Zoe of verbal croquis is one of my first ever fashion blog friends.  When I found out she was a finalist (and eventually, winner) for the Gen Art competition way back in 2006 I immediately bought my bus ticket to New York City so I could go and meet her.  We were instant friends and kindred spirits. Despite all the bright lights of NYC my favourite memory of that trip is wearing kimonos and having long conversations in Zoe’s hotel room.

Zoe’s a born fashion designer whose natural ability is matched by her work ethic.  Her blog, verbal croquis, is an incredibly candid and passionate perspective on the rewards and risks of her calling and the archives are a recommended resource for anyone who has fashion fever.  I asked her a few more questions about this thing called fashion.

What are you working on these days?

I’m in month 8 of my year-long no-plan plan, just trying to work and play and make as many cool things as possible and make some money along the way in as undisciplined a manner as my OCD, anal-retentive, type-A, order-loving little heart will allow. I used my corsetmaking knowledge to make some belts-that-don’t-keep-your-pants-up. I made a wedding dress. I made things for myself for the first time ever. I bought myself a drawing horse and drew a lot, which I hadn’t had time for in a long time. I collaborated with some interesting people.

Right now, I’m working on my next collection. When will it be done? What’s it look like? I don’t know. There’s no plan. It’s scary and fun at the same time. Like a roller coaster. I just hope I don’t get stuck like the folks at Great America last week.

In such a saturated, competitive and mature market, what do you think the better options are now for someone who wants to live the life of a fashion designer?

Someone “who wants to live the life of a fashion designer” or someone who wants to be a fashion designer? Haha.

With the Consumer Product Safety Improvement and Design Piracy Prohibition Acts, it gets harder and harder every day to be a fashion designer. At the same time, with all the niche markets, more people, both sellers and buyers, interested in becoming less mainstream, and websites like Etsy, it’s easier to be a designer than before. It all depends on what kind of designer you want to be.

If you want to cater to a small niche, or a very particular market, sell small volume of some amazing, precious items, I think the market will always support you. If you want to be the next Karl Lagerfeld, prepare for the long road. He’s developed this persona he loves of the amazing man who achieved everything from effortless genius but that’s a crock of crap and I doubt even he’s so deep into his own image to believe it completely.

I have always said, to people interested in fashion and anyone else who’s asked me, life is too short and work consumes too much of our time and energy to not pursue the thing you absolutely love the most in the whole wide world. The industry and the economy will weed itself. (How’s that for stream of consciousness?)

How do you see the role of fashion designers changing as we enter the next decade?

You know what would be awesome? If designers could go back to being designers instead of faces for their brand. My worst nightmare is for everyone to know about my engagement, my rehab, my latest zit, galavanting about at parties to amuse buyers into buying–and I’m just talking about the stuff I read in WWD headlines. I am one of the least ‘hip’ people I know. I’m happiest in my studio, knee deep in oak tag clippings and croquis. Parties scare me. At the same time, I want to be a successful designer with the respect of my peers, known in my industry without the pop celebrity.

What is it about fashion that holds your fascination?

The excuse to dream. Being a fashion designer is having a ready-made excuse to dream of the most amazing things and try to fabricate them and call it “work” and sometimes even get paid. The rest, ordering, costing, invoicing, grading, measuring, the caffeine swilling, the band-aid wearing, the head-scratching, the teeth-grinding, it’s the price you pay for the privilege of having that excuse.

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