, and now have two cats. Oh yeah, I’m single. Again.

Why is it that we successful, powerful women (I like to pretend I am powerful) let men walk all over us? I know I’m not the only one. It’s always ‘make sure you play it cool’, and ‘don’t show him how much you actually like him’. Or ‘make sure you NEVER say Boyfriend until he brings it up, he might get scared and run away…or worse ghost you!’

We treat them with such nervousness so we don’t ruin the relationship before it even begins. And somehow, in all that time spent trying to be cool, we end up actually liking them. Its a vicious cycle (more stories to come). So WHY do we allow them to hold the reigns on the relationship?? WHY let them determine the relationship status and if all of a sudden it needs to end?? If we are as strong as I know we are, then we need to stop! It’s too hard to be perfect all the time.

Now I’m sitting in my bed in sweats, cuddling with new kittens and with no plans on a Saturday night, and none to start dating any time soon. You know what? I genuinely don’t care. Come Monday, I plan to zip up my sexy over-the-knee boots (fall fashion is the best) and strut down 5th avenue to my office. As the heads turn, which they always do and I secretly love, I will be happy just being me. I have many plans for the future of my career and none of them will change because of one man.

Happy hunting. NOT.

XOXO -J