The Velvet Tart: It's a Real Thing Now!

One morning I woke up and was like, "Today I will launch my sewing career. I have talent, and I need money. I want to do what I love." Then I began writing a business plan, revising my logo and banners, and collecting photographs of my work.

That was 2 weeks ago. I consider this an improvement on the 2 years until now that I've been "planning" entrepreneurship. This morning I actually did it. My business plan isn't quite finished, I don't have any ready-made stock in the Etsy store yet, but I still went FUCK IT WE'LL DO IT LIVE. Because I am Fearless!

dammit, I don't have a bunny suit.

I am super excited and super caffeinated and super, utterly terrified. Which is different from being Fearless (I'll explain later). Which calls for the best of cute memes:

optimistic hedgehog is optimistic!

Thanks, li'l bitty hedgehog. I will do all the shit.

Begin at the Beginning.

The weather is finally warm and staying warm in Minneapolis, and it feels like my creative mind is starting to thaw. Maintaining the status quo at the Haus of Manna has been paramount to the (relative) sanity of both of us over the winter. 

Is it over? **4 inches of snow** (repeat until May)

We made it! And the house stayed mostly tidy! And I started writing my business plan!

Oh yeah, started a business plan. I figured it would take one evening and a glass of rum to knock it out, but that was before I spent 3 hours researching business plan writing technique. So I work on it a couple of hours a few nights a week, and I feel like that's alright. One of the most challenging bits so far has been crafting a Mission Statement that encompasses all my myriad interests into 24 words or less (the hyphenated word counts as just one). 

Mission Statement: I will tailor and create items that give expression to the clients' ideal selves. With sensitivity and ebullience I help communicate their personality and body-confidence.

Yes, I am actually using the word "ebullience". It means "cheerful and full of energy", which is exactly how I am when talking clothes with a client. After I've had morning coffee. And lunch coffee.

Coffee is the only thing keeping both of us alive right now.

Writing the business plan means I've had to look at and analyze the entire big picture of how I want to run my business and it makes me ultra-uber-really-really-terrified.  I've never operated officially as an entrepreneur, will I be able to succeed? My time management for projects in the past has been horrendous, and I'm scared of failing, disappointing clients, and tarnishing my reputation. Even though I've improved my discipline, and even finished several projects on time recently, the past is still my little black rain cloud.

Except my rain cloud isn't cute and doesn't sing and doesn't like honey.

However, I can't deny there is a persistent feeling that this is what I have to do. Sewing is what I love to do, and the enjoyment my clients take from my projects encourages me. Having a Mission Statement reminds me of my ambition, and reading it feels like a self-affirmation. Keeping up my motivation and self-esteem may be the most challenging part of starting a business. I hope that I'm not the only entrepreneur to feel this way.

wink wink. You know what I mean?

Percolator: Out With the Old, in With the....Same Old?

I always look forward to Christmastime--no, it's not the only holiday, but it is the one that fostered all this consumerism, nostalgia, and vacation days in December. I love the decorations, the twinkly lights, the food, the family, the coziness, the bare branches, and the long darkness.

There's also a lot of excitement about greeting a New Year and re-learning how to write the correct date on things. I hear/read, "Fuck 20##! It needs to be over already!" often around this season. Everyone's gearing up to begin anew, start over, reset, or

C:/>CD/

Everyone wants that clean slate, the full calendrical potential hanging on the wall underneath photos of baby animals arranged in flower pots.

One of them is pooping. right. now.

However, it really doesn't work that way. January 2015 is just....January. The start of a new cycle, only without Robin Williams, or Robert Schug, or Bill Young. Money is still tight, congress still has its head up its ass, hearts are still broken, being black is still bad for one's health, and I cannot fathom being happy about starting another year with those circumstances.

POTUS betta WERK!

Additionally, I don't want to banish 2014 summarized as another shitty year. All years are shitty in certain ways. More states implemented marriage equality, Michele Bachmann resigned from congress, President Obama wore a fucking tiara, and I don't want to shove these events into storage in the musty warehouse of my brain, stacked on top of a box marked Ark of the Covenant.


My personal recap of 2014 includes moving into a rickety house with my best friend and throwing fantastic parties. Repairing clothes, altering dresses, and making several great costumes for clients as I tried to get a sewing business started. I enjoyed every day I spent time with my Dad, Mom, and Stepdad. I went on some lovely dates, kissed some delectable people, and even had a sweet boyfriend for a few months.

No way am I going to banish a year containing all those memories. On the other hand, NO WAY am I going to passively allow more of the nasty crap to seep into my life. I probably won't succeed in the latter, but I'll keep trying, no matter what month it's turning.

I'm not excited for 2015. There, I said it. If any of you, my cherished readers, are ready for this upcoming re-do, I do wish you a Happy *Next* Year.

Approximately 5/8th of my cat's life involves
finding a warm hooman and snoozing with them.

Ren Fest 2014- Opening Weekend

A recap of each weekend posted here for posterity, for reflection, and for to share the joy.


Opening Weekend: Highland Games (resulting in lots of kilts and bagpipes, both of which I greatly enjoy)

-Saturday was full of greeting Village characters that I haven't seen in the better part of a year. It was satisfying and comfortable to walk around the site once again.

-Performed with Sef as "The Homewreckers" in the first round of Vilification Tennis. We came out strong, and lost our match with dignity. I could feel the difference a year of improv and comedy made in my stage presence and connecting with the audience.

-Our afternoon gig, participating in the Mead Social as the peanut gallery of jokesters and storytellers ended up being great fun. Charles Sutter, Winemaker, gave a naughty limerick where he cuts himself off instead of saying the final rhyming word; "clitoris".  At the back of the crowd, Merry chimes in with, "...her arras?" "What?" sputters Charles. "It's a curtain." Merry explains, as our troupe explodes in laughter, further confusing everyone. When we perform Hamlet, Polonius is stabbed through the "arras" (a rich tapestry, in truth), which the troupe mistakes for part of human anatomy during the show.

-After hours, I sat with friends inside a delicious, air-conditioned trailer to trade stories of our first day. Even managed to have a few good conversations amidst the cacophony of the Tavern-turned-dance-club. Teamed up with friends to assault the Porter with back scratches, temple rubbing, back and hand massages. Because he deserves it, after putting out First Day fires for 12 hours.

-I discovered how much fun it is to share my ice cream cone with friends. As each took their taste, I smooshed the cone onto their face for good measure. One Puppet Troupe girl licked the extra off the other Puppet Troupe girl's nose.

-Sunday's first show ended being a speed-through of "Goldilocks and the 2 Little Pigs". It took longer than expected, because the troupe and audience couldn't stop laughing at the ridiculous situations.

-We had an extra performer for the next fairy tale, so we performed, "Hansel & Gretel & Steve". Steve ate all the breadcrumbs Hansel dropped, so the other children let the witch roast him first as a diversion before shoving her in the oven.

-A shop worker called me in off the street to ask for a taste of my ice cream cone. He might have been just flirting, but I stepped into the shop and smooshed his share onto his face. His buddies crowded in the shop erupted with glee! "You earned that," I quipped, and smiled sweetly before taking my leave.

Neighbor is Building an Ark--Is That Bad?

It has been raining in Minneapolis for almost 3 weeks and it feels like it's been gray and wet FOREVAR. The saving grace of all this angel-snot is that everything is starting to turn green. The muddy yards are green, the treetops are green, my herb garden is green...

Wait, no, my herb garden is brown and soggy. Nothing has sprouted because there hasn't been any sunshine. I can't grow plants with thunder and lightning, Mother Nature!

I am this close to just pre-sprouted cheaters!

It's been cloudy and chilly, which saps my energy. I actually took a nap between this and the last paragraph. Even after drinking half a pot of french-press coffee, I just needed to be horizontal and unconscious. For 2 hours. ugh.

I just...I just need to lie...here...for a bit...

Motivation to work on sewing is scarce. I want to go sew, I think about sewing, I remind myself how happy I am when I do sew, I walk into the living room intending to sew...and then the couch swallows me up and I just end up binge-watching True Detective. Cozy things like knitting and naps and staying inside a blanket cocoon seem like such better ideas in place of working. I wish I could get paid to wrap myself in quilts and eat hummus and watch endless BBC America programming. But watching Ripper Street gives me ideas for costumes, and I start thinking about fabrics, and I feel the stirrings of creativity in my brain...

One more episode. Gotta finish this story arc.

Let's be honest. Blaming my procrastination on the weather is not gonna fly. I'm not getting paid to permanently imprint my butt into the couch cushions, I'm getting paid to make things. Which means putting on my big-girl pants, buttoning up my entrepreneur-shirt, and doing my hair in a getting-shit-done-twist. I have found the best way to help myself move on from crap feelings is to acknowledge them, feel them, and then say goodbye to them. Then jumping around a little to get my energy up seems to help, too. So here goes:

I know I feel sluggish because of the gray days.

I feel gloomy, I have moped, and indulged the Blerch** for long enough.

I am done with sluggish, mopey, gloom. I'm ready to be productive.

I'm going to go jump around now.

**The Blerch was created and is described here by The Oatmeal.

Humble Pie Tastes Crap.

It's ok, Meatloaf says, "Two outa three ain't bad".

You know how the saying goes, "You can have it good, fast, or cheap; you can only pick two". Last week I had to drop the "good", and the result was "bad". Quite bad. I was frantically making costumes for a show; my first attempt at professional costume design. Now, I do judge my work harshly, but calling it "bad" wasn't a product of my hyperbole. My client straight-up told me how awful these costumes were; told me how my lack of professionalism and shitty time-management screwed over the show. That sounds kind of mean--except for the fact that it's all true. If I manage to book any future clients, I owe it to them to learn from this clusterfuck. I owe it to myself to break my bad habits.
Working really hard to get something done and knowing that it's still not going to be good enough sucks balls.

MICE can do it better than I can?! RAGE QUIT

Okay, pity-party is over. Who likes reading list articles? I love me a good list article. Throw in some fun pictures, cussing, and plenty of kitties--click-throughs shoot right up. Writing about this embarrassing, devastating experience as a light-hearted list hopefully will take away the sting of failing so miserably. So here is my list of

THINGS I LEARNED WHILE FAILING AT COSTUME DESIGN

1) Sketch, sketch, sketch. To get a solid idea of how a costume will be built and how it will look, you must sketch. A lot. Because how a costume looks effects several other factors; lighting, set design, costume changes, movement, combat (if you're lucky), and overall theme. The director has an idea of how the show will look, your costume ideas had better line up with that. 

There's crazy in my creativity? It's more likely than you think.

2) Make mock-ups for large costume pieces first. When somebody puts on something you made; something that matches up with all the measurements you carefully took, and it doesn't fit, is really discouraging. Having to take the costume back, disassemble it, adjust it, rebuild it, or even...kinda
fudge it into looking better burns up your time and is just fucking frustrating. Make adjustments
at the beginning of the process. Do the largest/most complicated pieces first; to make sure they
get done even if you run out of time. The actors need as much time as possible to rehearse with
large-slash-complicated costumes. Because...

Even Dior had to make mock-ups

3) It's hot on stage. Yes, the costumes have to look good, but they also have to be some degree of comfortable for the actor inside them. This actor is embodying somebody else; remembering script, cues, choreography, costume changes, exits, and entrances. All of that is ever harder to do if they are roasting under the cans. Simplify and fake the structure at every possible opportunity. It also cuts down on the amount of work you'll have to do. Back to your Sketches!

She burst into flames, but they gave her a standing O for it.

4) Meet a deadline? Tell director. Miss a deadline? Tell director. Directors love communication. They have to keep pretty much the whole production in mind while they are directing. The stress of juggling all of those balls (heh, juggling balls) is exponentially multiplied if you can't add your ball in when it's expected. Keep the director up to date, in the loop, whatevs; so they won't have to waste time chasing you down to check in. If you're running behind, they need to know that, too. Swallow your fucking pride and tell them what you can do to make up for lost time; the director may even shuffle some crew around to get you more help. There is nothing wrong with accepting help (as long as they can manage to not sew their fingers to the costume). 

I drew a blank for a helpful picture. So here's a kitteh.

5) Efficiency throughout costume changes; a mixed bag. If you plan the costumes changes carefully, you may be able to streamline your workload. Reusing or concealing pieces means less things to make, and less time to change. However, building the costumes to be changed in a hot minute takes some clever engineering. Also, testing. A lot. of testing. You don't want a snap popping open or a velcro strap giving out at the wrong time.

Even Dame Edna's wardrobe malfunctions were classy.

6) Collaboration happens, whether you want it or not. The director will give you feedback (because they're the director). The actors will also have feedback; because they have to wear whatever monstrosity you've created. It's important to not take it personally, because it's about the costume, not your skill. Feedback is not about just the costume; directors and actors discuss entrances, exits, costume changes, accessories, props, character development, and script--and you have to be there for all of it. Maybe a costume gets cut, or ensemble is changed; it's still not personal. It's part of the job; listen to
everything laid out so you can glean the info you need to improve the costumes.

"Hm...not what I had in mind for Rum Tum Tugger..."

7) I should probably get some training. When it came to the actual process of designing costumes for a show; I was in over my head. I wasn't even aware I was about to drown. The job isn't just designing and sewing costumes; it's about you helping the director to create people. The show is a world inside the theater, the costumes become possessions of the characters; stains, patches, tears and all.

The day-to-day process of designing costumes isn't a piece of cake, either. You've got to use your resources to procure all the correct clothing to be used. Sometimes you build it, sometimes you buy/borrow/rent it. Sometimes you delegate certain tasks to other people. You must stick to the deadlines for each phase of building; making sure every actor is has a complete costume. You also have to keep track of costume changes, when they happen, how they happen, and make sure the director is on board with all of it. Sounds exhausting? It is, and I didn't even do it right!

Tim Gunn be like- Corduroy? Really?

I didn't know any of that shit. I had hoped I could just pick it up as I was doing it; by way of osmosis for the routine of costume design. Pretty sure it doesn't work like that. If I can assist a real costume designer to watch and learn what is actually done, I'll be way more comfortable trying to design for a show again.

DONE

The Velvet Hammer (it's not what you think)

I've a rough mission statement for Velvet Tart. Just to sum up what Velvet Tart is about in a few short paragraphs. Plus I'm totally going to copy+paste parts of it to Etsy, FB, press releases, or graffiti.

"no...let me sum up: a mask is not an accessory."

THE MISSION OF VELVET TART

I want to make clothes and I want to change clients’ self-perception. I believe self-confidence is the foundation of feeling beautiful. I want to help my clients to feel beautiful: their self-love is reflected in their clothing choices, they have self-awareness and control over their appearance. I don’t want them to just be beautiful—their clothing a facade to hide behind, a role to perform that can be removed or invalidated. 

Also, vanity-sizing. FUCK THAT. Both women and men should know how to shop for their body, rather than paying any mind to the arbitrary numbers and letters tacked onto clothing. My tailoring and consulting services can teach clients what looks good on them individually, rather than stressing about clothing-rack navigation.

Also, bullying. FUCK THAT. As much as I'd like to, I can't punch shitty trolls through the internet. I can, instead, give my clients encouragement and education to speak up against those who would tear them down. Online and in reality. I can add VT's voice to the growing number of businesses who do not tolerate that shit. I can write about it; from resources to retorts against the stupids. 

Also, (any)-shaming. MAJOR FUCK THAT. Also related to encouragement and education of my clients: speaking up against fat-shaming, skinny-shaming, queer-shaming, slut-shaming; whatever kind of guilt trip your boss/aunt/pastor is trying to give you. My bespoke clothing services can create garments custom-fitted for the size and lifestyle my clients wish to have. They will be supported and accepted; and encouraged to support and accept themselves.

 AND MENS: You too, can be beautiful creatures.

Body acceptance. I believe the healthiest thing for men and women is to accept that their body is the only one they’re going to have. I wish they would appreciate their bodies for the individual features and unique beauty they possess. Desire to change one’s body should be an internal decision made with healthy goals in mind (which are various). Change should not happen because of pop culture, peer pressure, and current beauty standards. I want clients to have clothes made to fit them; instead of trying to make their body fit the clothes. 

FINIS

There it is. I will probably edit and refine the mission statement further; I prefer my thoughts to mean as much as they can with as few words as they can (efficiency!). I'd like to know your thoughts, my cherished audience. How do you define feeling beautiful, in contrast to being beautiful? Why do you think I address the body acceptance issues of men along with women? Does anything need to be clarified? Can I have more validation? Validaaaate meeee!

Snack Time!

Last week I promised to release my mission statement for my sewing business, my services and my pricing. That didn't happen. To me, it's just another blown deadline, in a long, long....(really damn long) history of falling short of my goals.

To you, my gorgeous readers, it's probably confusing. Maybe even disappointing. It definitely shouldn't be surprising; still, I do apologize.

Sew! Today I give you a tiny teaser of the name and logo of my soon-to-be sewing venture. My target audience has "a sense of humor, a touch of glam, and a streak of cheeky." I introduce to you:

That sassy vixen is me! Let me style you!

Velvet Tart: costume & couture. I created the name sometime last winter, with the help of my then-husband. It's been waiting in my brain all this time, and after a summer of brainstorming type arrangements, I ended up indulging in my own vanity. I am the mischievous dame winking and smirking my way into your wardrobes!

The colored squares comprise my color palette, and are not represented very well (I used the built-in camera, sue me). Starting on the left they are: a bright salmon, navy, this warm purple that's sort of 80's, and a sunny, sherbet-y orange. I used color theory, friends.

There it is! More on Velvet Tart to come; but it's now 8:08 am--I'm late to start sewing! Story of my life.

About that..."time management" thing...yeahhh...

It's a little embarrassing that the day after I make a determined, proud pep-talk about how I'm going to get my shit straight....I dive right back into that hot mess. No sleep + costuming + skeletons + sewing + math + microwave burritos = body temperature drop and unexplained crying jags. So I went to sleep. Lots.

This evening I caught up on a pile of computer work I've been neglecting and applied for a couple of jobs. One was for a cake decorator position. I have always loved watching and fantasizing about being a cake decorator. You get to draw, paint, and sculpt in frosting! How could that possibly be awful? It can't be awful--because CAKE! Besides, I've seen the tiny sculptures those kids on Cake Boss have made and I know I have way more talent than that. Disclaimer: I don't want to be a cake decorator just because I obsessively watched all the Cake Boss that Netflix had.

It's because I watched all the Ru Paul's Drag Race Netflix had.
All those ladies were serving confectionary realness. Can't you imagine some Queen's bustier pattern all up on a cake? With glitter and jewels and eleganza?!

While I'm waiting for the cake-painting job offer, I'll finish costuming for which I was commissioned for a play next week. My time management for that has been crap, so I'm way behind. Lucky for me, the director is sympathetic, resourceful, and forgiving. We teamed up and scoured his costume stock to reduce my workload. Making the masks for the last vignette has been delegated to a cast member who actually makes masks, thankfully.

I'm feeling more confident about finishing my work for these costumes, now. However, I'm stuck with a lot of extra fabric since I won't be making as many things. It's nice fabric. Bought for Edwardian/Victorian costumes. I think I may just know what to do with it....

I don't know where I meant to go with this entry, but I'll end it with this: Friday I intend to drop my business mission statement, list of services, and pricing on this blog. Photos of past work and an Etsy shop to follow, hopefully finished by this weekend. Check in tomorrow--I'll be open for business!

There's dreams...and then there's dreams.

My dreams have become weird. I'm already pretty weird to begin with, and recently my dreams have even been off those charts. Last week I dreamt that I had to help a Japanese water god have a baby. First thing, this Japanese water god is like, 30 feet tall. Next, how the hell does a male spirit squeeze out a baby? I'm on the bank of the river, and I have to search through a codex of different types of spirits to figure it out. When I find the entry for water gods, the description comes with an illustration of exactly how water gods deliver their babies. It's anally. I have to help this giant water god deliver a giant butt-baby. ugh. It was a girl, by the way; so that's how weird my dreams are.

I am not going to write about those types of dreams today (anymore). Instead, here are my dreams for being successful in the very near future. Hopefully before my next student loan payments.

I will get more work. It's hard out there for a ronin artist; one can't just be the production department, one also must be the sales, research, marketing, and payroll departments as well. Also: taxes. However, I know I have talents that people actually need today: tailoring and graphic design. These talents can also provide what people actually want: costumes and pretty pictures. Now, I have the free time it takes to focus on promoting my work, as well as actually completing it.

I will promote my work. Part of getting the word out about your business is just straight up showing it to people. I am really critical of my graphic design and I often get caught up perfecting the most specific details that the layman consumer doesn't need. I also forget about how much costuming I've done over the years; even if they weren't perfect items, they were learning experiences. Downplaying my talent and passion for making clothes isn't helping anyone!

I will make and keep job schedules. My time management is crap. That's how I lost my job. Ask any one of my friends, and they'll tell you how it's pretty much the norm for me to be running a little late. It's never surprising when I'm running super late. I put things on my calendar--then promptly forget them (then wtf is the calendar even for?!). I think this is going to be the hardest item to follow; I basically have to change a core personality trait and learn to follow a routine. This is one of the reasons I'm blogging daily now (yes, it's only been 2 days, shush).

I will eat healthy and get enough sleep. These two items pretty much support all the previous ones. Good food and good sleep improves one's mood, energy, brain function, and ability to follow a friggin' schedule. I'm not on a diet, but I don't exercise very much. So I'm pretty sure I don't need those 14 servings of Cheez-its at 2:00am.

I WILL HUG YOU ALL 

It is a proven fact that platonic affection is a basic human need (no, I'm not going to cite sources for you, google it). It's not a luxury or a preference, it is something that people need to thrive. I'm not an affectionate person normally. My friends respect that, and acquaintances learn quickly about my personal bubble. However, the isolation is starting to wear on me. I am craving human contact and that's rather uncharacteristic of me. But I am, and I'm okay with that. My sweet and joyful Aunt Holly reminds us every time she visits Minnesota that hugs are necessary and loving. Holly gives wonderful, welcoming, warm hugs (woo, alliteration!). So I'm taking a page from her book; I will hug you all. My affection often takes the form of a swift kick to the shin, or jab to the solar plexus if I'm close enough. But now, hugs will not be my way of getting within range; it will mean that I'm happy to see you, and enjoy your company. You know, like a real person. 

#5. I am undecided if I have screwed up my life irreparably.

I wrote the post's title on my Facebook yesterday as I was filling out some meme about "# of things you may or may not give a shit about but you're still going to read because there's no one else posting at 1:00am". I wasn't trying to be clever (for once), I truly don't know if I've made everything FUBAR. Debt, depression, divorce, unemployment (damn, I wish that last one was alliterative), I started wondering if there was a certain point where I could have turned it around; stopped barreling towards the edge of something beyond which I can only see empty space.

Then I cleared the edge (read: lost my job by my own fault), launching out into the air, trajectory unknown. All the fear fell away then, because fear didn't matter. Anxiety and grasping for control were no longer options. I'm in mid-air now, marveling at the space around me, a new perspective that is astounding and terrifyingly brilliant. The rushing wind flaps my clothing, my hair stings as it whips about my face, the height I'm hurtling through takes my breath away. I am hurtling. Towards the ground. Fast. I'm falling, I'm going down! I'M. FALLING. DOWN.

...When I am upset, I want it to stop. To make "upset" stop, I talk to myself; and ask why I am feeling this way (it's ok, manna), what caused this feeling (that's life, manna), and most importantly--what can be done to change this feeling (let's fix this, manna). Once I can identify a logical solution, I can begin to move away from upset. Sometimes, I can't get a hold on a solution; instead I acknowledge my emotional state and give myself permission to wallow. But only for a little while. Wallowing for too long has and will lead to depression, and depression lies. It's easier to get up again when I'm not scolding myself for falling down in the first place.

Falling down....where have I heard that....oh shit. I'M STILL FALLING. I never should have made this analogy because falling usually ends poorly. I still have time, though, and space, between me and the ground. All of my past experiences will lend to my actions in this moment, and that's how I know I will survive. I feel it in my bones; I have the skill and fire and speed and joy (what?) to recover my stability and brace myself for the future.

Life, prepare for impact. 'Cause I'm gonna hit the ground running.

...how? (Fuck if I know. I'll tell you tomorrow.)