Wake up with the sun.
Watch the sky brighten and absentmindedly make warm lemon water. Squeeze lemon, warm water and take a few sips as I deliver to waking BF. Followed by coffee. Often tea for me.
Set up laptop to zoom with Mandira (my gifted clothing maker) in India…discuss desperate current conditions there and the challenges of launching a fashion business during a pandemic.
Smile often at one another, grateful for global technology.
Follow with daily office check-in for online orders. Organize paperwork, then lovingly pack and ship them. Focus on what I admire about each one---the soft fabric, the color, the imprint of shapes I created myself, the artful embroidery, the handwork, even the label and hangtag. I especially love the pieces that come in their own little bag.
Pray each recipient sees much of what I see and is delighted upon opening package.
Teach online yoga class and thank myself for the genius idea to cleverly schedule time on the mat nearly every day, because otherwise work is ALWAYS on the agenda. Breathe. Move. Stretch. Meditate. THEN get to work.
Organize long-awaited, finally received, shipment of new arrivals from India. Unpack all the boxes and make neat piles of colorful items in our newly repurposed office/warehouse/design studio that once was my sweetheart’s music studio. Thank my lucky stars for every beautiful day that permits open doors and windows, so I can relocate workspace to the lanai. And for a mate who loves helping it unfold.
Listen to birds as I answer emails.
Measure and hang new samples, imagining all the colors and prints in which to offer them. This process used to be an all day (or 2 day) marathon meeting with contingents from all corners of the corporation with endless and often pointless debate. Now it’s just fun.
Decide suddenly that it's mandatory that I do another solo photo shoot this very moment for all the new items that have arrived. This decision requires me to wear a dozen hats (not literally exactly) so I set to work multi-tasking—ironing, steaming, setting up the camera (my iPhone) on its tripod, applying a light bit of makeup, somewhat brushing my hair, lining up the things I want to shoot, clearing space in front of the ubiquitous (and supremely useful) Bamboo Wall. Every time I set my camera in front of it I say a silent thank you to my ever-creative mate for building it. Then I don the items, check to make sure I am in the frame as I click away with my remote clicker and hope for the best. Then there's the uploading and the downloading and the airdropping and the cropping and the photo editing and--voila! --the new items are ready for their debut.
Cross fingers with the hope that looking at my 67 year old face doesn’t get tiresome for my viewers. For now I am the It Girl for everything, so c’est la vie. At least I don’t have to go anywhere for an exotic tropical location; I just have to just wander out the back door. Occasionally I do wistfully recall days when crews of a dozen people and six figure budgets were required to shoot a new collection. Try to imagine how to plan for a slimmed down version of same in the future.
Log onto Zoom for one of a series of various meetings on various days
—sharing circle/personal touchbase/Covey Club online gathering/reinvention support pod/one-on-one mentoring session…etc, etc. Learn something new every single time.
Attempt to nourish and hydrate myself during the day. This is a feat of multi-tasking, since I tend to get too busy and there is no one here to feed me. Wish my Mama Lucia was here, telling me to “have a banana”. (Reference to previous bandana post on Instagram/Facebook).
Speaking of social media, I’ll often take a moment to post something meaningful/beautiful/inspiring/commercially viable on various accounts…then get caught in a web of scrolling before I realize an hour has passed and my computer has gone to sleep waiting for me. Like this. This wasn’t on my to-do list today, but every word is true.
You are so inspiring! I love your clothes. I still have a pair of wide beige pants that are back in style even if I bought them at least 15-20 years ago.