Fear of the Fear of Failure

The Liberty fabric above costs roughly $45/yard, slightly less if you're a lucky eBay bidder (click on the image if you feel lucky, punk). And though I often recommend that if you possibly can, you should sew with Liberty prints, many people tell me that they couldn't possibly cut into such expensive fabric -- even people who have been sewing for many more years than I have, even people who have made tailored jackets, for pete's sake. They're too afraid they'll screw it up.

So I was wondering about this, and decided (very uncharacteristically for me) to do the math. So let's say you buy fabric for four Liberty-print dresses: that's ($45*4 yds)*4, which would be $720.00.

And let's say that you ruin, beyond hope of recovery, ALL FOUR of your Liberty-print projects. That's a lot of money wasted, right? That's a month's rent for some people. Two or three car payments, maybe. Months of groceries, depending on how many teenage boys are in your household.

It's also 5.76 $125 dresses bought at a department store. (I'm taking $125 NOT as the median department-store dress price, but because it's the absolute maximum price I think I could bring myself to pay for a new dress off the rack.) Have you bought more than 6 dresses in your life that you didn't like? That you wore once, maybe? That hung in your closet until you pushed them into the forgiving arms of the Salvation Army? (Replace "$125 dress" with "$45 sweater" and "6" with "more than I want to recall" and you have MY experience.) What did you learn from buying those dresses? A lot less than you would have learned from trying to sew them, I wager.

Here I'm assuming (highly unlikely) that you would be unable to salvage anything that you had sewn ... but I'm also assuming (highly likely) that you would learn a GREAT DEAL from four sewing projects, even if they were all sobbing failures. So much so that with the *next* project, you would most likely make something wearable.

That's just what failure is, or what it ought to be: failure is just figuring stuff out the hard way.

Almost every Saturday morning my little boy and I go roller-skating together. And every Saturday I tell my son (who HATES to fall down) that if he doesn't fall down, he won't learn anything. If you don't fall, you won't ever know how fast is too fast, how tight is too tight to take a turn, how soon (after a mega-blast blue-raspberry Slurpee) is too soon to head back to the floor. And if you don't screw up something -- anything -- in your life, you won't ever know how good you could have been.

So I *hate* it when someone tells me they don't want to try something because they might screw it up. So what? Unless what you're trying to do involves tightrope walking 5000 feet up, you probably won't DIE. And short of death, almost everything is fixable. Don't ask me for advice if that's not what you want to hear, because I'm the person who is going to tell you to take the new job, to ask the guy (or girl) out already, to move to the new city, to wear orange. I'll tell you to stop focusing on what you might lose, and start thinking about what you might LEARN.

Sometimes when people say they're afraid of failure, what they really mean is that they are afraid of humiliation. Which is completely understandable. But, speaking as someone who has felt humiliated more times than she'd like to remember, humiliation passes. (It passes like a kidney stone passes, but that's another story.) Not to mention that humiliation passes differently for each person: you remember it for months; the witnesses remember it for seconds (they have their own humiliations to obsess over, and don't have time for yours). You wake up the next morning, same as always. You head back into work, you run into that guy again ("Uh, hi!"), you get a new haircut to fix the one that wasn't such a good idea, after all. But at least you tried, and now you know something you didn't know before.

Or ... you try, and it works! It works beyond your wildest dreams. (Insert wildest dreams here.) Even if it works a little bit short of your wildest dreams, that's still further along than you were yesterday. And there's no rule that you can't try again.

So, that thing? That thing you've been scared to try, because you think there's NO POSSIBLE WAY you could do it? That everyone would point and laugh when you fell? Today looks like an EXCELLENT day to give it a shot. Take it from me. (Everyone's looking the other way, anyway.) Go for it!

And if you're going to do it, you might as well wear something orange while you do. (I'm just saying.)

Actually, there IS such a thing as bad publicity; let me show you it

I get a LOT of press releases, all clamoring for me to push something on this blog. Somehow last year I made it to some list of the Top Fifty Fashion Blogs (number 37! represent!) and now everyone and her intern has my email address.

Now, I don't mind a GOOD pitch, but I don't get very many of those. (Most of the good pitches are for books, which is probably because book publicists actually READ.)

I do mind a BAD pitch. What makes a pitch bad? Lots of things. The worst are pitches that make it embarrassingly apparent that the pitch-er has never read my blog before. Do I feature jewelry consistently? No. What makes you think I will start doing so for your product? Do I breathlessly report the doings and wearings of starlets? No again. So why would I be interested in your report of a C-list personage involved with your product in some way? And, more importantly, why would the people who read this blog be interested?

Sending out hundreds of badly-worded, badly-targeted pitches is spamming, no more, no less. What really gets me is that these poor designers are brainwashed into thinking they need to PAY these clueless "PR reps" to piss off bloggers and editors for them. It's shameful. (If the goal was to piss off editors and bloggers it'd be cheaper and more fun for the designer to just go around and egg everyone's houses.)

A little while back I got this pitch. (Client name blocked out to avoid giving them any publicity, even the bad kind.)

Check out our exclusive photo of Rumor Willis wearing a $32,000 ring, designed by ------ -----, the hottest jewelry designer out there.

[note: I have never heard of this designer.]

The ring is almost 4CT in diamonds! Rumor drooled over the ring when she recently stopped by ----- show room.

We would love to see this photo on your awesome blog! You guys do a great job!
Call/email me with any questions..

Kate Long
PeakPR Group

Yep, that was the whole release, word-for-word, and exactly as sent to me (minus client name and rep's contact info). First of all, there was no link to the photo to "check out." If I WERE interested, I'd have to write back for it. Dumb. (Of course, that's much better than the PR reps who insist on cluttering my inbox with eight .jpgs all named things like JPG001.jpg!)

My blog is called A DRESS A DAY. I write about sewing and vintage: not exactly an upscale lifestyle. Why are you sending me press releases for hugely expensive diamond rings? My last CAR didn't cost $32K.

Also -- "Rumor" Willis? If even I, disassociated as I am from tabloid culture, know that her name is spelled "Rumer," how dumb do YOU look?

And Rumer is famous solely because Ashton Kutcher is her step-dad. This does not mean she is a style arbiter. Again: why should I (or anyone) care?

One more thing: It's pretty apparent that I write this whole blog all by my lonesome. Why use "you guys"?

For some dumb reason (I blame low blood sugar) I replied to this PR missive, pointing out the above errors, explaining that their releases did not inspire confidence in their services or their clients' products, and asking to be taken off their list.

Then, I got this gem back:

My intern sent that, thanks for pointing it out.

[Worst. Excuse. Ever. So you're charging your clients ... for work done by interns? That you evidently didn't check? And you're advertising this fact? It's not the intern's fault, if she is an intern. It's yours.]

By the way your English have been "are not applicable."

[I wrote "I'm the only person writing [my blog], so "you guys" is not applicable." Which is less correct than the sentence above, apparently.]

Also, we rep 160 retail stores, so we are very inspired..

[Quantity equals quality! We all know that.]

They happen include major leading fashion designers.

[That sentence no verb.]

Clearly you should be more polite regarding a simple spell check, it is clear your blog is amateur,

[Which is why ... you wanted me to feature your client on my amateur blog?]

you never know the help one needs on the way up. Politeness is the door to success.

Sincerely,
Christine Peake,
CEO, PEAKPR GROUP.

That last bit just kills me. I always assumed KNOWING HOW TO DO YOUR JOB was the door to success; politeness just oils the hinges of that door. I think Ms. Peake and her PEAKPR group are pushing (hard) on a door marked PULL.

This (replying to stupid pitches pointing out their stupidity and asking to not be sent any more stupid pitches) probably falls under the heading of not teaching pigs to sing (it wastes your time and annoys the pig). But, damn, rank incompetence annoys me! How hard is it to do a little RESEARCH? Spend a little time reading?

For a much better rant on this subject, check out Chris Anderson's. Be sure to read all the comments for your RDA of other-people's-cluelessness.

Oh, I Forgot!

Do you remember that bird fabric I was moaning about missing? And how y'all helped me find some (I bought five yards from CraftyPlanet, which, if you remember, was the place that featured the sock monkey dress in their windows).

Anyway, before I went traipsing about the globe, I actually made it up into a dress, to wit:



Here's the full-length view:



Annnnnnd the close-up:




I can't remember (or find, in my messy sewing room) the patterns I used -- it was another bodice-from-one, skirt-from-another Erin Special Combo, though. When I dig them up I'll post them.

At first I was a bit dismayed by exactly how much it looked like the waitress uniform at a diner called "Birdland" or "Nettie's Nest", but the more I thought about it, the more pissed off I was by my own first reaction. How sad and telling is it that clothes that remind us of honest labor (and let's be honest: low-paid, female honest labor) are somehow less beautiful? Why is is denigrating to say that a garment looks like the uniform of a waitress, or a nurse, or any other female service job? Why is the ideal to look as if you've never done a lick of work in your life? Why are clothes that actually facilitate Getting Stuff Done less worthy than clothes that actively Get In The Way (stiletto heels, I'm looking at you)?

Anyway, after getting myself comfortably indignant (it's good for the liver) I resolved to wear this happily, and if anyone points out the entirely-fortuitous resemblance between this and the traditional uniform of the great American waitress, I will pull a little pad out of my (convenient) pocket, take the pencil stub from behind my ear, and write them a thank-you note. After which I will continue on my merry way, working.

Rant-tastic subject #143: "What to Wear on Airplanes"

[Hint: it's not the above.]

For years, and I mean YEARS, of pretty much monthly travel, I've been boggled at what people decide is appropriate to wear on airplanes. Just absolutely boggled. The sweatpants and the stiletto mules (often on the same person), the jeans that are more holes than jeans (with matching holey t-shirts), the ratty flip-flops, the micro-minis. I could never figure it out, until last night, while waiting for the red-eye home to Chicago from SFO, I had a little epiphany, or perhaps a little interlude of sleep-deprivation. (So hard to tell the difference, really.)

My take is that people who wear clothes on airplanes that are better suited to washing a series of strangers' cars at $5/pop have essentially given up all hope that they will ever be the recipient of happy chance. They've decided serendipity is not for them, so they've forsaken the notion that perhaps one day they may need to make a good first impression on a stranger. (They've also decided that they don't ever need to be upgraded to business class, never mind first.)

Me, I won't get on a plane in anything less than I would wear to a business-casual meeting. Usually a skirt + cardigan, mostly a skirt + comfy jacket. At least two pockets are essential, so I don't have to keep digging in my bag for ID & boarding pass. Flat shoes that slip on and off easily are a must, so that I can play my walk-through role in the TSA's security theater with aplomb. (The next time I'm behind someone in strappy, multi-buckle gladiator sandals, though, I'm tossing THEM to the lions.) If I'm flying on Saturday, *maybe* I will wear sneakers, but they're nice one, not the ones I use for mowing the lawn.

This way, if I end up sitting next to someone interesting, I don't have to shout over what my clothes are saying. Last night I saw clothes that said "I model for Frederick's of Hollywood, Lamé Division"; clothes that said "my favorite Saturday morning cartoon and a bowl of chocolate-frosted sugar bombs are what I REALLY need right now"; and clothes that said "I can change the oil in my car -- and recently have." None of those clothes said "Take me seriously, please."

I'm not against comfort -- notice I said "flat shoes, comfy jacket" and I wear t-shirts, for sure, not fussy silk blouses -- but there's a line between 'comfortable' and 'raggedy-ass lazy' and the airport is not the place to cross that line. An airplane is a confined space, and, like any confined space, demands MORE civility and regard for others, not less.

So, please: no more flip-flops (and if you do wear flip-flops, please try to keep track of them, so that we aren't all held up on deplaning by you searching under three rows of seats for your left one). Try for clothes that have structural integrity; turbulence can be rough, you know? And I know they sell perfume (cheap, too!) in the airport, but that doesn't mean you get to try on five different ones before you board.

Before you leave for the airport, look at yourself in the mirror, and think: Could I meet and IMPRESS someone who would change my life while wearing this? And if the answer is "No," change. And add a sweater: those planes can get cold.