Dreaming

I've officially begun to dream about school. I dreamt I met with my tutor to discuss my grade.

If that's the best my subconscious can come up with, then I need to get out more.

White Project: Sorted.

I am exhausted in ways I didn't know you could be tired. My kneecaps are tired.

Today we presented our all-white project to the tutors for a critique. We had to present our book of sketches, research, and design development, finished illustrations, and the garment fully styled on a model.

Due to a mysterious mishap and a cranky tutor I found myself having to present an hour earlier than I was scheduled, and it was a rush job. I didn't know what to say or how to present. But I joked around a little and talked honestly about what I did and didn't like about my work.

My tutor, who up until today seemed to really dislike me and my work, was surprisingly friendly. He didn't give me much feedback, but didn't say bad things either. Nothing particularly good, nothing particularly bad. We just sort of chatted in front of the class about my piece. He did say he liked my illustrations, which was a relief because I tried my hand at painting for the first time in my life ( CSM hates literal fashion illustrations, which is what I have been trained to do, and have been trying to steer clear of). Go me.

I learned so much from these last few days. The most important of which is that I have figured out how I need to approach a project to get the best results:

First of all, once I have picked my broad topic, and researched into it a lot, I need to find one or two very specific things to work from. I need to narrow my focus, quicker. Pick a topic, expand, pinpoint desired theme, focus in and go for it.

Second, at every step of the process, I should be thinking about my final product. What is the overall mood I am trying to create with this project? Do I want a tall skinny model, or am I making a point by choosing to put a short old woman in this dress? What do I want people to see? I need to think about accessories, makeup, hair, etc. From day one, I should have these questions in the back of my mind.

Third, go to school. I mistakenly convinced myself during my time at FIDM that I work best if I'm at home alone. This is just not true. I need to go to school. I spent the last week and a half at school every day from 10am - 8pm. I had people around me, technicians to answer questions, friends to help me sort out problems, and hugs when I got so angry I swore I was going to drop out. Going to school is best. I'm so glad I figured out that it's a good working environment this early on in my time at CSM.

Fourth, do what I love, but keep it simple. Do not mistake that statement to mean that I am going to play it safe. But I realize now that I stepped entirely too far away from my personal aesthetic during this project. I appreciated the novelty of it, but it was incredibly difficult to spend that much time and money on something that didn't really feel like Me. I want to stretch my style, and try new things with each project, but I think that I need to base my designs in what I love and what I do best. That way I can expand out from there, instead of flailing miserably out in the middle of nowhere with no tethering to anything concrete and personal.

And fifth, I realized how lazy I can be, and that I have to combat that inclination with all my might. I can be tired, cranky, confused, hesitant, whatever... I still need to get things done. I found that it gets easier with practice, doing things despite wanting to sit at home and surf topshop.com while watching a movie. If I can just get started and find a rhythm, I can work for hours. I just have to force myself to start.


So I feel that I can do a lot better on my next project, which we will be briefed on next week. I think our holiday homework will probably be researching topics for the next project. I will just be glad to be rid of this one and onto something fresh. I am not sure how I did on this project to be honest. But I am cautiously optimistic about my marks. I don't think I failed this time around.

I am not happy with my project at all. But I feel that I have a much better sense of what CSM and my tutor want from me. I feel that I grew a lot as a student, and that I pushed myself to try something new and very difficult. So although the final product isn't to my liking, I am a little pleased with myself.

I cannot believe it's done. I have two fashion shows to deal with next weekend, but this was the hard part. I intended to go out tonight, but I might just stay in, put on The Young Ones and go get some take away curry.


Photos, updates on my marks, and general news, coming soon.

Catching Up

It's been a long time since I've been wide awake at 2am, curled up in a warm bed, laptop against my knees. Or maybe it was only five weeks ago, but my life in San Francisco feels so distant now. I can recall all the places and people that pieced together my life there, but somehow life is completely different nowadays. Well, not completely different, I suppose. It is somehow still exactly the same while being entirely new.

I meant to write something on October 20th to mark my One Month in London anniversary, but I recall the 20th consisting of a very emotional evening after a very tiring day. Had I been in a more optimistic place that night, I would have toasted making it this far with a mini bottle of champagne and a single champagne glass. But I was not in that headspace, and there will be plenty of other dates that will be more significant in the future.

Some friends from California just emailed me to say that they are in London for the next few days. On top of my friends in Poland coming to scope out apartments, I also have SO MUCH to do before The Boy comes to visit me in ten days. And all of these social engagements are going to have to be worked around a very big homework project that is due on Friday. As I discussed in an earlier entry, I really have to work hard on my next couple of projects to make sure I don't remain at the bottom of my class. This project needs to be Good, as in the Capitalized G and italicized variety of "good". I will not get up in front of this class and present another project that I feel the need to apologize for. I refuse the suffer that humiliation again. So this week I might not be posting much.

It's 2:30 exactly and I am starting to regret that delicious cup of coffee I made at 6:00 after two failed attempts at an afternoon nap. Why oh why can't I be the napping type? I could get away with so much more late-night drawing sessions if I could just nap every now and then. I envy people that are good sleepers. Like beauty or brains, there is a gross inequality of good sleep amongst the human race. Someone should see to that.

2:33, and I am starting to feel a hint of sleep at the corners of my vision. I might be so bold as to suggest a yawn is imminent.

Yep, that was a yawn. I guess that's the sign that this redhead needs to unplug and shut down for a few hours.

Good night dear silent readers, whoever you are. Like my favorite Central Line train operator says on Friday mornings, "please remember to take all your belongings with you when you exit the train. And whoever you are, where ever you're going, and whatever the weather, have a lovely weekend and stay safe."

A Few More Fabric Experiments

Today I went into class feeling like shit. I didn't get any great ideas from all my drawing and painting last night, and spent the better part of the evening having a really difficult State of the Union discussion with The Boy that went until 2am.

I had decided to run with the theme my teacher suggested (peacocks) and to my dismay, I'd come up with nothing I liked. I painted, I printed, I did hideous things to fabric all morning long. Finally I decided it was time for a coffee break. Nothing takes care of your woes like some caffeine, and a few people asking if your quiet morning is the result of sleepiness or something more. It's nice to feel cared about, even if it's just a casually friendly classmate's kind of caring.

I came back to the print room wanting to try something different. So I stopped drawing literal illustrations, and began crumpling up fabric and smearing dyes around until I got something I liked.

The results of these experiments used the colors I kept pulling together for my peacock illustrations, but used them in a less obvious way. And when I smoothed out my crumpled fabric I was reminded of origami. And while talking to my new favorite gay boy, I arrived at the conclusion that I wanted to do menswear tailoring with my brightly colored fabrics.

So I took out a book on origami, a book on menswear, and a book on Pucci (just for good measure) and I'm trying to work from there.

Here are my favorite results from today's experiments in Heat Transfer Printing:

My original test that inspired my new theme:


A follow-up test using a sheer fabric and overlaying fishnet:


A variation of my colors and print method:


And lastly, I shoved this fabric into what used to be a fishnet stocking, tied it up unto a ball, printed it, squished it in another direction, printed it, took it out of the stocking, squished it and printed it again, and did it once more for good measure:



So, yes... peacock colored origami menswear-inspired womenswear. We'll see how it goes....

A Little Lie.... A Little Help, Please?

As the words came out of my mouth I believed them for a moment. "I hate it here," I said quietly before punching the letters into a chat window and hitting Enter.

I don't hate it here. And I am not homesick. But something is making me feel awful right now. I cannot focus. My apathetic attitude is worrying. I just want to float free and ignore life.

The funny thing is, I really don't want to move back to San Francisco. I love London, despite the weather, despite being broke, despite not knowing where I am, or where to go, or how to get there. I love this city and it feels like I was supposed to be here.

But at the same time I feel so lost. Something is missing, or something is wrong. And I don't know what it is, but it's making me toss and turn all night, and walk around feeling drugged all day. It's making me feel like I'm wound too tightly and might explode, yet I can't make myself care about anything all that much. I am hesitant about being too brave. I am excited by feeling terrified. I am miserable and broke and not sure how I'm going to buy groceries and drawing paper tomorrow, but I'm happy and looking forward to classes. I am lonely and desperate for companionship, but happy to be spending so much time in my own head.

I am incredibly confused. How is it possible to be so unhappy and so happy at the same time? How can I love living in London and hate my life here at the same time? What is it that I want and how do I fix whatever it is that is making me so panicked and sad?

What is going on and what the fuck do I do?

Going With the Flow (of Drinks)

It began innocently enough as a trip to the supermarket to buy dinner fixings. But on the way it was suggested that we get a drink at a local pub and scope out the Friday night scene.

My favorite room mate and I found a not-too-busy pub in which we could have a pint (we seemed to favor anything ending in "berg" or "bourg") and observe the Brits in their natural, drunken state. Drink had, dirt shared, boys avoided, we began to head back home to buy groceries and cook dinner. But on the way we passed a little park next to the church that some satanist had designed and decided that we wanted to see this strange structure in the park (it made me feel the need to read From Hell again).

At the entrance of the darkened park a small group of young guys were taking a smoke break. As we passed one of them immediately said, "you two alright? Know your way around and all that?" His friendly tone was warmed by a charming Irish accent. We appreciated his concern, introduced ourselves, and spent a good half hour smoking with Irishmen in a darkened Satanist's church park on a Friday evening.

During our initial search for a good pub, my room mate and I had noted a funny little underground bar that used to be an underground toilet, we think. It looked a little dodgy though, and had avoided it. But turns out our new friends were taking a break from a birthday party being held at that very bar. So a few minutes later my room mate and I were underground, doing tequila shots with cute Irish boys and a very drunk birthday girl (whose name I never did get, oops).

You know you're in England when people comment on how your smile is nice because your teeth are even. Lucky for me that they are, because I smiled a lot that evening as I got progressively drunker and enjoyed the attentions of a number of very sweet boys, while dancing with girls I didn't even know.

Very drunk, and still without dinner, my room mate and I stumbled home around midnight to scavenge for food in the kitchen. I began to eat some yogurt, a piece of ham, and a toaster waffle while she sorted something out with another student in our building. While I was waiting for her I decided that I needed a glass of water to stop my head from falling off my neck. But my Brita filter was all the way in my bedroom. I slowly shuffled down the hall, grabbed the water filter off my desk, and that's when everything changed. See, I spotted my bed. And that tiny little uncomfortable mattress has never looked so good, so welcoming, so comfortable as it did in that moment. I downed the water and collapsed onto my messy unmade bed. Next thing I knew, my room mate was at my side giggling and pulling my boots off.

"Wait, no, I must have stinky feet..." I mumbled.

"I don't care, stupid," she said and pulled my boots off.

"Wait, I have food on the table. I nee-"

"I'll take care of it. Here, drink some water, get some sleep." She handed me a glass of water, kissed my cheek, threw my quilt over me and closed the door.

I mumbled "thank you," as she left, but I don't know if she heard me.


Best. Room mate. Ever.


And so ended my first Friday night drinking in London.


My head hurts...

Exhausted and Slightly Downtrodden

I cannot seem to sleep. I think it has something to do with sleeping alone in a tiny bed after years of being in a queen size bed with someone else. My restless nights are compounded by regular fire alarms in the building at all hours. And then last night a mirror fell off my shelf, smashed into a plate on the desk below and sent my makeup flying around the room, shattering into the carpet. I wanted to go back to sleep, but it wasn't mean to be.

Sound travels down the hallway, and every morning a few of the room mates' more piercing voices find their way to me as they prepare breakfast in the kitchen. Sleeping in rarely happens on planet Redhead, but a little sleep would be nice right about now.

Zzzzzzz five more minutes, Mom....

Anyhow, my summer project presentation was disheartening, to say the least. I knew I hadn't gone all out for it. I knew I could have made presentation boards and painted pretty pictures. But I didn't. I was focused on the emotional havoc caused by moving, and when I arrived here I arrived with no art supplies and no fabric. Art was not high on the to-do list, I'm afraid.

But when most of the class pulled out collaged books of photographs and fabric experiments, followed by books of illustrations and test runs on mannequins, or fully painted renderings and beautiful hand made fabrics they did themselves.... I realized that I really need to step up my game.

I have never before been at the bottom of a class. I've always pulled an easy A, or at least an easy high B. But sitting in this classroom, watching everyone else present their beautiful work and all the research and time and effort they put into it.... I was ashamed to get up there and show my crappy little sketchbook. I turned red, forget everything I wanted to say, made a few excuses, flipped through a couple pages to show my thought process, and stood there to meet the blank, bored stares of my classmates and professors.

"Do I really want this?" I asked myself. "Am I cut out for this?"

And then I asked, "am I really so lazy that I'm not willing to work my way up to the top?" This program is going to be hard for me. I suppose I am used to my work being "pretty good" on average. This program is going to be quite a trial, I think.

I am not so competitive that I need to be the best. But I refuse to be the worst. I have got to pull out all the stops and dive in. I need to do things that are not fun or easy for me. I need to establish that I am not the lazy American girl that presented a shitty project the first day of class. I cannot let that first impression last. My next project has to be amazing. It has to be fucking incredible.

But on the bright side, I suppose I have nowhere to go but up. If you start at the bottom, your progress is more noted, more obvious. If you start at the bottom, you have the opportunity to blow them out of the water someday when they least expect it.

So I guess I just need to stop distracting myself and focus. Focus entirely on my courses, and not on running home to chat online, or wandering around high street looking for a jacket and a pretty lamp. From here on out, if there is any chance that I could reach higher and push myself harder, I need to do it. I need to focus on school. I did not come here to sit around online like I did back home.

And I need to get some sleep.

G'nite.