With the departure of my boss, and the impending arrival of a new Group Managing Director — and consequently a busload of people that he is reportedly tooling in with — I’ve gone back to thinking about my next step in my working life, as my personal life appears to be at an epic standstill and therefore not worth salvaging. I had recently put it off, driven by an odd attachment that has developed from meeting certain people whom I actually like and can bear to work with, and a sense of accountability for the things I do here, that I haven’t felt since my days of pseudo-teaching in Boston. But I’ve come to realize that no matter how guilty I may feel for upping and leaving this company, with the unlikely possibility of a replacement who can speak, read or write in English, there are some things we simply cannot afford to hold on to.
And so I’ve begun revisiting ideas for the next phase of my career, where I want to go, what I want to do and how far it can take me that I will be able to really make good of it. And last night, I was able to add one more option to the list:
Taken from Thesis Week at Parsons School of Design, New York
I’m surprised I never considered it sooner. No doubt my mind is not as open to the possibilities as I’d like it to be, because whatever I wanted to do that involved fashion — after deciding at the age of seventeen that fashion designing is out of the question because I can’t do more than sew on my own buttons — also only ever involved writing about it. But thanks to the list of 25 Dream Jobs, sent to me by a friend who is currently undergoing a career transition, it dawned on me that since I love fashion, and I love to shop, why not get paid to do it?
The bane of my wardrobe has always been my build, which has greatly limited my options when it comes to shopping — no smocking, no elasticized sleeves, no scoopnecks, no spandex, and all big, all blowsy, and all empire waist. So it may not be such a bad idea for me to transplant all the ideas I put together in my head onto people who are about two feet taller and six sizes smaller than I am, and who will be able to pull them off better. And these days, with the eroding lines between seasons and collections — pre-season collections, capsule collections, collection collections, for everything from haute couteur to shoes to lingerie — and designers recycling and revamping styles several times a year, the task of dressing women of different shapes, sizes, age groups, and even colors, is a challenge in and of itself.
This will obviously not happen overnight — or, in fact, happen at all — as I have neither the background nor the experience in this field, except for the clothes on my back and the shoes on my feet, and the hours I log reading the fashion and style sections, blogs and magazines. But a girl can dream.