These were the last photos taken using my camera before it was brought to the shop. Will get it back, with brand new lens, by the end of the month.
Knit cardigan, thrifted
Sneakers, Helmut Lang
Necklace, Bosquejo prototype
Today I can finally breathe, even if just a little. After delivering a first batch of necklaces at House of Laurel (please drop by this Friday for the Russe collection launch!) and before continuing with the second Hardware and first Sacre collections for Bosquejo, not to mention getting busy with research for a new TV show (hope it gets the final Go signal), I can afford to blink.
Just when I thought that I could drop everything (except my day job of course, which is now offering a broader horizon) and just concentrate on writing poetry starting on my 30th year, suddenly I find myself reconsidering. The contract for this year's blogging for Benetton has just expired (hence, no more posts), but I feel compelled not to turn down an offer to renew it for next year. I know it seems suicidal to continue with it while agreeing to write for a weekly TV show, but I just don't want to regret wasting opportunities.
The opportunity cost of course (an inevitable investment term) is that the longer I delay giving my all to poetry (for the muse is very jealous), the more any literary future grows dimmer. Some people are surprised when I tell them I do not love fashion, or even designing and creating accessories by hand. They are engaging and totally absorbing, but only in poetry (at the risk of sounding cheesy) do I lose myself, where nothing is definite, and where the struggle produces something unexpected. Only in the act, ironically, do I fully get to know myself.
I know I am whining again. The last hour spent editing photos and writing this could have been spent writing a new stanza, but I suppose this is what blogging is for. Since I do not write prose, this serves as my journal (hijacked from a menswear/style blog, haha).
I have little time left.* I am fully aware that I cannot keep all doors open, though right now I am somewhat convinced I can enter all of them. Even so, my ultimate fear remains: to be a jack of all trades and a master of none. Also, I am tired of being a coward.
*My literary biological clock is ticking, and I have to publish my first book soon. In other words, it's now or never.