Orange Handles and a Sandbag Strawberry

I was around four when I was introduced to an endless world of color and texture. My mother tells the story best. When she would go shopping at the local fabric store, she would place me in the cart and my mind would start to wonder. I would stretch out my arms as far as I could so I could feel the rows upon rows of textiles and trims, all organized by colors. Seeing endless possibilities and feeling the excitement was enchanting.

My earliest memories are sitting next to my grandma in her sewing room with our fabric store finds. The smell of hot plastic from the lightbulb attached to her sewing machine filled the unfinished basement with a sharp aroma. A single row of Cabbage Patch dolls lined up against the exposed walls and pipes created a not entirely wholesome backdrop. I patiently watched her every move with a field of glistening brown eyes. Most six-year-olds would find this scene unsettling, but not me. Every time Grandma pulled out her little sand-filled strawberry pin cushion and those orange handled scissors, I knew magic was about to happen. Ever since then, I was hooked. I was going to be a designer. If you can dream it, you can create it. What an awesome concept to teach a child.

When I got older, I (not surprisingly) attended the Fashion Institute of Technology and lived out my childhood fantasies. After graduating, I finally got to work in my beloved industry and try out as many roles as I could. I worked as a fashion designer, a textile designer, a color specialist and so on. However, nothing felt right. I realized that I was losing the sense of wonder I got as a child in the fabric store, and in Grandma’s sewing room. Working for others was destroying my drive to truly design and be creative. I decided I needed a drastic change. So, I packed up my life and moved to Denver, Colorado, a place I had only visited very briefly. A new beginning with the opportunity to start fresh and see things with a renewed sense of wonder.

Although, it felt right, following my gut-instinct and leaving a high paying job, has been frightening. Once again, I am learning from my family and getting inspired by the past. My father, although not a creative himself, founded Code American Engineering in 1983 as a technical Engineering and Design firm. He ran his office on the principles of hard work and impeccable precision, and I want to take this mind set and apply it to my own fashion brand. My business is Code American, an ode to my fathers hard work, and my family's creative spirit. Code American has reignited itself as a fashion and design house with an innovative outlook.

The dreams of my six-year-old self are finally starting to come to fruition. Fiber reactive dyeing, knitting, patternmaking! These are all the things that I get to do as a creative with my own business. Everything that I had learned in school, everything my grandma had taught me is coming together, and my creativity is exploding.

I absolutely love designing and creating custom items that people will cherish. I believe that I am here to design, to make people feel great about who they are and express themselves through the art of fashion. I want to give everyone the chance to ignite that little spark and realize true happiness, like I did as a child.

My grandma passed in 1995. She never got to see me graduate from a prestigious fashion school. She never got to see my first runway show at the tents of Bryant Park with Perry Ellis. She will, however, always be with me in the drive and integrity of my passion. Every time I hear the metallic zing of those orange handled scissors slicing into fresh cotton for the first time or pull a pin from her worn-out sandbag strawberry pin cushion; it reminds me of why I do what I do.

I’m dreaming. I’m creating and I can’t wait to see what’s next.