Friday

Yesterday:

Dancing to Lady Gaga with Eva who was wearing my highest, most ridiculous platform heels, driving gloves, and a huge gold mask. This girl is going to be a performer- she was practically vogue-ing.

Spending far too much money on vintage-inspired dresses and future-inspired shoes.

Heading out to Kinky Salon where we met the hottest fast zombie ever (aka our friend Arwen) who took us back to her awesome flat to watch Vampire Girl vs. Frankenstein Girl which was a fine example of uh, quality film making.

Getting home at 3:30am and being taken advantage of.


Awesome Friday.

Self-Employed

This week I began my first job as an actual fashion and footwear designer. I’m suddenly self-employed, contracted, and designing some ridiculous things. I can ignore reality to some degree because these clothes will never actually be made out of fabric. Intrigued? I cannot tell you more, nor will I be able to show you anything I am doing for several months. But trust me when I say that if I can pull it off, this will be an epic start to my new portfolio and a discussion-worthy addition to my CV.

Back in SF, Day 3

Today I am cranky. I am sitting in my boyfriend's bedroom and getting really irritated at myself because I don't have any knowledge or control over my situation right now. After a year of being the responsible one who set up the utilities and made all the decisions and took care of all the problems, I am suddenly feeling impotent and useless in a situation I didn't set up.

I realize that sounds a little petty, but I am used to thinking, "ok, this isn't working, and if I can't seem to fix it, so I go to this drawer to find the paperwork I filed, to call the company that has an account in my name so I can sort it out..." and instead I find myself having to defer to my boyfriend and ask him stupid things like where the router is, or where I can put my clothing that won't be in the way.

Because I am no longer taking out loans to pay for my education/life, I currently have no income and no money at my disposal. I am also living in a place where I cannot control how easily I come and go. I just feel useless and pathetic. It's no one's fault, certainly not my boyfriend's. I'm just confused by suddenly having a very different lifestyle and not having tons of stuff to do. It's all just a weird mix of familiar and unfamiliar. The transition from months of constant activity and learning and stress to sudden laziness and being in someone else's space is really getting me down today. I just want to throw all my stuff away and stop trying to fit into a life I didn't create for myself.

I hate feeling useless and incapable.

Hello, San Francisco

It's hot. Unseasonably hot. I just flew out from a country with wan, blue sunshine and I'm not ready for this warm buttery sunlight and heat.

Without sounding pretentious, I feel a little out of place here. I've spent considerable time adjusting to London and it finally became natural. Now I find myself feeling uncomfortable with how wide and open American roads feel, and why does everyone insist on driving on the other side of the road? Our money looks silly and I don't see the point in $1 bills. Tax is added onto shop prices at the till, service charge isn't added, and people look at me funny when I say, "cheers" as a thank you. I'd forgotten just how lazy Americans are about putting together an outfit in the morning- my god people, at east TRY to look nice! You're offending my eyes. The colour of the atmosphere and the colour of the buildings create a pink hue over all of San Francisco, and I'd forgotten how peach the street lamps are. The accents are all wrong. Heavy Californian accents (which I'd never noticed before) sound almost crass. Most English accents are softer to my ears, and I can't believe how many hard, loud Rs I'm hearing around me. I'm highly aware of the weather, the sense of space, the colours of the city, the high hills and massive amount of greenery dotted around the streets. I wonder if this is how visitors see San Francisco.

I'm not a traitor to my own people, but obviously leaving the country gives you a new perspective on the place you come from. I am looking at my city with slightly different eyes, and although little things will become habit, I suspect some things will never become invisible again.

My boyfriend seems absolutely thrilled to have me back. He keeps looking at me like he can't believe I'm really here. It warms my heart, even though I have trouble expressing how much I appreciate his appreciation.  And I realized yesterday that I am officially no longer "staying" with him- now I live with him. I guess that should feel like a big step, but it doesn't. We work well together as a couple, so it comes naturally.

Speaking of work, I start a new job on Monday. I know, right? Well, I *did* say I needed to hit the ground running when I arrived. It seems I'll be doing some design work for my boyfriend's company (it wasn't his suggestion, by the way. His co-workers suggested me because, yaknow, I'm awesome.) In between that, I'm going to harass the shoe designer here that I'd like to work for/with. I will be so friendly she won't be able to say no. I'm good at that.

It's only my first day here, but I miss my friends in London. I am both happy to be back and sad to have left. I miss a lot of stupid things too- like being someone with an accent, and it being a conversation-starter. I miss the feel of pound coins, and boys with smart coats, nerdy specs and perfectly wrapped knit scarves. I miss the weekend markets, the painfully fashionable Shoreditch twats, and the all night salt beef bagels. I miss the transit system (laugh all you want), and I miss brick buildings. But yes, most of all I miss my friends. I don't find friends of that calibre often, and leaving them has left mascara running down my cheeks in the back of cabs. I hate goodbyes. So so so much.

But hopefully I will be able to fly back and visit my people soon. I couldn't say goodbye to either city permanently. I think I will always feel that London is as much a home to me as San Francisco.

4 days pt 2

I'm confused by how many cleaners have suddenly appeared in my flat. There was one, then there were three, then four, now six, back down to three...

I'm having a bit of a white person complex right now because the cleaners are all non-English speakers from other countries. Somehow I didn't feel like such a privileged white bitch when my Indian flatmate was the one organizing the cleaning service. *shrink

So after waking early to wait for the Virgin Media guy to come collect the router, and waiting for hours, I finally called and they told me "oh, no one is coming to pick it up. Ooops. Just leave it." Great, thanks guys. There were so many things I could have done this morning had I not been sitting around waiting! I could have slept in!

I managed to get rid of my unwanted clothes and shoes by putting them downstairs in the entry way with a sign saying "FREE CLOTHES size 14 and SHOES size 8-9". They were gone in ten minutes.

Now I just have to survive the walkthrough with the property manager at 3pm. I anticipate a lot of arguing and drama. Hopefully I can either kill him with smiles and kindness, or turn on the, "I'm taller, bigger, and meaner than you," persona. It just depends on how he wants to play this.

Today is stressful. I just want this part of it to be over with as quickly as possible.

4 days pt 1

Waiting for the Virgin Media guys to come take away my internet. In the meantime I have the cleaners in, and one particularly stinky/sweaty guy is cleaning my bathroom. His scent does not inspire confidence but he seems to be taking his time doing details, so....

In the meantime, I am taking photos of stuff so I can determine which clothes I'm carrying down to the donation bin, and which I'm shoving into a bag to give to friends. I was going to donate my bike back to the place I bought it from (they are lovely and fix old bikes to sell at good prices), but luckily an equally tall friend of mine is in need of a bike for a few weeks, so I'm riding down to give it to her today and she's going to donate it for me!

I stupidly asked a friend to keep one of my suitcases at her place so I didn't have to bother carrying it around this weekend, but now I realize I need to put a few things in there. Oops!

I still feel like I have so much to do. I need to make a few phone calls, meet with the property managers for a walkthrough tonight (not looking forward to that), mail some books to a friend who forgot them, move all my stuff to my girl's house for the weekend, and then move it all to my friend's house on Monday, repack once I have the other suitcase, organize a car to Heathrow....

I won't rest until I'm on the plane. Now I just have to take vitamins and get sleep so I don't end up with a cold on my flight... that will hurt.

5 days: My Last Night in Shoreditch

It was a beautiful sunny day. I woke early to get a head start organizing all the bits and bobs involved in moving. At 2:30, the movers came to pick up my boxes, and by 4pm my flatmate had moved out. Suddenly the flat was calm, empty, and a place I didn't mind spending time. I opened the windows to air out the cigarette smell my flatmate left lingering while waiting for my aunt to return my call, hoping I'd get to see her today. But I never managed to get a hold of her, and instead I spent the day throwing out trash, and moving furniture around in preparation for the cleaners and final walkthrough tomorrow.

At 7pm I had to drop off a dress I'd altered for a friend from work, and I went down to a shoreditch bar to meet with the Tent London folks. I do miss working in that office- even though I only worked there for a short time, it was a great place. I had a few drinks, talked about corsetry and moving in with my boyfriend, before heading out into the Shoreditch night. I went to the first chip shop I experienced for my last meat and chips bonanza, and walked through the heart of hipsterland, across the park, and into my crappy little council flat.

I do love it here. But as my friend keeps reminding me, San Francisco will be good. I will be with my boy, with friends, with family, and London is always here waiting for me.

6 days

I am 99% packed. I have some forms to fill out, but all my boxes save one are taped, marked, numbered and ready to go when the shipping company gets here tomorrow. My suitcases are nearly full and there is almost nothing left in this flat that wasn't here to begin with.

It's real. I'm actually moving. It finally dawned on me today when I removed the last colourful bits of "me" from my bedroom and pushed the furniture back into its original place. Suddenly the room looked stark and empty, and no longer felt like home.

I was rereading old blog posts this evening- particularly those written when I first moved to London. I was so sad during that time. I remember the knotted stomach and unbearable loneliness, and my heart sinking the moment I saw the dorm room for the first time. And now I'm sleeping in a room that no longer feels like my own surrounded by boxes and suitcases, again. It's not the same thing, but there are echoes in the experience.

My flatmate is moving out tomorrow. I am glad to see her go because things didn't go as well as I'd hoped- I think we will part ways with the sort of stories about one another in which we call the other one "absolutely insane". Ah well. I'm looking forward to one or two nights alone in the flat before I leave on Saturday morning to go stay with my girlfriend for the weekend. Then on Monday I stay with a dear friend in Camden before waking early to get to Heathrow Tuesday morning. I have so much to do- so many odds and ends to take care of- turning off the utilities, organizing the donation of my bike and clothes, dealing with the property managers and our cleaners, sorting out my bank, my cellphone and internet, trying to fit in a few final goodbyes with friends and family....

I will get it all done of course, but I just feel sad about it all tonight. I will miss so many people and so many things about my time here.

7 days

This time next week I'll be on a plane heading back to San Francisco, and will no longer be an American Redhead living in London- I am moving back to the states.

I am a little too overwhelmed with the practicalities of moving to spend time focusing on how I'm feeling about the move, but when I have a quiet moment between things I sometimes reflect on how differently I thought this London story would end.

If I'm completely honest, I hoped that at this point I'd be working on my final collection at Saint Martins and talking my way into fashion jobs. I figured the long distance relationship would have been more than I could handle and that I would be alone. I was sure I would be working toward *finally* getting that degree. I was pretty sure I knew who my friends would be at uni, and I was absolutely sure I'd be miserably lonely, focused on trying to become the next big thing.

The last thing I expected was to fail miserably time and time again, pick myself up and try harder than I've ever tried before, fail again (ad nauseum) until I decided to leave uni, and leave fashion. I never thought I'd find something I love and am good at, intern with designers, and talk my way into (hopefully) designing my first footwear collection for an amazing high end boutique store in London.

photo by Ben Hopper

I didn't expect to help organize one of the most fabulous costumed sex parties London has seen, or to meet some of the most amazing friends I've ever had. I surely didn't expect to not only maintain and significantly strengthen my relationship with my boyfriend, but to also find find myself dating an amazing girl as well. I hoped, but never actually believed, that I would end up growing more independent, capable, or able to handle whatever life throws at me. I've always thought of myself as a particularly weak person, and I think London has made me stronger in a lot of little ways.


As my left wrist now says in permanent black ink, "change" is something that will always define my life. This is just another rearranging of my situation, and it's certainly not a goodbye to London. No, I will be back as often as I can.

I do have a few regrets. I try to not dwell on things I might have done differently, or how I could have used my time better. I did what I did and I learned stuff. I am happy I came here, and proud of myself. I will miss people and places, but I go back to SF knowing I always have a home here in London. It will always be the place where I came into my own, on my own, for myself and no one else. It will always be a special place full of magical things and wonderful people to me.... yes, even when the weather is this shitty.

Photo by Jon Cartwright

I have much to do and many zzz's to catch up on, so that's all I'm going to say for now. If you want to see more stuff while I finish packing and curl up into bed, go browse my Tumblr.

G'nite.

Countdown

The ticket has been booked. I fly home October 12th.

No Rest for the Wicked

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Christmas coming early!

I feel like someone just told me it's Christmas. Two of my favourite people in San Francisco have informed that that they want to work with me. As if that wasn't awesome enough these friends also happen to have an outfitted workshop, space to make stuff, tools, knowledge, and have asked me to collaborate on some projects and events when I move back!

*squeeeeee

I have awesome friends :)

Reappearing Act

The ones you love most are always the ones you have the most tumultuous relationships with. It was that way with my very best friend through high school. She and I were inseparable, and we brought out the worst and best in each other. So when the tiny cracks between us began to widen, it was a dramatic, horrible ending. We haven't spoken in about four years. I knew that so much of our falling out was my fault, and I wanted to let her know that I was sorry. But I had no idea how to track her down. She had no web presence, I didn't have any phone numbers that worked, and we didn't have any mutual friends.

To me, she disappeared and was never heard from again.

Just before I left for London I found a blank profile on facebook registered under her name. She has a very unique name and so I sent a quick note just to see if anyone would respond. But no one ever did and the profile remained blank. I often wondered what happened to her. I worried about her. I hoped she was well and happy.

Time passed, I went to fashion school, my boyfriend and I became a proper couple, I moved to London, I went to CSM, I left CSM, I started a whole new life, I've made new friends, but she has often popped up in my thoughts.

Two days ago I received a response to that facebook message, accompanied by a friend request. It was her! (Turns out she didn't know how to track me down either, and never uses facebook.) She is alive and well and felt as awful as I did about how things ended. We both just want to catch up and hang out again, even if we can only do it via email for the time being.

To me it feels like she just came back from the dead. I am giddy over her sudden reappearance, and I've just hit Send on the first of what I hope will be many, many emails with my long lost friend.

One Tiny Step for Me, Hopefully Leading Toward a Giant Leap for... uh, Me

Whilst sitting on my ass at my job, having finished all my tasks, cleaned the store, restocked all the shoes, and listening to classic Bowie, I found myself thinking about how much I despise retail. Even on the best of days, I think, "I have got to make something of myself so I never have to work retail or food service ever again."

Spurred by the fear of amounting to nothing, I decided to pursue my boss (aka the head of the shoe design school) about an idea we once discussed over coffee. See, this mini school of shoe design also occasionally holds classes over in San Francisco, and my boss and I once discussed me helping her set up a more permanent school over there (think Stitch Lounge, but for shoes). She also asked me once if I wanted to be a teacher (this was after only making one pair of shoes, mind you).

So, I emailed my boss today to say that if she still wanted to pursue that idea we should sit down and have a discussion about how best to use the last year I am here. Should I start attending classes and being a teacher's assistant so that I can learn how to run a class on my own?

A few minutes before I sent the email, I got a serendipitous text message from the shoe designer I will be interning with, asking if I wanted to start playing with ideas and design next week!

All signs point towards better things to come!


I feel good. I really want to make use of my remaining time in London. Although I'd like to do everything (go to all the shows, travel all over Europe, live in every part of the city, see every thing, hear every band), the truth of my life is that I need to focus and really use this time to help me get a head start in a field I just jumped into rather suddenly. This is the sort of knowledge I will only get here and now- all that other stuff can come later. I'd rather be busy learning and interning, stressed with all the work I have to do, than have all this free time, a part time retail job, and depression creeping in at the edges while I sit on my fattening ass wasting the time I have left in the UK.

Returning to England

It's Friday afternoon and the realization that I leave in three days has suddenly hit me. I am starting to feel the stress that was so familiar to me this past year as I begin planning to leave The Boy and go back to London.

But this time is different from all the others. I am trying to balance out the familiar dread by reminding myself of all the good things about my life in London since I left CSM. This will be the first time I'll be returning to my flat and NOT the horrible student halls. It will be the first time I return without having to go back to another term at the dreaded CSM. In fact I am already looking forward to taking more classes in shoes, and seeking out an internship. I also have a job to return to. It is also the first time I'm returning with friends, events, and familiar habits waiting for me on the other side. So I need to keep reminding myself of this any time I start to dread my return to England.

My last year in England will be good. Remind me of this when I start to complain.

18+, Or My Visit to The Armory

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Hello Again, San Francisco. And How Are You?

I can barely see what I am typing for the sunlight shining through the window. I am obviously not in London as I type this. I am in fact sitting in one of my old haunts in San Francisco watching the weather change from sunny to rainy and back again.

I've been back for nearly two weeks. I don't know how time is passing so quickly. I avoided coming back to SF for nearly nine months. After the CSM debacle I had to take some time to flail and run in circles. I suppose I felt intimidated by the caliber of friend I have in SF. Everyone I know is doing something- usually something noteworthy. I admit it was a self-centered impulse, but I didn't want to come back having failed out of a world class school without something interesting to show for it. My friends wouldn't have judged me or even cared of course, but I would have found ways to sense judgment where it wasn't. This summer was a really shitty time for me and I needed the time to sort my shit out. And I did, through shoes.



I was chatting with my friend Kitty the other day and I found myself saying, "you pick 'your thing' and you do it and do it and do it until people start to take notice." That is what I need to do. Make design my thing and just do it. And do it. And do it. And find people who want to work with/for me to help me do it. I am re-inspired to take a look over my shoe design sketches and think about investing some time and money into prototyping.

Yesterday I tromped around Isotope Comics in reflective silver boots and drank gin and tonics with lovely people. The store owner and local supervillain James talked me up to his customers and friends as though I were a celebrity. Like I said on Twitter the other day (do you follow me on twitter?) "Sometimes you feel like you're with the band. Sometimes you are the band. And sometimes you haven't even heard of the band and everyone laughs at you." James is one of those rare people who can't help but make everyone feel like they are in the band.

So here I am, back in San Francisco, missing London, but feeling like I never left this city. Of course I did leave. And I will be leaving again on the 25th and returning to England, which currently looks like this:


(thanks to Mr Ellis for the picture)

Though for now, I'm just going to enjoy my bitter coffee, served to me by a bitter barista, in a dirty cafe full of surly people.


And now I leave you with a photo I took in Chinatown.

A Bit of Bragging

A few funny things about my life:

I've had three Christmases. One on the 25th with my aunt and uncle and cousins and extended family in Cambridge. On boxing day I ended up having dinner with Terry Bedford, who shot Monty Python and the Holy Grail. We all talked about vintage comics, shoe design, film, and the future of advertising. Terry and his wife are absolutely lovely people with amazing taste in art.

The second Christmas was on the 30th with my mom and her boyfriend and it was chill and filled with cookies. The third Christmas was on the 1st with my boyfriend and his daughter, and was filled with Legos and silliness.

Three Christmases! I must be making up for all those years I didn't celebrate at all.


Our new years eve plans involved going to a party with a space theme. The Boy and I had to come up with costumes other than my silver space girl outfit. So, I did a quick google images search for "space girl" and guess what showed up on page one?



It seems that photo I took with James Courtney has made the rounds. I've been approached by many people who want to buy prints, and been recognized as the silver space girl on more than one occasion. Of course this is all well and good, but I was a bit put out because yaknow, I already own that outfit and I was looking for NEW inspiration. ;) (Oh and if enough of you go bug James about that photo, he will start selling prints or postcards at Wicked Grounds.... so go bug him!)

And speaking of Wicked Grounds, it seems a that post cards featuring this photo (also by James Courtney) have been on the shelf and selling out:



If you want a photo of the naked American Redhead then go buy some before they all sell out.


And now I must crawl into bed and attempt to ward off this plague I brought with me to the new world. *cough *hack *death

Looking Back

Rereading my old posts this evening I have noticed a few things. First, I think it is safe to safe that I have had a really tough year. I wanted London to be an exciting adventure, and instead it has been an absolute trial. But the second thing I noticed is how I have changed so much since I moved here nine months ago.

In my reading I ran across this entry, entitled I Hope Nostalgia Makes This All Seem Better dated 18 November of last year. I talked about hoping that I would look back on that first term when I faced my fear of failing and think about it as a good ol' learning experience. Turns out that the learning experience I would look back on would be an entire year of consistent failing and fighting and picking myself up over and over again. I had no idea what was coming for me.

I had no idea that I would learn to accept failure and get over it quickly. I had no idea I was capable of being smacked down so many times and getting back up again. I had no idea what hard work really was in fact.

I had no idea that the hard work would not pay off. I had no idea that the school would be run by rule-enforcing monkeys who see in black and white. I had no idea that CSM would in fact turn out to be a fantastic school for students who already know exactly how to do what CSM wants. I had no idea that I would learn so much DESPITE CSM and not BECAUSE of it. The girl who wrote that entry would never have guesed that she would be so fed up with the bullshit at CSM that she would secretly be glad they were throwing here out so she could pursue other interests.

I had no idea that I would ever be able to get an internship. And NEVER would I have guessed that I would have the presence of mind to choose to stay in London and seek out opportunities instead of going back to the comfort of my boyfriend. The girl that wrote that on the 18th of November had no idea about anything.

And yet despite all of it, I still struggle with many of the same things I always have. The long distance relationship is still incredibly difficult for me. That has not gotten any easier- in fact it has gotten more difficult the longer I stay here. I still face the same hurdles when I get stressed out. I still struggle with feeling insignificant and untalented when faced with the talented people I study with. I am still prone to fits of utter hopelessness and despair when faced with an impossible situation, and I still find myself being unreasonably furious at The Boy when he isn't there to give me a hug and calm me down. I still find that although I am MUCH better at taking criticism, I do not have a sense of confidence within myself that will ever match the strength of complimentary words from others.

It if for all these reasons that I know I am not ready to leave Europe. I am not the person I want to be when I return home. I am far from it. But someday maybe I will get to look back on this year and find that nostalgia will allow me to see the value in the experience.

It wasn't a total waste.

The Truth of It

Last term my boyfriend and I tried to open our relationship to other people. It was my suggestion, and he agreed because we both hoped it might make the distance and loneliness a little softer. Long story short, it was a short-lived disaster that nearly ended the relationship. It became a source of heartache and incredible anger. It amplified the loneliness instead of softening it.

When we agreed to close the relationship, it was because we remembered that the drive behind this venture was love; was wanting to make sure the other person was happy and taken care of, even if it was someone else who was giving them that happiness for the time being. We opted to try an open relationship because we thought it would make loneliness of the long distance relationship easier to bear. And when it seemed that it was in fact making the loneliness even less tolerable, the answer became clear. Choosing to end the experiment was simple because we remembered why we began it in the first place.



So why am I in London?

I am in London because I wanted to be my own person. I am in London because I wanted to grow and change and evolve into the woman I want to be, instead of shuffling down the more comfortable path I was on. I came to London because I wanted to grow a spine. I wanted to stand on my own two feet. I wanted to make something of myself and come back to the US with an honest understanding of who I am and what I am made of. I wanted to have grounding in myself, trust in myself, and maybe a tiny bit of confidence, however small. I came to London because I needed something bigger, something more than San Francisco in order to do all of this. I needed to see what life was like without the safety net.

None of that has anything to do with the university that is going to kick me out.

I finally remembered that CSM was not my reason for coming to London. It was the means of getting me here.

I forgot that somewhere along the way. Like the open relationship experiment, I had to remember why I began this venture in the first place. I had to realize that this trip was never about becoming the next McQueen or Galliano. It was about becoming more of myself. The hope was that the challenges presented by CSM would facilitate that, but perhaps CSM is a small and insignificant test of my will when you really think about it.

There is so much more to fashion, to London, to England, to Europe, to the world, to my own story than CSM and the year I spent struggling to please people who could never be pleased. There is so much more to life than this. And I spent this weekend remembering that.

Looking back on this last year I can begin to see that Central St Martins was never the reason I came to London. It was the catalyst that allowed me to begin my own life. It was the carrot I dangled in front of my own nose so that I would continue walking ahead.

Of course with the carrot unfairly snatched away from me, I am hysterically running in circles in blind panic. "What do I do now? What do I do now? What do I do now? The carrot is gone, I have nothing to live for."

I am slowly beginning to see that I need to stop spinning and look at the race I am running. The carrot got me here, but "here" is what was truly important.

The truth of it all is that I came to London to learn. Not to learn to sew and not to learn how to make pretty sketchbooks. The truth of it is that I came to London to learn about life and who I am. And frankly CSM was keeping me from that. I moved half way around the planet to be here and face myself. To face my weaknesses and grow stronger. To face my insecurities and learn to stand solidly in the space I occupy in this world. To face my strengths and learn how to use them.

The decision to stay in Europe and seek out life despite CSM is an easy one to make when I remember the reasons I began this adventure in the first place. The truth of it is that I came here to face myself, change myself, and hopefully become myself.