It made me so mad, and desperate, and embarrassed! People were emailing me back with messages like “this is spam, take me off your list” and I would write back all scrambley and apologetic saying ” Eeeee, I would if I could but I don’t know what’s going on. . . !” What a time suck it was, having to delete all this shit, having to communicate with my web hosts, having to think about something that is so meaningless in the big picture. More than once I was like, I’m just going delete my website. Fuck it.

I’ve now fixed the problem, I think. Only time will tell, when the last few bounce backs have run their course. I had to dig a little deeper into my web stores inner workings. I usually prefer to ignore that coded web hacker type information. Like, I’d rather use the space in my brain to store useful information, like silly songs to sing my daughter, or one of the zillion passwords I am required to know as a human living in 2010. 

It got me thinking about spam, and how ridiculous it is. Why does it exist? Does it ever actually work? Are people that stupid? People that send spam are the same type of people that litter. I hate them. Imagine that every spam email was actually printed on a piece of paper, then thrown on the ground. What would the world look like? We’d be buried alive. Even though the internet is this virtual place, where does all this spam go? What if the virtual world gets so littered with spam, it ends up a useless wasteland? Is that possible? 

Would I even care if the Internet ceased to exist because it became so overrun with spam that it self destructed? Sometimes the internet and my place in it will suddenly make me very, very uncomfortable. It gives me the heebie jeebies. Like, why am I sharing all this information? Am I not just contributing to the cyber garbage heap? Why do I know all this random shit about all these random people all of a sudden, and do I really care? I feel like rebelling against it often, but the boring rebellion to the internet is just not turning on the computer.  I don’t know. If I disappear all of a sudden, you’ll know why.

It’s been way too long since I made something with my hands.

So since I am really angry, and I can’t go back in time- this is the speach I have prepared if it ever happens again-

ech hem.

(incredulously)

“You’re pulling me over? The pregnant lady in the station wagon? I am the least of your worries, honey.”

(I never ever call anyone honey! I actually think it’s kind of condescending in a way, which could be the point here.)

“I live right around the corner and believe me, I drive with more than an ounce of caution in this neighborhood. I never go over 30 or 40 km, because I care about all the little kids  and the little cats that are roaming around. I’ve got jerks in SUV’s and souped up Honda Civics riding my ass like bullies trying to get me to speed it up all the time- and do I? No.  Why aren’t you going after those guys? What am I supposed to learn from this? To stop for one more second at a stop sign? Or to respect you and the law more? Because it’s having the complete opposite affect on me. It’s making me think about everthing you could be doing with your time, rather than wasting it on me. Why aren’t you going after the people that throw all their garbage on my lawn and all over the street? That’s a law I would like to see enforced by you. That will actually make a difference with the greater good of society.  Those people showing an obvious disprespect for their fellow citizens and surroundings, that’s probably a good indicator of real criminal activity, wouldn’t you say? A cleaner city is a safer city, no?”

I could continue, but it’s pointless to argue with them.  It’s reminded me of another instance of “where were they then”?

The other day I was in my local No Frills, where I get my groceries. It’s always an adventure, with a real cross section of Toronto life. All the stockboys are members of the same local metal band. One weird metal dude always says Hi to me and makes small talk. Dom calls him my buddy.  My buddy ignores me when Dom and I are shopping together, and he has been noticeably distant since I’ve been visibly pregnant. Sigh. I have a secret affection for my No Frills- it makes going into Loblaws a shock of pretension. So there I was getting my groceries- really, there we all were, getting our groceries, minding our business. I was walking by the checkouts, it was pretty busy and there were quite a few people in line. This man is standing at the back by the exits, where you bag your groceries- basically the space that everyone in line is staring into. And he yells- REALLY loud, and in a slow announcement kind of way-

“All you Canadians are going to die tonight.   .  . I’m bringing out the bazooka on ya.”

It was so fucked up! Some little kid started laughing. Everyone else was in total shock. It was pretty eery. I was totally creeped out. My buddy was near by, giving the crazy dude the stare down, ready to protect us all if necessary. And that was it, I kept on with my business, and got my groceries and left, never really seeing what happened to Crazypants. I guess the shock wore off, and I started laughing as I got into my car. I called Dom right away, and couldn’t even repeat what had just happened. I was laughing so hard I was crying my eyes out.  Good thing the police didn’t see me then- driving, laughing so hard I was crying, talking on a cell phone. I know, not the safest. I got off the phone and told Dom when I got home, and of course he loved it!! That has been our laugh of the week.  .  . “all you Canadians are gonna die tonight .   .  .” so crazy!!

So what is the punishment for yelling death threats to a store full of people, or actually, an entire nation of people?  More than not coming to a complete stop at a stop sign I should hope. Where were they then?

Just for kicks- you should all try this in your loudest, booming-est voice.  Say, “All you Canadians are gonna die tonight! I’m bringing out the bazooka on ya.” It’s kind of fun.

I brought Danielle Meder with me as an assistant. Being seven months pregnant and not really knowing what to expect- I thought it would be a good idea to have someone there to give me a hand. Danielle has worked with me in studio on the majority of the collection, so she definitely knows it well.  She also has a keen interest in all aspects of the fashion industry, and has mentioned to me in the past that she would like to see what Vegas market week was all about. I encouraged her to network herself as an illustrator to other young designers and I think she was successful in getting a few new clients, or at least the beginnings of.

To say the whole experience was stressful would be an understatement. It started before we even left Toronto. The original flight we were on was supposed to get us there Sunday evening- enough time to set up the booth on Monday before the deadline of 6pm, and also to settle in a bit before the show started. Our flight ended up being cancelled because of mechanical problems on Sunday night- after sitting on the runway an hour or two. We figured out our next move with the ticket agent- and got what we thought were tickets on a different airline for the next morning. So. . the next morning- it turned out the agent had failed to give us the proper documents to travel on a different airline, and our tickets weren’t actually valid. The next available flight wouldn’t get us to Vegas until 10:30 that night. Too late. So I bought two one way tickets on a different airline- that was a huge burn. The whole journey was starting to feel like a massive weight on my emotions.  Being stressed is not a good thing during pregnancy, so I’ve read a thousand times.

Beyond the ride there, there were other glitches that got more and more ridiculous as they happened. We managed to set up the booth in time and finally got to go back to the hotel. We walked into the lobby and there was an almost hour long line up to check in.  For the first- and probably last time during my pregnancy, I played the pregnancy card. Not really my style in life, but I was nearing the end of my tolerance.  I told the hotel staff that I couldn’t wait in the line and asked to be checked in right away. They did, not very nicely, but whatevs.  It was a good thing- after taking my socks and shoes off- my feet were totally swollen, and may have exploded if I had stayed on my feet for a moment longer. By feet, I mean eyes and by explosion I mean crying of course. They looked like sausages, or maybe burritos because my feet are pretty flat and narrow. Fun! Burrito feet! Burrito feet stayed with me all week.

The actual show was pretty slow. I was expecting more bodies of the human kind to be walking the aisles. It got slower and slower as time went on, and the last day was crushingly so. The optimistic dream I had that the whole experience would be redeemed by a bad economy defying overwhelming number of sales unfortunately did not come true. Not to say that the trip was a huge failure. People liked my collection and I was interviewed by WWD and WGSN. I met some great people and made some good contacts, and Butikofer will be selling in the U.S. in the fall. It’s a good start. It was interesting to see the response to the collection from such a wide variety of buyers.  Some didn’t understand it and thought my prices were too high, some thought the collection was a steal for the level of design, quality and being Made in Canada. I feel like the name Butikofer kind of set me back, not like I would ever change it- but it may be an easier road as a new designer if my label was something more easily pronounceable, like Proenza Schouler or Thierry Mugler . I think those are taken though.   The vinyl sign I had made for the booth was way larger than I had imagined and maybe  it was a bit intimidating. You could see people kind of side ways glancing at it as they walked by, confusedly trying to sound it out. It’s beauty-coffer people. Not too complicated, if you ask.

The emotional drainage of the experience gave me more than a few realizations. The big one was how important and life changing having a baby is going to be. Fashion seemed to matter less and less as the week went on. I was so worried about her all the time. I wasn’t feeling her move as much as I normally would, which totally freaked me out. I don’t think I experienced or got as much out of market week as I could have, because in the evenings I really just wanted to chill out and concentrate on my belly. My apologies to Danielle, I know I wasn’t as fun as I would have been seven months ago, and much more inwardly focused than I normally am.

I feel like I grew into my age this past week, like I really am a month away from 29- which I’ve never felt before.  The burden of responsibility of where I am in my life is now real. I realized that something about my business has to change- I need to stop trying to grow it and figure out how to make it the best it can be in this stage right now, and make it work for my very soon to be-life with baby. I am a fashion designer because I have an innate need to be creative, to make something out of the ideas I have.  But this needs to be a real business if it’s going to be my career. I am hoping for a creativity/business balance. I am hoping that I can stop spending money on growth and start paying off some of the debts I’ve built up trying to get here.  There is nothing worse than being stressed about money. I want  to start making stuff for the sake of making it again, I haven’t done that in a long time.

My last mushy realization from Vegas is how much I love my husband, more and more as our lives become more complicated and entwined. I wish he had been there with me last week, with his manly chivalry in these fragile pregnant times. He’s my rock, he has the ability to make all situations better by detracting from them. He teases me incessantly- never allowing me to take myself too seriously, which keeps me grounded and sane.  We were in Vegas for a day on our honeymoon- he is the perfect partner for a city like Vegas- fully understanding and embracing the ridiculousness and excessiveness of that city. Fun, lovely, caring man. I am so lucky. I can’t wait to see him hold our daughter.

That’s all for now, more to come eventually.

Fall 2009/10! I feel a little like Santa before Christmas. So much to do, if only I knew some elves.