Once again, the Thursday morning internet is abuzz with Runway discussion. I think it’s interesting that the three people I watch Runway with are all “straight” boys, sitting excitedly on the edge of their Lazyboys in breathless anticipation of Santino’s next patch of sequins. Anyway, as I re-integrated my new living companion into my Runway obsession, I realized I miss my old stitch and sew ways and have decided once again reprise my business plan for being the creative director of my own label, Spotswear.
Spotswear’s original headquarters were located in a section of my parent’s basement, previously housing a top salon and later, dance studio. The walls were covered with sketches, the looks consisting mainly of lots of fishnet stockings and bomber jackets with “KOREA” embroidered on them (entirely ripped off from a look worn for 15 seconds in the film Pretty in Pink.) I had an old desk, a sewing machine and several huge bolts of fabric, a gift from a family friend who managed an apartment building. Turns out, one of his tenants died, leaving yards and yards of fabric no one knew what to do with, and our friend, conveniently knowing a 14 year old with an apparel start-up, have me carte blanche to raid the dead lady’s apartment.
With dead lady fabric as my only option, my designs were both limited and specific. There were two huge bolts of heavyweight lycra, one in red and one in black. So I did a series of skintight separates which could be ordered in both colors, as well as a strange, cheerleader inspired tennis-dress done in both, which oddly enough, retailed for $45. There was also a monstrous bolt of boiled navy wool, which, you know, doesn’t really go with shiny black lycra. From that, I made big square skirts with suspenders, primarily for myself, which I styled with my father’s dress-shirts and neckties and actually wore to freshman year of high school. Needless to say, people threw things at me.
By the time I got around to the 4 bolts of mauve and black polyester jacquard, I was over it. Spotswear had run it’s course, I spent most of my time alone in my headquarters singing along to The Commitment’s Soundtrack and I was rapidly realizing that it takes a really long time to embroider “KOREA” on anything.
The dream died. And with it, my headquarters. If you venture down there now, my father’s model train empire overwhelms every inch of the place, railroad schedules now covering my pinned pullouts from Seventeen’s prom issue and cheap, ripped posters of kittens emerging from wicker baskets.
But Runway has reignited this passion for fashion retail. The Spotswear sweatshop will soon be limiting bathroom breaks once again. And believe it or not, I still have some of that goddamn fabric left…