A few months ago, I got my second commission for a custom “Denim Jacket Do-Over.” A sweet friend of a friend in the dairy world, Carey Alberg, asked me to make something inspired by her sparkling tween daughter, Grace. It took me a while to decide on a design because Grace has a lot more to her than just the dairy farm aspect. She’s also spunky, loves to dance, and is sort of obsessed with Hamilton. Plus, her grandfather’s dairy, Ronnybrook Farm, produces some of the greatest ice cream ever, which pretty much makes her royalty in my book.
The story behind my Sister-In-Law’s bespoke bridal ensemble.
Here are a few photos and a poem from an especially magical high desert sunset over my family's farm in Central Oregon.
Be it our media our our mothers, there's no shortage of resources conveying the idea of beauty coming from within. One way or another, we've all heard that it's what's on the inside that matters.
The same applies to clothing.
In my experience, there are two types of artists in this world.
There are the conceptualists. The ones who wield their arms about and plan together over cold Starbucks coffee in shiny conference rooms. They tend to be the ones who make money.
Then there are the hands-on creators. These are the ones with greasy hair and difficult, or to be kind, whymsical, dispositions and a preference to work on their own. Their coffee might be cold too, but they probably brewed their own.
It's been one year since Ieft for London. Here's a collective account of my summer interning abroad.
Last week my mom and I took a mini excursion to Cannon Beach, about 90 minutes West of Portland, Ore. The sun surprisngly was out, the wind less surprisingly was also out. We didn't stay long. As we were walking back along the ocean to the car, we saw a family of geese who were also having a family outing at the beach. Momma Goose, Papa Goose, Brother and Sister Goose.
A Guest Post 'a la Ma' -- From fashion shows to fashion school, I've written a lot about the "designer" part of my life. You've read about days exploring New York City and seen pictures of models in fancy clothes. Well, surprise! There's a lot more to my life than all of that. I actually grew up on a farm in Central Oregon and my parents were high school sweet hearts.
March 5, 2018 — Fred is Dead. And so is my head.
There has been an unfortunate turn of events for both Fred and myself.
A bit more unfortunate for Fred than the latter, however, so we’ll devote our attention in his direction first.
Meet Ashley, Helen, Ridhema, Nicole, and Tiffany, and see our different interpretations of the same assignment.
Today markes the second week of my second semester, and I thought that before I get too caught up in my new classes, I’d like to share my classes and projects from last semester to help demonstrate what some of that “stuff” is all about.
Red lips pressed up against a ribbon mike and a waxed mustache puffing on a harmonica against a white tile wall. At first I hear drums, tap, tap, tapping to the jazz band’s tune, but an opening in the crowd reveals the tell-tale silver flashes from dancing soles shoes A girl with checked accordion pleats and a feathered cap spins a crescent moon around a man with fiery red hair and a Windsor-knotted necktie.
I’ve only just stumbled off the train, onto the crowed subway platform at 96th street and into the swinging big-band age of the 1940’s.