I was meant to be a designer

I always knew that I would be a fashion designer. When I was a little girl, my two older cousins and I would spend hours upon hours designing and sketching clothes. Movies were our inspiration. We watched the characters with wide eyes, taking in all of the beautiful colors of the garments on the big screen. But as we grew older, we were constantly told that being a fashion designer wasn’t a “real job” and that the fashion world is too competitive, too cutthroat to ever claim success for yourself. Slowly, as elementary idealism turned into adolescent cynicism, the thought of becoming a fashion designer became a distant childhood fantasy for my cousinsーtheir dreams abandoned to the woes and worries of the “real-world.” I, however, could never lose sight of the original aspiration. The light of fashion, the allure to the art of it all, never faded from my eyes. With every colorful shoe that walked down the runway, avante garde silhouette that framed a magazine cover, and draped fabric adorning a mannequin I saw, the more entranced with fashion I became.

My parents saw this spark for creativity in me at a young age and quickly supported it. At the time, I didn’t realize how blessed I was. My family grew up with nothing. My mom grew up in the Philippines with her parents, siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles all under one roof. My father, his parents, and his seven brothers and sisters left paradise in Guam after the typhoon took away everything they had. Needlessly buying new clothes was not a privilege afforded to those who came before me; each child’s wardrobe was hand-me-down and ill-fitted. Nobody had their own possessions, all resources were shared, everything was everyone’s. The value of family and community far outweighed that of material items.

The generations before me, in the Philippines and Guam, would alter clothes and make dresses out of rice bags. They created clothes, not out of creative musing, but because they had no other choice. I, on the other hand, had the privilege to create. It never dawned on me that the sacrifices they made to survive enabled me to work as arduously as possible to manifest my passion. Hard work, nonetheless, persisted across the generations. My very first sewing machine was passed down from my grandmother, by way of my own mother. In mastering the machine that they had years priorーa beat-up, old Singer that should’ve blown out decades before I was bornーI developed a pride and joy in, a sheer love for what was done before me.

By that age of eight, equipped with my new tool, I gathered a bunch of old jeans and cut them up to create a new patchwork textile. Next, I cut two large rectangles, sewed the sides together, attached two long straps, and suddenly I had created my very own tote bagWith all the hours spent designing and sewing, my skills quickly advanced. At only 14 years old, I got a job as an assistant sewing teacher for “Camp Runway.” I was paid to teach little kids, those with the same dream of becoming a fashion designer that had budded for me not long before, how to sew. At the end of the camp, the kids would model their inventions. As wide smiles stretched across their faces, they strutted down the runway for their family and friends. At That moment, as I reflected on a summer of telling children that they could do anything they set their sights on, I realized that all those people saying I could never make it in the fashion industry were completely, utterly wrong. I, indeed, was going to become a fashion designer.

From that point on, the opinions of others didn’t matter to me at all. I knew I was going to be successful, no matter what. With my own belief in myself, and the unconditional support of my family, by my junior year of high school, I was accepted into my dream college, the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising, with early admission and multiple scholarships. In college, my view of the Fashion industry expanded endlessly. I took classes on textiles, pattern drafting, draping, and collection development. Without doubt, however, the most valuable part of my college experience, which I eventually learned would be the most valuable part of the industry, was the people I met along the way. My childhood dream of sewing was only ever entertained by my family; it played out on a machine that was an extension of my ancestral tree. At FIDM, I was for the first time surrounded exclusively by people who also dreamed of fashion, of creating, my family growing beyond my bloodline. For two years of careful study and training, I spent every day with the same four classmates. Instead of growing sick of each other, all that time together brought us inseparably close. The rumors of the fashion industry being overly competitive, and the people being ruthless and selfish, couldn’t be further from what everyone had always told me to be true. We helped each other get better. Knowledge was shared and circulated. . We all wanted to win, alongside one another.

My days became full with repairing, distressing, and altering denim. It felt surreal that the very first product I ever sewed was a denim tote and now, years later, I was getting paid to work with denim on a daily basis. I was so grateful to have a job in my industry, but I never thought that job would open so many doors and shape me so much into the person I am today. Once again, I was surrounded by people who became my makeshift family. Trust and love grew between me and my coworkers, which only improved my work. They supported my creative process and pushed my personal growth during every single shift. I was quickly promoted up through the company. I was able to see the nation as I opened up Tailor Shops in up and coming cities. Higher compensation and more benefits came with each promotion, but the real reward was the opportunity to be a part of so many other people’s creative journeys. I became a mentor to different people all over the world, in places I could never envision myself visiting as a girl. Every time I got an email, call, or text asking for advice, I felt honored that the person on the other end trusted me to give it. I stayed with that company for four years because the people I met made it worth it. I went through my first major heartbreak, the loss of all grandparents, and my mom’s cancer diagnosis all while I was at work.

My work family became the most essential part of my work. to the company and my various roles had an immense impact on the trajectory of my career. Eventually, however, there became fewer and fewer challenges and opportunities for growth. As soon as I wasn’t creatively challenged anymore, I knew I needed to be doing something new. The thought of starting my own company danced around in my head. It was always there, but I felt it growing stronger and stronger as I felt more and more unfulfilled. It was such an exhilarating idea to quit the job everyone thought I would never leave to start a brand of my own. It was also terrifying. I didn’t want to lose the community I had found and the resources I had access to. Then one day, in speaking over the decision with one of those very four friends I had met in college, I realized that just because she and I didn’t see each other regularly anymore didn’t mean that we still weren’t part of the same community. We were still family. The connections I’d built throughout the years were durable; there was no reason that leaving my job would jeopardize their strength and reliability. I left my job two weeks later.

Today, I have never felt so sure about a major decision in my whole life. It was scary taking the leap into the unknown, but everything in me was telling me that that’s what I needed to doーthat I’m exactly where I need to be. I reflect back to when I was a little girl on my family’s sewing machine and how much my parents believed in me. It’s now my turn to really, really believe in myself. I no longer have a steady paycheck and a schedule for my next two weeks, but what I do have is so much better. I have freedom--the opportunity to run my own brand and to cultivate another community. I know I’ve put in so much hard work to get to where I am now, prepared myself for this very moment. But when I’m creating beautiful things with talented, brilliant people, it never feels hard to call what I love to do “work.” I don’t have a lot of money and I don’t know exactly what my future has in store, but I have my people, my community, my familyーand that’s all I need.