What Have I Been Up To?

Both the boy and myself were sick over Thanksgiving, and as such I didn't work out for two weeks and instead spent considerable time laying around watching movies. I also started a new Tumblr while I was feeling sorry for my sickly self. I have hundreds and hundreds of pictures of shoes laying around, and I realize that they aren't doing me much good if I don't tag and archive them to create a reference book for myself. Thus began the joy that is Shoe Pr0n, your daily dose of interesting footwear design, curated by yours truly. New stuff posted daily, sometimes with commentary or history.


Despite having to take those two weeks off my workout regime, I'm losing weight. I'm about 4-5lbs lighter on average, and my measurements are slimming down bit by bit. My natural waist which was at 32, is now a little below 31, and ideally should be around 30 or lower. It's nice to feel like I can wear waist belts and not look thick and icky anymore.

My oh-so-super-seekrit design job is going well. I'm a little frustrated with my own limitations as a designer, as they are doubled by the limitations placed upon me by the sort of job I'm doing. Additionally, I'm not a good artist and I feel a little ashamed about my inability to draw what I want quickly. I've worked my ass off at uni, but never before have I been expected to create new designs every day. It's a bit stressful, and I can feel my brain wanting to rest. But then I think to myself, "holy shit, I'm being paid to design clothes and shoes! FORREALS!" and the happy shock of the situation urges me to shut up and get on with it.

The funny thing about this job is how my ego is coping with it. I am of two opposing minds almost every day. On one hand I have complete confidence that I know what I'm talking about, and have opinions and knowledge worth listening to. On the other hand, I doubt my ability to back those opinions and knowledge up with actual skill. There is also a bit of fear as this is the first time I've ever worked inside a semi-corporate structure as a designer and it means that I get orders from on high without ever having presented or defended my work and ideas. I know I have advocates showing my work on my behalf, but it's unnerving to not be there to present it myself. All I get is 2nd hand feedback, and marching orders. It's just a bit unnerving, and it reminds me of the day I applied to Central St Martins when they took my portfolio away from me and judged it without me there. I don't think my work speaks for itself, and my drawing ability certainly doesn't do anything to improve my case, so I feel I NEED to be with the work in order for it to make sense. But that's a very amateurish way of thinking. I'm no longer in school and no one cares about my sketchbook and inspiration. They want content and innovation without artsy fartsy bullshit.


I've been dressing up nearly every day (yeay for a job where I can wear heels) and I've rediscovered my passion for trying different looks and silhouettes each day. I've also found that my consistent immersion in the fashion world has once again awakened my appreciation for design far beyond the scope of my paycheck. It's becoming dangerous.


So that's more or less what I've been up to.  Working, working out, buying shoes, posting on Shoepr0n, playing video games (I finished Fable 3!) and missing London a little.

On Working Out and Complaining

A bit of a row started on Twitter the other day when I whinged about hating doing cardio, but being glad that my bmi was going down. A number of people reacted very angrily to what I thought was a playful complaint followed by an upbeat "however". So let me respond to the unexpected drama my comments seemed to rouse:

If I am uncomfortable with the weight that I am currently at it is not a crime against feminism, or a sign that I am giving into the skinny-model-ideal bullshit. It simply means that *I* am not pleased with how I look in clothes right now. I have never fit into the fashion model ideal, nor do I aim to. I do not want long, super skinny legs with no hips or butt. I'd rather look like a J. Scott Campbell girl any day. ;)

I ask that people not jump on me for wanting to lose weight. I really do appreciate that some people believe "you're perfect the way you are," but I feel within myself that there is room for improvement. Whether or not you agree with me, I would rather be supported in this decision than attacked. It's not like I'm having random cosmetic surgery here- we're discussing regular exercise and healthy eating. There is nothing negative or harmful about what I'm doing. I am addressing my insecurity and taking steps to improve the way I feel about my body by becoming a healthier, fitter person. Tell me, where the harm is in that...?

I see nothing wrong with admitting that I feel unhappy about the way my body looks when I am taking steps to change it. That should be applauded, not condemned as "giving into insecurity" or "against your feminist ideals". I've gained over 20lbs since moving to London and it's time that comes off so that I can feel confident and healthy.

Additionally, if I choose to work out, it does not in any way reflect upon *you* or your choice to work out (or not). Just because I have exercised for a week doesn't mean I look down upon you if you haven't! There is no holier-than-thou going on here- I am simply trying to get back down to a weight I am happy with.
Something about trying to get healthy makes people assume that I am becoming a health nazi. I'm not. I'm eating nutella on white bread as I type this. NOM NOM NOM.

So please, in future, when I am complaining a little about how much I hate running but like losing the weight, I would ask that people not take it personally. MY choices have nothing to do with them. I am taking healthy steps to change something I don't like about myself and I think that should be applauded.

Thank you!
R.

Tubby

This week I began working out in the mornings with my boyfriend. He's been at it for months, whereas I've gained 20lbs since moving to London.

This pretty much sums up my feelings each morning:

.....Oh.

After years of exercising in one form or another, I had a realization today. Gym class teachers don't yell at you to keep going because they are disappointed in you, they do it to motivate you to push yourself.

That seems pretty simple and basic, but somehow I never quite figured that out. In my head, every time a trainer, a dance teacher, or anyone else yelled at me to keep going I felt I was falling short of their expectations, disappointing them, or making them angry.

My brain is a weird and twisted place to live sometimes.

Leather, Friends, Pilates, and Awesome

My life is a nice mess of extreme emotions right now. My friends and my internship give me extreme (often creative) highs. For example, today I hemmed and hawed about leaving the house to go to my leather supplier. I needed to source some fabrics for my mentor and also pick out something for my evening shoemaking class. But once I left the house on a mission, I was so happy I could barely contain it.

It's so warm out today it could reasonably be called hot. It is sunny and clear and breezy. I walked along the canal and stopped to have a coffee and slice of cake by the water, while I read The Ethical Slut.

I then walked up to the new East London Overground (it opened today!) and took this silent, empty, smooth running train all the way to the docklands where my supplier rests in a cool warehouse stacked high with leather of every kind and colour. I wandered in, the owner recognized me, bantered with me, and secured his role in my life as Creepy Uncle Malcolm, the sex deprived leather supplier with a heart of gold.

Another example: last night I had dinner and drinks with my favourite redhead and we have planned to take some creative classes together, organise a craft weekend with our girls, go see some culturally educational shows, and all sorts of fun creative stuff. It's the best way to combine my favourite things- sexy friends and art!

Oh and another example: I've started taking classes at Frame and I'm becoming addicted to pilates. I can push myself, avoid hurting myself, and for the first time in my life, work my abdominals to the point of being in pain the next day. I'm so committed I've even scheduled an 8am class tomorrow just so I can get a workout in before I go to my internship.


What else.... oh, well this isn't a creative thing, but I have another piercing planned and I've decided I'm brave enough to do it. I think it's also a way of processing some difficult relationship stuff- pain, piercing, improving myself....

I am so in love with London sometimes. I have good friends, I have professional connections, and it's just plain awesome. Today just feels awesome. My feelings might have something to do with the raspberry mojito I'm sipping as I type this, but still.... awesome.

No Importance

An announcement of no importance:

My flatmate N and I took part in a guided bike ride into the center of the city today. We woke at 6am, rode our bikes to the meeting point at 7am and have been out riding around ever since. Six hours later, we were both surprised to find that we were TIRED.

I rode my bike for SIX HOURS!


Go me!

Celebrate

I find myself at home with a sudden head cold (no, it's not swine flu, for the last god damn time people!) and sitting in bed with little to do but drink tea and bemoan the fact that I'm not out celebrating right now.

So what do I have to celebrate, you ask?

Today my flatmate and I learned that our application for a flat in Hoxton was accepted! And not only that, but we both decided that we hated the student dorms so much that we opted to move out sooner than we originally planned. Instead of September 5th we are now moving in to our new place on August 10th. Yes, I am mere days away from a double bed, a bath tub, a real kitchen, and a living room. Can you believe it? I still don't. I am still skeptical, and sure that something will go wrong. It is too good to be true.

I've lived in a lot of different apartments, but I have always rented a room in someone else's flat. It didn't seem right to leave my stuff in the rest of the house, interrupting their routines and habits. But now? Now I can create my own living habits and my stuff can be anywhere! I can do logical things like make a place for my DVDs in the living room! I can leave my sketchbook and paints on the table without fear of being in someone's way. This is huge for me, you see. I finally get to occupy the space I have and make it my own.

Secondly, and in some ways more importantly, I would like to formally announce that I have decided to leave Central Saint Martins School of Shit and Bollocks.

This, I believe, warrants a drink. A toast, even. Raise your glasses if you will to the end of an era and beginning of another, far better one.

When I found out that Evil Tutor failed my latex project (despite telling me it was good all the way through the process) I made up my mind that I would not be returning to that awful sham they call a university, regardless of whether they wanted me to repeat 1st year or move on to 2nd year.

Words cannot describe how incredibly happy I am to be free of that place.

For the first time in years I feel inspired, eager to learn. Eager to make my own way, to go out into the world and absorb information. I want to do everything, create everything, experience everything. I feel free. I have no solid plan, just a good solid feel for the direction I want to head in. And that is liberating.

Of course I can't deny that CSM is a good name to have on your degree. Those three letters will open a lot of doors for a designer. Though, point of interest, I have come to realize that it will also close doors.

In making the decision to leave the school, I came across an interesting phenomenon in the design world. Being able to say "I graduated from St Martins" is great, but there is a certain respect I get when I say that I studied at St Martins only to realize that the reputation wasn't justified, and chose to leave. Funny, that.

In case I haven't made it painfully clear, this is not a school that will teach you anything, least of all actual, technical skills. Now I know that we all love the idea of simply drawing out a pretty sketch and handing it to someone else to make, but frankly that is bullshit. You need to follow through. True artists of any kind need to understand their materials, their craft, their process.... and often those things will inform and change their design. Half the stress/fun is in the process of trying to make one of your designs and seeing how it changes and becomes better.

The reason I got my internship with my awesome design mentor is not because I went to CSM, but because I studied at a technical fashion school and have a background in theatre and performance. I even said in my initial letter to her that "despite hailing from St Martins, I have not yet had my love for design or theatricality beaten out of me." She knew exactly what I meant.

My point is simply that there is something to be said for knowing how to make things. Any things. Whatever sort of things you want to make. And if you want to learn to make things, then St Martins is not the place to be.


So raise one more glass to the end of St Martins. And give Evil Tutor the finger for me, will you?

In the meantime I am looking into community college classes while I consider other universities. And should I decide to attend another uni, I have decided that the classes I take will not be in fashion.

I need a break.

But I also have a good solid foundation in fashion now, and it's time to start expanding outwards. In order to do this I am devoting four or five days a week to my internship to learn as much as possible from the designers I work for. And when I begin taking classes again, I want to learn to work with other materials so I can incorporate them into my designs- plastic, wood, metal, etc. I want to work in anything besides fabric and learn anything except fashion.

More shoe making and design courses are already queued up (more on that later), and from these classes I have also developed a rather subversive plan regarding my future shoe designs. See, a friend of mine at CSM asked if I was planning on continuing to learn how to make shoes, and if so, would I design and make the shoes for her final show at St Martins. I of course said yes! See, this way I get to have my final 3rd year show at St Martins by putting my shoes in the show, right under the nose of Evil Tutor and all those other fuckers who told me I was shit. BWAHAHAHAHA <---evil laughter and mustache stroking

Hell, if you've managed to read this far I think you deserve one more drink. Raise your glass one more time to the closing of a miserable year at an all-consuming, pretentious, and useless school, and the end of a year living in a moldy, tiny, uncomfortable dorm room.


Cheers.

Finally

I am incredibly sore from working out today. It feels great. I feel healthier than I have in months.

Today: cardio workout, homework homework homework. Going to bed early.

I Gave Myself a "Stress Concussion"

It's taken a very loud emotional breakdown to show me that there are people who want to be my friend. That doesn't seem terribly logical, but that's the way it went today.

I made myself physically ill from stress today. I was so angry at my project, I couldn't be quiet about it. I was trying to keep it in but my work was awful and I was so stressed and pissed off that I finally announced I was starting over (2 days before the deadline). I couldn't seem to be consoled, I was too mad at myself.

After two hours trying to rethink my project, I noticed I had a headache. I figured it was time for a cup of tea and something with a little sugar in it to keep me going. An hour after that, my headache was so blinding that I couldn't focus my eyes, and every time I moved I started shaking, lost my balance, and felt faint. I tried to let it pass, or to walk it off, but I felt like I could barely move.

I've given myself three concussions in my 23 years of life, and this headache felt very similar to a concussion headache. I gave myself a stress concussion!

While I was sitting at my sewing machine trying to work, a lot of people came over to try and help me come up with ways to make my garment work. I got a lot of hugs, and a lot of encouragement. I couldn't really appreciate it as much as I should have, but I did notice how people came out of the woodwork to check on me, and that helped me feel less alone in my moody little world.

At 7pm, I felt so awful I could barely stand up, so I slowly packed up my bag and told my tutor that I had to go home because I felt faint. I slowly walked to the tube station, keeping my eyes focused on where I was putting my feet, trying to not get jostled by the crowds, because I thought I might fall over. Thankfully I got a seat on the tube, and I stared at the floor until I got to my stop. I carefully, purposefully walked home, trying to will myself not to pass out.

By the time I arrived home, I was a mess. I tripped on the stairs twice. I dropped my new phone because I couldn't balance while looking at a screen. I tried to cook myself something to eat so I would stop shaking, and had to hold onto the counter to not feel like the world was spinning.

It's times like this when I wish I was home, and I could call a friend or a room mate to help me. But I managed on my own, and made myself some hot oatmeal. I crawled into bed and spooned the food into my mouth ungracefully.

And that's when I got a text from one of the girls in my class. She said,
"hi, I hope you're okay. I was a little worried about you when I left. But you know if you want to get in early tomorrow, we can have coffee and look at your dress and work out wot to do."

I texted her back and thanked her and apologized for taking my stress out on her in class. I said that I would love to meet early tomorrow for some brainstorming and that I would buy the coffee.

She wrote back,
"Ok. I just don't like seeing you like that, especially when you've produced something so interesting and beautiful. Have faith in yourself. See you tomorrow for design boot camp, hehe!"

I also texted a "thank you for being so kind to me, and I am sorry that I was so emotional in class this evening" sort of text to the couple of people who helped me when I began to fall apart this evening. And they all wrote back that they totally understood, that they hope I feel better, and that I could call them if I needed anything.

Of course people say that without meaning it a lot, but I know that at least two of them do mean it. And I appreciate it so much it's hard to say.

By 8pm I was almost asleep. My head was pounding and I was just trying to breathe deeply in my dark room and let it pass. I must have fallen asleep because I woke at 11pm, thirsty, but much better.

I'm going to crawl back into bed now and try to sleep the rest of this stress headache off. But I feel a little calmer, even though I wasted an evening that I should have been working on the project, because I know that even when I am moody and stressed and at my wit's end, there are people who are willing to give me a hug.


(Oh, here's a photo of the fabric treatment I did for this project. We had to use white cotton and white felt ONLY, and so I have been working with the white felt, wetting it, stretching it, creating a lacy pattern of holes before hand gathering sections of it to give it some body and texture. There will be a collar and sleeves and some craziness at the bottom too, this is just a photo of the fabric pinned up on the dress form to give me some ideas.)

Alright, now I'm going to crawl back into bed.

Gym!

I just splurged and bought myself a gym membership at a small gym 15-20 minutes from my house with a pool, pilates and yoga classes, and a sauna. It's a bit pricey, but I want to try it for a few months and see if I can get myself there a few times a week. It's a nice place, clean, well-lit, and according to a classmate that works out there, it's rarely crowded. I handle stress a lot better if I work out on a regular basis, so I figured if I was going to splurge on one thing for myself this month, this should be it. I even passed up some amazing high heeled boots so I could do this (and if you know me in person at all, you know that this redhead NEVER passes on expensive footwear).

I am going to try to fit a few workouts in next week, because I know I'm going to be a girl-shaped ball of stress come Monday.

And now, back to work. I have an essay to finish- I'm writing about Francis Bacon and the Polanski film Repulsion, and using them to discuss isolation in London. Then I need to finalize my wreck of a dress for the fashion show and find a new model (my model just flaked on me). No rest for me....