Keep It Moving

At the end of last week, my business partners and I decided to terminate Marla's contract. Although it seemed like she was initially committed to the cause of getting the line on store racks, she lost steam after our disappointing Market Week turnout. Ashanti and I tried several times over the past three weeks to contact Marla so that we could strategize our next move, but our phone calls went unreturned and our emails were unanswered. We are looking into other options as far as a sales professional is concerned and are hopeful. But our success is only guaranteed by a strong team who believes in the goals of Sorta Kinda Enterprises. In the meantime, this Tuesday past, I took a handful of dresses with me and visited 3 different Manhattan boutiques that we are interested in selling to. And the idea of the old school door-to-door salesman is dead. May he rest in peace. Because each one of the style emporiums that I looked into will only consider our goods through email correspondence. I spoke to my friend Chris this afternoon about this phenomenon and both of us thought it rather ironic. Because clothing is very tactile, most of us like to see the way a garment moves, how it feels, its weight. But modern technology has eliminated an integral part of choosing one design over another. And then, what if the buyer dislikes the way my photos are styled or my choice of models. Will that influence their decision? It's all quite precarious. But I've been emailing the images to every appropriate venue possible. All I need is a breakthrough.

Peace & Fashion!

Fashion Detox

Although I love fashion, it can be, at times, overwhelming. Even for me, a self-proclaimed style arbiter with the vested power to arrest perpetrators of fashion felonies & misdemeanors, the swirl of 24/7 non-stop fashion can be dizzying. With the crush of New York Fashion Week followed by intense preparations for Market Week, I was exhausted. And so the choice was detox or die. My counselor advised me to carefully, little by little, dip my toe in the waters of panache and elegance, but I never learn so here I am fully submerged doing the backstroke in an Olympic size pool of style. Inevitably, I will suffer from fashion burnout again. But for now I am restored to fabulous status.

My expectations for Market Week were not unrealistic. I know I am the new kid on the block. And without the working capital to hire a publicist, I also know getting my line of cocktail dresses out into the retail universe is going to be an uphill battle. But I had carefully selected my friend Mike's home on the east side in midtown as the space to show the collection to potential buyers. My boyfriend helped me carry all the dresses, a clothing rack on wheels, and framed poster size photos of the models wearing different styles into Manhattan on the train. I thought it would be a good idea to host a cocktail party for buyers in the evening so we could introduce ourselves in an atmosphere that was less serious, so I bought fresh cut flowers and the ingredients for a cocktail my mother (a sometime mixologist) created called the Wilburtini. My sister Ashanti rented martini glasses and asked her friend Christina to serve for the evening. Ashanti crafted the disc that was brimming with all of Whitney Houston's dance classics since it was the musical inspiration for this collection. We created the invitation which was emailed to all the targeted store buyers. Marla, our sales pro, was fit for a dress from the line so that she could truly represent. And I asked Vanessa, Goddess #2 from the June photo shoot, to please be present to do a little informal modeling. But as the time grew closer, I started to feel like we might not have the turn out I had hoped for. And since the drama at the U.N. had caused whole city blocks to be closed down, I thought it might deter a few from attending. So I began to invite some of my fashionable friends whom I have dressed asking them to please come by and help us celebrate. Smart move. Because not one buyer showed. Years ago I would have fallen into a deep funk, but I can cope better now because I have a better understanding. This is not the end for me or my dresses. I am a winner. So collectively, my team and I have got to knock on some doors and knock down others to make sure these dresses are on racks come spring. And God willing that is exactly where they will end up.


Peace & Fashion!