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?

James's Secret--a short fiction

Jimmy squeezed through the attic crawlspace, coming back fifteen years later into the dusty cavities of the rooftops. The smell was familiar, the dust was familiar. Jimmy sneezed several times to clear both from his nose. His eyes watered, but through the film he was already searching for the spot.

He was certain (well, certain as one can be of a fifteen year old memory) that his treasure-spot had not been discovered.  He would have heard about it. People would have come to him, with questions--or accusations. In the musty dark his gaze settled on a slightly darker area cut into the far attic wall. Jimmy was on all fours, he bent his arms and craned his neck to see deeper into the treasure-spot he had crookedly cut into the wall seventeen years ago.

Before.

Jimmy stared into the hole. It was still there. It blinked first.

The Funny.

There is some dark stuff in this post. There is also some lovely stuff. I hope it balances out.

Sometime late Sunday night or early Monday morning, Robin Williams ended his life. Something was happening to him where he felt there was no better alternative than to die. All the things that could be listed as good parts of his life, career, and reputation didn't fucking matter. For Robin, they probably hadn't mattered in a while. Depression lied to him and convinced him there was no way out of the Screaming Dark, no way but one.

No, I didn't know him. I've never met him, corresponded with him, nor have I any reason to grieve his death over the loss of life statistically happening constantly around the planet.

Still, I grieve.

I can't remember the first time I saw a Robin Williams film, or if I saw him as Mork or doing stand-up, he has always been a ubiquitous, hilarious component of my childhood. My brother and I watched a lot of movies on the Friday nights during Mom's weekend to have us. As much as we bickered about everything else in life, we could always find a comedy that we both wanted to see. So we watched "Hook". Then we'd watch it again first thing Saturday morning.

Slapstick and sword fights? Yes please.

We saw "Toys". It was entertaining enough for kids, sure, but a lot of the absurdity went over our heads. That's why I love watching it now, though; discovering jokes I was too young to comprehend.

Half the time I couldn't even pick up on the plot.

Seeing the film, "Jack", was an absolute--solely because of the name of the lead actor. The scene of Jack exploring in the yard is a brilliant piece of acting. Watching Robin act the child made me realize how astoundingly talented he was. Robin gave Jack wonder, gentle curiosity, and sheer delight that shines in happy children. The movie was not a comedy, but how could a person not be captivated by a character such as Jack?

Ugh. The feels! All the feels!

Becoming a fan of black comedy was like arriving at a great party where I knew everyone and felt completely comfortable. Plus Robin Williams was there. "Death to Smoochy" was this roller coaster ride of hilarity and piteousness. An awkward vignette of the shiny & new replacing the worn & old plays out in the context of children's television entertainment. Naughty things and bad words happening in a "sunshine zone" seemed refreshing, relevant, and perfectly wry.

It's a thin line between "wacky" and "psycho".

I didn't care for the whole Heaven and Hell thing going on in "What Dreams May Come", but I loved the idea that everyone's paradise and punishment is formed by their self. Another dramatic film where Robin's performance inspires both delight and devastation. The pain of the characters really is sourced from the depths of the actors. 

An oil-painted world really is the best heaven, though.

I can't imagine the absolute desolation his family & friends feel now. I can't even begin to conceive how Robin himself felt on the Last Day, nor on the days, weeks, and months preceding. This was a man who, even though he loved his family, career, and comedy, couldn't manage to stay alive one more day.

...

Within all that craziness, the energy, the hilarity, the imagination, and the inspiration the real Robin sits in the center of it all--Prospero conjuring sprites and storms. He was hurting and couldn't reach out for help. That's something a lot (a LOT) of people recognize in themselves, and losing yet another soul to the Screaming Dark is demoralizing. Considering so many people have been that close to killing themselves, to have been so entirely overwhelmed with even just the natural state of existence, it is terrifying.

 So now I grieve. My heart is broken because a truly brilliant, funny, kind man suffered and succumbed to an insidious disease that I fight and help my friends fight every day. It shouldn't have to be like this. But it is like this. I will never never never give up. There is a hole in the world where a dazzling, gentle, hairy, genius actor should be, and a deep deficit of comedy potential. I can think of nothing better than to always always try to make up for that deficit with levity, wackiness, hijinks, and dick jokes.

That's how I feel. My Facebook feed is choked with people expressing their concern, their sadness, and their shock at the suicide of Robin Williams. I will not apologize for adding one more missive to the queue.

And if you don't like it, why don't you go suck on a dead dog's nose.

Frosted Goofball. Om nom nom.

Tailor Fitted: The New Standard for Your Clothes, Not Your Shape.

Tailoring should be accessible to a wider variety of client. Providing quality tailoring at a lower price point will hopefully re-establish well-fitted clothing as a fashion standard. The truth is that I’d rather have my work making people feel and look dapper more than marking up its cost. I want everyone to be able to afford tailoring. I want to change the public opinion that tailoring is expensive and snobby; instead it should be seen as a wise investment. It’s a step I can help my clients take towards loving their bodies, liking their clothes, and discovering their personal style.

“Fast fashion” sells junk that loses structure, wears out, and falls apart if you look at it funny. Cheap, quickly-made clothing that doesn’t look good on almost anybody. It’s not supposed to look good on almost anybody; it’s supposed to convince you to spend money. As a result, if so many people spending so much money on crappy clothes, that’s exactly what the market will supply for us. Pretense and schmatte (Bubbie wants to know why you’re spending good money on this schmatte. You can’t even clean the windows with those rags!).

In my head, Louise Nevelson is my Bubbie. 

Off the rack clothing doesn’t fit most people, tailoring is necessary. It’s become common knowledge that mass-producing clothing retailers design their clothes to fit the impossible fictional ideal of women’s and men’s bodies. Then the design is sized up or down; seemingly done by an Apparel Department intern just clicking “OBJECT > TRANSFORM > SCALE > +120%”. Boom, larger garment. Repeat with negative percentages, then take an early lunch. In the real world with real bodies, scaling a design requires math (like that algebra crap from high school you thought you’d never actually use), a knowledge of human proportions, and a good eye for adjusting the construction and details of a garment to look best on a body different than the original pattern. This last skill is quite rare, necessary for good fit, and was voted “Most Likely to Be Utterly Disregarded by the Industry” in the Fast-Fashion High School Year Book (Yeah, I made high school an analogy about the fashion industry. Suck it up, cupcake).

Having a garment tailored is going to make your unique shape and proportions look fab in comparison to wearing off-the-rack. Sometimes your boobs will peek out from between a strained button-up. Sometimes your wide shoulders will hike your suit jacket into your armpits. Sometimes your waist says, “size 10!” while your booty’s all, “size 14, honey!” and your legs chime in with, “petite misses, yo”. But fast-fashion doesn’t plan for that. Tailoring is your back-up, because the final goal of having your clothes tailored is to make you look your best. Not somebody else’s best, fuck that guy.

You want to dress how Lagerfield wants you to dress?
Don’t trust the opinion of a dude in love with a cat.

Shopping with an eye for your proportions and visualizing tailoring potential are good skills to develop. Trying to find just one fucking pair of jeans that doesn’t gap at the small of your back is exhausting. No one gets excited to go shopping anymore; it’s a chore. It’s an exercise in disappointment and embarrassment and that is bullshit. However, a little education and a teeny-tiny tape measure can go a long way in helping your dominate the shame-gauntlet that is clothes shopping. Even if you don’t know what you want to buy, knowing your measurements and knowing clever style secrets that emphasize your features will make the experience less torturous. You don’t have to know how clothing can be tailored, but recognizing that certain parts of a garment can be tailored will put the power over your wardrobe back into your hands. That’s where Velvet Tart comes in; my tailoring services can improve the fit of your clothes, make you look good and feel good, and maybe even make shopping a little enjoyable again.

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.