Stefan and me as These Dressmakers

His name is Stefan, but he wants you to know exactly how it’s pronounced. Hold your head high, round your mouth, and very deliberately say, “Steff On!” If you say it any other way, you’ll get the cold shoulder from him. He doesn’t answer to anything else.

A few days ago I was on the back deck reading about Freud when I saw out of the corner of my eye a man dressed in white walking away from the railing towards the front of the house. Now, the simple-minded gal that I am I let it go. Puff, out of my head, and continued reading about human psyche, Freud style.

There’s been some commotion about this latest blue moon and all the powers that come with it. I’ve read about it, mostly releasing old shit. You’re not going to be able to hang onto what doesn’t work for you, I’ve been reading. Okay, I thought. You know, if it doesn’t work, get rid of it. That’s been my philosophy for years. Well, whew did it go. It went in such a combustible state that I don’t know what end is up. Last Thursday while driving away from Norwich after dropping off my artwork, there was an angry mess floating in the car that followed us home and became belligerent and death-defying in my studio. There were words spoken, notions hashed, and inflammatory conglomerations as I’ve never heard before. I listened to the venom with no understanding of the language in which it had been spoken. But the words kept flying like swords, knives, and machetes. I wondered where I was going next.

I felt this energy rush through my feet and up my legs, but went no further. I lay in bed that night with images of people, lots of people doing all sorts of things like buying groceries, planting fields, mowing yards, unrecognizable faces of all kinds in flashes, in circles, in kaleidoscopes while my eyes were closed. The top of my head spun. I felt vertigo, and couldn’t get off that ride so I just laid there and waited for it to end. Finally, it stopped as suddenly as it began. That was when Stefan showed up, dressed in a white suit with a red tie, white shoes, peroxided hair and ruby red lips. His hair was short spiking straight up. His hands gesticulated madly while he talked fluently and quickly. Somehow I understood that he was going to help me make dresses. Yep, you heard right. Stefan is a dressmaker. I thought he was going to be my assistant. He let me know that I am his apprentice. He tells me what to do, and I follow his lead. So, together, Stefan and I made a new dress yesterday. He’s here with me to make me follow through with my vision of dresses I’ve had for years. He told me that I stop myself. I busy myself with other things because the thought of walking right into my dream was scary for me. So, he’s holding my hands, helping with fabric selection, design styles, and accessories. I am doing things I haven’t done before. The dress we completed yesterday truly is magnificent. 

I am moving forward fearlessly, and would I have done this without Stefan? Hm, who knows? Really, who cares? I just want to do it. I want to get these creations out of my head and onto people. They have been mesmerizing me since 2007. I have notebooks of drawings. I dream about them. I’ve wished them into reality for years. Now, Stefan and I are These Dressmakers. Together. Yep, together. He’s kinda bossy, and I’m okay with that. He’s hilarious and calming. He helps me think clearer when I believe in the moment that I don’t know what I’m doing. That used to put the brakes on. Now, Stefan just leads me to the next thing that needs doing. Everybody needs a Stefan, but for now, I’ve got my own, whether he’s purely imagined, miraculous, divine intervention, or insane. It’s working for me like nothing else has. As a matter of fact, he’s tapping his foot on the floor right now. His arms are crossed and he's impatiently waiting for me to stop writing about him and get to working with him. We have a million dresses to make, because as he keeps telling me, “We are these dressmakers."