Taylor's Marilyn-Inspired Birthday Dress with a Side of Honesty

So here’s where I’m at, from a very non-medical front. Here’s a simple dress that I actually struggled with. A lot. Here’s a long blog-post about suffering and not about an exciting adventure around the world with pretty people and tasty food. Here’s a glimpse at some cracks in my heart. Here’s some honesty. And I hope, here’s a safe place for anyone who’s suffering to feel like they aren’t alone and maybe even to share. Whether it’s in the comments below,  private message, or a phone call to a friend, you may be surprised by what a little imperfect, mad, or seemingly ridiculous honesty can do. 

Grace's Custom Embellished Denim Jacket

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.

Brew Your Own -- Tools from Susan Khalje

One class and one meal with Couture Extrordinare, Susan Khalje

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. 

Cabin in the Woods

Time doesn't exist in Cascadia, a tiny memory of a town in Oregon's Wilamette Valley where ladies in pointed shoes and gentleman in tall hats used to flock to drink the spring water in the 1930's. The trees are so tall, the light that does filter through feels eternally like sunrise, with air that is damp, and smooth, and new. A handful of cabins line a winding street, with blackberries twining out the windows of abandon cars and smoke puffs rise from tin chiminies. 

The Long, Long, School Bus

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.