I Don't Know How I Do It, But...

There are very few books on shoemaking and pattern cutting for shoes. It's a dying art, as most shoes are designed by someone with no knowledge of production, and handed to someone else to make. But I feel I need a more in-depth understanding of shoes, and I also really enjoy the process of making them.

I have found one book that has been immensely helpful. Of course it is also immensely expensive. So I did some price shopping around the intarwebs, and I found that I could order the book directly from the publisher for half the price. I email them, requesting an order form, and not ten minutes later I get an email from the author of the book! It seems he works for this publishing company as well! He invoiced me and said he could send the book this morning!

But that's not the really interesting part. That's just the lead up. So, of course I sign all professional-ish emails with my phone number. I hate getting phone calls, but when it comes to my design work, I want people to contact me! But no one ever does. So you can imagine my surprise when at noon I receive a phone call from the author, letting me know he mailed my book. He asked if I was a student and we get to chatting. He is a lovely chap. It turns out he used to teach at Cordwainers (back when it was a good school) and has been in bespoke shoemaking for over 45 years! We talked about schools and how hard it is to find a real education in footwear. And then he did something amazing. He offered me two things- first, that I may email him with any technical questions I may have about shoemaking. Secondly, he said he teaches in the US and knows a lot of suppliers, shoemakers and other people he would happily put me in contact with.

HOW did that just happen? I order a book and somehow get a phone call from the author who offers me his shoemaking contacts in another country?? I think he sussed out that I wanted to do more than make Manolos and was happy to meet someone who appreciated the knowledge he has to share. But still... WHAT? HOW?

Just Curious

In the US, we say "giving you shit". In the UK, we say "taking the piss". Why all the exchanging of bodily excretions as terms for "making fun of"?

Obama and Nerds

This has nothing to do with being an American in London, but it does have to do with being American. Take ten minutes of your time and enjoy the fact that our president had nerd cred.

The World Keeps Turning

When I was leaving for London in September I found it hard to believe that life in San Francisco would continue without me.

I don't mean to say that I thought my role in San Francisco life was significant and irreplacable. I mean that I didn't realize how much things would stay the same. My friends still live in their apartments, still go to their jobs, still bicycle around, still want to see me. I didn't realize how easy it would be to reassemble the pieces of my old life as soon as I visited.

It seems so simple a thought. But you have to realize that I was leaving everything and everyone behind and facing the unknown, and that it seemed my life (as I knew it) was ending. So it was beyond me to consider that all the elements that add up to "My Life" would continue on without me being there to coax them along.

I fly back to London today, and I am a bit sad about it. I am stressed out about the homework I haven't yet started, and the second project I received in the mail a few days ago because I failed my first two. (That was an unpleasant surprise, and I have to go speak with my tutor about it first thing when I get back.)

I have a lot of work to do when I get back. I am really lagging when it comes to my homework. But in my defense, I haven't had a full day to myself since I arrived here. Of course now that I've found out I have twice the homework I did before, I am even more stressed out over all the research I need to do over the weekend before school begins. Ugh. I should have been more responsible with my time. Damn.

I suppose I am dreading flying back to London because I worry that I will be lonely again. Not just alone, but lonely. I am trying to remind myself that I have some new friends that will be eager to see me, and room mates that will probably meet me at the underground station when I arrive. It's not the same as seeing my long-term friends in America, but it does help sate my need for companionship.

On the other hand, I suppose being alone wasn't so bad in the end. The last two days here in San Francisco have been an odd reminder of that, ever since my boyfriend went back to work on Monday. But being alone all day in SF doesn't seem right, doesn't seem natural, whereas in London my entire life is structured around being on my own. I am used to getting around, going out, wandering, sitting in cafes, and spending most of my time with my only my own company. And I guess I'm not such bad company, really.

But I will miss having a warm boy to snuggle up to every night, and friends that I have years of history with. I will miss the sunlight. I will miss having no school schedule or school-induced stress. I will miss the familiar feel of San Francisco culture.

But I am looking forward to wandering around London again. In a weird way I am looking forward to school because I want to do better than I have before. I am looking forward to developing friends, even though it can be hard work. I am excited to hit a few museums and find some inspiration for my next couple of projects. I am looking forward to seeing the people in my program again, because I have been very lucky with the caliber of creativity and intelligence in my fellow students at St. Martins. And I suppose in a small, secret way I am sort of looking forward to being lonely. It has become my norm. Although loneliness can sometimes be unbearable for me, it allows me the space to figure myself out, unaffected by the powerful personalities I tend to collect around me.


And now I must go pack. My flight leaves at 6pm tonight, and I have a million things to take care of before I go. Next time I write to you, I will be on the other side of the pond.


I hope you had a fantastic holiday, and happy New Year to you all!

A Few Things of Note

It's funny that while I've survived the London cold, I arrived in SF only to come down with a nasty nasty cold. But I'm getting over it, slowly.

Tonight The Boy and I are going to decorate our little tiny Charlie Brown Christmas tree and wrap other people's presents. Right now, we're eating exotic cheese on crackers, sipping white wine, and playing games. Maybe we're nerds, but we're cute.

A few things about being home:

- my mother and I have reached a point in our relationship where we are much more honest and clear with one another, so I am not dreading family time anymore. This is HUGE.

- I have missed American brunch, which for The Boy and I involves waffles, mimosas, eggs, and lots and lots of coffee. Sundays used to be my favorite day of week. Since moving to the UK, they have become just another day to do homework. It's nice having a day to look forward to again (despite being sickly over brunch today).

- I cannot wait to see my friends and give them their presents! I miss my people. People who I have long-standing jokes, stories, and history with.

- I am getting a lot of comments from strangers since I cut my hair. I was asked if I was a European movie star the other day. When I laughed and said that I wasn't, the woman winked and said, "I won't tell, don't worry." Yesterday our waitress asked if she knew me, and spent a lot of time talking with us, commenting on my hair. Something a bout the bangs makes people want to talk to me.

- One awesome thing about being home is having a computer-genius boyfriend. My computer is now fixed. This is amazing, and I am thrilled! I don't have to restart it every five minutes anymore.

- It's fun to be pretentious here. I get to start sentences with phrases like, "well, in London...." or "you know, in Europe...." heeheehee.

- It's surprising to me how many Britishisms I have picked up in my three months in London. I didn't realize how carefully I've trained myself to use certain words until I found that I had to remind myself to use Americanisms here. I have to remind myself to say "thanks" instead of "cheers" sometimes. Or "bangs" instead of "fringe". Also "school" and not "uni". There are a few others too, but they are escaping me right now.
I think I have fallen into British habits because I spent so much time alone, observing and listening. It's like the other night, when I was walking around Soho with two of my friends from class and they thought we were supposed to make a right, but I told them it was a left. We argued for a minute, but I insisted it was a left, then a right, then another left. And guess who was right? One of my friends drunkenly pushed me and said, "I've lived here for years, and you've only been here a few months. How come you know where you're going better than I do?" And I realized that it's because I don't have the luxury of familiarity. In London I don't know where anything is, so I pay very close attention to where things are in case I need to find them again. And Soho is one of the areas that is so full of interesting streets, I have paid quite a bit of attention to every place I've ever walked past.


Ok, tree decorating time! I'll catch up with you all later.

Home

It's the strangest thing to be vacationing at a place that was your home three months ago. How do you pack to go home when the home you're visiting is no longer where you live?

My dorm room is not the most comfortable place in the world but it's where I spend my nights, mornings, and some weekends. I have made it as comfy as possible, and shipped myself my favorite throw blanket and my favorite books so that it would feel more like my home.

But now I just left all those symbols of homey comfort to come back "home". It's odd when I really think about it; when I realize that my home isn't in either city right now.

I even had to buy a UK to US adapter plug, which was a bit trippy. Seems backwards.

The flight over wasn't so bad. It was a flight full of crying babies, but headphones and in-flight movies drowned them out. Before I flew, I bought myself a slight upgrade to Economy Plus, which gave this rather tall American Redhead about six extra inches of legroom. The flight went pretty quickly, really- I got through check in and security in Heathrow in about 20 minutes. The whole thing would have gone off without a hitch had I not gotten mild food poisoning from the airplane food, and spent six of the ten hours in flight trying not to throw up.

But fate is kind to me, and I happened to be seated next to a very sweet Swedish nurse who for some reason had a stomach-healing pill in her bag. By the time we landed, I was no longer telling myself to breathe through my nose and craving salty crackers. She was a life saver. Thank you Swedish Nurse Lady!

I am actually pretty proud of myself because although I have traveled before, I've always traveled with the help of someone else. Either someone was consulted in my packing, or did the online check in for me, or dropped me off at the airport. This time I had to do the whole thing myself. And I did it! I always find myself getting very nervous before I fly, because all the preparations leading up to the flying are kind of a mystery to me. But now I am fine.

It's a bit strange being home. I am sitting on my boyfriend's bed while he's at work today. I have spent a lot of time here, and I am very comfortable in his house. Old routines are so easy to fall back into, you know? I know where things are, my body remembers the way I always sit in his car, I remember how everything works. I have history here. I haven't had any in London yet, so everything feels kinda of new, still.

It's also nice to have someone take care of me sometimes. Someone ELSE to make dinner every now and then, or to pick me up when it's freezing and rainy. I have come to love being on my own in London, actually. I love that my schedule is entirely up to me, that I am not beholden to anyone else. I've embraced that independence as much as I can, on a budget. ;) But god, it is so nice to come back and know that every night there is a comfortable bed with a hot boy in it waiting for me. It's wonderful to know that I have many years of history with friends here, and that they all want to see me so badly that they've been emailing me for the last two weeks, asking if I was home yet. It's nice to have others involved in my life, making demands on my time. The only thing I have that demands my time back in London is school (and it makes some SERIOUS demands, let me tell you...)

It is sunny out today. I haven't seen the sun in over a week. It feels amazing. And novel. I can go outside without layers of clothing under a sweater, under a jacket with a hat, a scarf, and gloves. It feels weird, but good, to be home. "Home".

On Travel and the American Mindset Against It

On the walk home from the market yesterday my classmate and I compared notes. Being from Australia she has a very different sense of the world than I do. It got me thinking...

As a young person living on an isolated continent, there is an expectation in Australia that you will travel the world. This girl is only 23 and has been to so many places she can't even recall them all. She tells me that while she and a friend would be wandering the streets of Hong Kong or New Delhi, she would often run into other Australians doing the same thing.

In contrast I've grown up in a country that has an inflated sense of self. There is a deep rooted feeling engrained into us that America has it all, and has it the best... so why bother traveling, right?

It is incredibly expensive to travel within the US, much less outside of it. There are many roadblocks and issues to deal with when you leave the country. Just preparing to travel can be a very big chore. It's like they want to make you feel guilty for wanting something more than America. "I'm sorry, I really want to visit Burma, is that okay with you?" you're supposed to ask.

In America travel is seen as a luxury. People who travel often are "lucky" and living an exotic lifestyle. But in Australia, you're an idiot if you don't leave the island. How different the mindset must be to grow up feeling that it is natural and important to travel to unfamiliar places, instead of feeling that it's unusually decadent to fly coach to another country for a week.

I spent the walk home listening to my classmate, realizing I have missed out on a important part of life. And I promised myself that I would take steps to change that fact because I feel so ignorant of the goings on in the world around me. I suppose that is the result of growing up in a culture that encourages us to stay put, and be proud of it. America! Fuck yeah!

American Politics

And on a much more important topic than my own petty little complaints, this is great. Colin Powell endorses Obama:

Oh Toto......

You know how I know I'm not at an American university? My school's library has a whole section devoted to porn and studies on it. It's right next to the crime/rape section, and directly across from fashion, around the corner from sociology.

I Am Not One of You, Even Though I Am

Being an American in a foreign country seems to attract two types of people. One is the kind of person that is just as excited to meet new people from other parts of the world as I am. The other kind I seem to attract is other Americans.

I have heard that Americans are seen as this cliquish group that doesn't socialize well, and now I see why. I have been making a point of talking with people from all over the world- I mean, if you're not eager, or at least willing to do that, why come all the way here? What is up with the "you're American? I'm American, let's be best friends!" attitude?

I think that some people assume that because I dye my hair a certain way, I am a certain kind of person. But I am not that girl. I dress in a lot of weird ways and dye my hair red (and black, and blonde, and brown, and burgandy, and....). I listen to everything from Billie Holiday to Gary Numan to SiSe to The Beatles, and generally lean towards the indie kid scene more than anything else.

I might be an American in London, but I am not looking to meet Americans while I'm here. I can do that in America, thanks.

On Living Elsewhere

"Ohmigod, I HATE how I don't know any of the brands here. Everything is different. It's SO annoying," someone said to me.

And this illustrates why some people will not make the most of this experience studying abroad. If small differences frustrate you, perhaps you shouldn't put yourself in the midst of a different culture for a number of years.

At first glance, living in English culture doesn't seem like that much of a stretch for an American. We speak the "same" language, and live in what appears to be very similar ways. But I have found that our two cultures are unexpectedly different. Being a fashion designer I think of it like shopping for fabric. From a distance, satin is satin is satin. But touch the satin, and you'll find the fibers in the fabrics are completely different.

In the week that I've lived here, I have already found that the differences between our cultures are many, and often subtle. But the words and lifestyle often seem deceptively similar, and it is easy to forget that I am living in an entirely different culture over here.

So I suppose there is a tiny bit of culture shock happening for my room mates and I. But unlike my room mate who likes to complain about it, I am having the best time with it! I am really enjoying this opportunity to observe Brits in their natural habitat and learn from these creatures that are so similar to my own species.

Before I left the states I was terribly nervous that I would appear to be one of those stupid, ignorant American tourists. But luckily I haven't found that to be much of a problem. In fact today I even gave directions to two English women. Go me!

When I woke up this morning it was beautiful and sunny. Inspired by this rare California-style heat, I decided to expand my knowledge of the local-ish neighborhood. I wandered down to Brick Lane and walked all the way up to Commercial Street where I meandered up and down the various streets and alleys in the area until I noticed shops were closing up. My afternoon revealed two local fabric stores (yeay!), a number of restaurants I absolutely must try, two of the most incredible vintage shops I've ever been to (and I have been to many), three contenders for the "Local Comfy Coffee Shop" title, and most importantly that I don't come across as an American who doesn't want to be here.

Context

I think a little background information is in order:

It's been about a year since I first thought about how glamorous it sounded "studying abroad". But it all happened very quickly. In October, I visited England. A few weeks ago, my long-term boyfriend and I flew to L.A. where I presented my portfolio to two of the finest fashion schools in the world, and I was invited to attend Central St. Martins. In case you live outside of the design and art world, and have no idea what that means, it's a very, very big deal, and an honor I was not expecting.

I was not prepared to be invited to CSM, so I never visited the college, and never planned for the possibility. But here I am, and the decision has sort of been made for me. I have to go to London, now. This would be the opportunity I'd kick myself for passing up, if I let it go.

Now, the biggest deal: my boyfriend cannot come with me. It breaks my heart every day. It scares the living crap out of me, too. But I couldn't ask him to move, even if he wanted to. He has an amazing career, and a 7-year old daughter here. I am afraid of leaving everything and everyone I know behind, but I'm more terrified of facing a new country entirely alone without him. I am excited by it, too, though. It will be my first opportunity to stand alone, and figure myself out. I've always had someone to lean on for backup, and I am hoping this experience will help me finally grow up. And if the boy and I are meant to be together, we'll see how things work out when I come back. I sound brave when I say that, but really, I'm going to be a wreck as the actual moving approaches. I've had dreams about how hard it will be to get on the plane and leave him here. I'm one scared little girl, lemme tell ya.

All of my friends are excited for me. I keep meeting them for coffee so they can remind me why I should be thrilled. But I worry. And some part of me knows that this knot in my stomach wont relax until I've been in London for a while, and have settled in, learned my way around, made one friend. I hate the process of moving, and this will be the biggest move I've made. I will have to sell a lot of my stuff. I won't have any furniture that I can bring with me. My comfy bed will stay here. (I wonder if I can get new power cords for my sewing machine etc to fit the UK sockets...hmm.) And worst/best of all, I will have to spend some time figuring out where everything is again. Hm, I need hairdye, where the hell do I go? Food... where's the cheapest store? What's the comfiest coffee shop around? I've lived in San Francisco for about 4 years, but I have a very good sense of the place. How long it will take in a cab to get from one place to another; the easiest route to take when getting home from any place; the spots that are open late; the best pie in town. I will miss the comfort of all that. I will be fine once I'm in London. It's just hard facing all the steps between here and there.

Also, I won't lie: I am NOT looking forward to being a starving student. I am not well off, but I'm better off than some of my peers in school. I have a TV, a carpet on my floor, a good collection of books and movies I began collecting a few years ago. I have my own sewing machine and serger. And I have been found guilty of buying shoes instead of food. But I've never been in the position where I have to eat top ramen for weeks. When I get close to that, my boyfriend usually buys me some food (he's good like that). But once I move to the UK, I will be very poor. Not to sound like a terrible person or anything, but I do not do well when I'm poor. I get very self concious about it. I feel very sorry for myself, I'm afraid. And I have developed a taste for decadent experiences. I wonder how much of that is the fact that I have adult friends who live the lifestyle I want. Maybe being around other poor students won't make me so afraid of being poor. But, awful though I may be, I hope I can find people to remind me that it's okay to be a student and live like a student, on those days when I start to feel cranky and lonely.

So that about catches us up, I think. I am trying to be as honest as I can about my feelings about this move, right now. I have to finish about 6 months of school to get my Associates Degree in Fashion Design here in the states, and then my birthday will hit next fall. After which, I will head off to a rather lonely time, as I try and find my footing in the UK. I just now realized this will be my last holiday season here for a while. And, I missed my last Halloween. Aw man....

Some Thoughts on History

I visited London in late October for the first time, where I spent two weeks getting to know my extended family in Cambridge, and getting lost repeatedly in London. But being lost was a pleasure in some ways, and I was graced with unusually beautiful weather (albeit shockingly cold in comparison to San Francisco). My handy "A to Z London" map guide in my bag, I'd spend my days wandering around the city, bundled up in scarves and a heavy wool jacket, camera in pocket, coffee in hand.

Being a Caucasian American (and a girl raised without any religion) I've often felt that I have no roots; no sense of history, no community that I am a part of. US American history goes back a whopping coupla hundred years, and our sense of what is "old" is ridiculously adolescent. But in England I found some of what I feel is lacking in my life: a sense of a grounded, lived-in past. It might not be my past, but you cannot help but be immersed in it. Everywhere you go, there is culture- and it's been there for a very, very long time.

European history is in some ways very new to me. Growing up in the leftist Bay Area, I learned about The Evil White Man's history only through the lens of another culture's suffering at our hands. I can tell you everything about Central and South America's history of violent dictatorships, but have never taken US history. I could tell you all about parts of Africa, and pieces of the Middle East, but I know nothing of Europe beyond its saga of looting and colonizing. (To be fair, the museums have an impressively worldly collection because of that.) It has always been a little shameful that I am White, growing up in Berkeley.

But in England, I found myself surrounded by the very history I had been denied. Hell, everyone lives in Castles over there. No really. Alright, I kid. But everywhere I went I found buildings that were 600 years old, that contained artifacts that were thousands of years old. Life has been happening in that city for a very long time, and you can feel it in the streets and architecture. And somehow, that long-lived, deeply ingrained sense of history made me feel at home in this place I'd never been before...