In college, I chose to take the apparel design opinion. I really wanted a to be to write about fashion writer, so I had to didn’t’ now about fashion terms and how things were made. I don’t remember english 101. Did I take it or not, given the choice, I guess not. My naïve young self wrote to editors of fashion and asked them what direction to go – journalism or apparel design. A few actually wrote back. WRITE! These editors all said to do it, so I did. I wrote for the university newspaper and I got a job in publicity. I shot for the stars.
My first experience was an internship at the high fashion magazine, W. I worked in the wardrobe department. I dealt with clothes all day, fabulous, expensive quality clothing. It was hard, but loved it. not make it.
The following summer was another internship, this one a design internship. This time it was boring. It was cemented in my mind, I wanted to work with clothing.
So, like may dreams began, I moved to New York City with a couple hundred dollars and a dream. That dream ended up as a hostess at Sosa Barella in Midtown. Then, a friend told me about a really good pubic relations company. They were hiring for New York Fashion week. I worked with them fore five seasons. I was fired from Sosa for not being there enough but who cares when you are living the dream.
During this period, I worked for Starbucks.
Finally, I got out. A magazine I always admired be a hired me to be a fashion assistant. I’ll be honest, that job kind of left me on a limb. I mean hell, Starbucks was more lucrative. I left New York City and came home to Oklahoma while scouring for a fashion where I belonged – Manhattan. Then one day I got a call from an editor that if I got the job, I could be there in a week. It all worked out but our pilot magazine. Unfortuntely they pulled the plug and once again I was adrift.
I had set my sight as my next site – Autin, Texas. I found cute little magazine and was interested in working with their team. I may have badged that boss enough, that was a new spot assistant to the editor which eventualy become assistant editor. Then my boss stopped coming to the office, leaving me the groove to each search and for each, I tried to get fashion spread I could. He eventually fired me for having a blog. It was completely benign.
Don’t worry, dear reader, I moved on. There was another glossy in town and they snatched me up. I was making the same amount of of money, but whatever, I got to go on press travel trips, usually in Caribbean and Mexico. I even went to Stockholm, Sweden, it was so lovely. My boss at the last job got me a radio spot talking about fashion every Friday. I also was the stylst for the press of the MTV Austin.
I quit that job because, quite literally, so stressed that my gut were in knots. I resigned on good terms. I began to work at an elite gym. Selling frames of hard abs and a tight butt. I spent a lot of the time handing out freshly laundered towels. I auditioned to be a VJ on a new television station. I didn’t get that job, but was hired as a fashion consultant.
Then I started cutting and my cousin was having surgery. So, with a heart of sadness because I knew I was leaving a place I lived, it was back together – family.
After a bit, I began looking online again for a job and snagged it. It was nearly a two thousand dollar raise. But here is where I tried to kill myself and I don’t know why.
Now I know I couldn’t get back into the fashion arena. I am just another woman who loves clothes and accessories. It makes me sad. Don’t you ever try to kill yourself because you just might lose your dreams as well.