The Spring Collection

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American designers launch their collections twice per year: the Fall collection is introduced at fashion markets in the spring and the spring collection in the fall (a calendar disconnect which makes it nearly impossible for me to speak about a collection without pausing to correct myself first).

The spring launch is out of sync with European markets, which launch once per year, beginning in April in Paris then sweeping through Europe until finishing in Moscow. (Unless, of course, you’re talking couture labels, and then the schedule begins in October, in New York, with Fashion Week, or Asia starting in February).

Basically, fashion is all over the map, and that means so am I. But, when people ask me “What’s the most interesting place you’ve visited?” I draw a blank.

Truth is, I don’t visit interesting places. I hit all the destinations any Octogenarian would hit on their Viking Cruise. Then I rinse and repeat.

Least you think I am complaining, I am not! I love my job, but now that I am on the “repeat” phase of the rinse cycle I’m developing a hunger for the unmannecured, unwashed, underdeveloped corners of the planet – corners that don’t buy couture.

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I’m craving the steamy pulse of Southeast Asia, or the rhythmic sway of South America, or the bustling grime of India.

I want to be covered in bug bites, glistening with sweat, and sipping a cold beer in a warm breeze while laughing with locals.

To me, that means Columbia – the Santa Marta islands, Cartagena, or my friend’s coastal farm a harrowing day’s drive outside of Bogota.

When you travel for a living,”getting away” takes on a whole new meaning.

Made in China

It begins, the trip that tests if I’m actually qualified for the job I have.

When Sheryl Sandberg told women to use our power to “Lean In” she didn’t address what happens next. How do I go from landing the dream job and impressing my colleagues to actually believing all the hype about myself? Does everyone secretly believe they’re a complete career fraud? And, does that nagging fear ever go away?

Stamp my passport, it’s proving time.

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