I parked my car on a quiet side road off Main Street, a half block away from my destination. This could go horribly wrong. Was I ready? Yes. I had what I needed and I had a clear objective. I took a deep breath. I’ve done other things that I once thought were impossible, like run an ultra-marathon, bike-camped solo through the Greek Islands, started my own business and confronted an armed robbery suspect. But this was different. I was about to walk into a situation that would increase my heart rate and hurl me out of my comfort zone. But I was ready. Ready for my first shopping party.
In 2008, Seonaid Robinson and her mother, Margaret, opened Bottoms Up Clothing Co. on Bowen Island and re-located to Vancouver in 2010. I discovered their shop when I got re-acquainted with Main Street a few weeks ago. I love to support owner-operated businesses and especially, mother-daughter partnerships. “I hate shopping” I said. “Wait. That’s not true. I’m working on this. So let’s say, I’m open to learning how to love shopping again”. “Well, we’re having a private party in a few weeks if you’d like to join us?” asked Seonaid. “Uh, okay,” I said. And before I could chicken out, I handed her my business card for the invitation list. The lure of free wine helped me say yes, and also knowing that Winston would be there as the Official Bottoms Up Greeter. Winston was a large, laid-back three-year-old mixed-breed dog who sat in front of the floor length mirror while wearing a lime green satin tie. This was my kind of place. When did I start to hate, uh, get scared of shopping? I used to love clothes! As a teenager I was into the Mod scene and it was all about looking cool in smart British fashions. Standing-out and being different was the whole point. Up to my mid-20’s, I had a closet full of fun clothes, earrings for every outfit and bracelets of every colour. It started to change in my late-20’s, when I became a police officer. I started on street patrol and wore the issued black uniform. Sameness was in and being different was out. I then worked “plainclothes” for five years and my uniform was dark jeans and oversized black or grey t-shirts to cover my bullet-proof vest. My hair was safely contained under a dark baseball cap. No earrings, no rings. The whole purpose of plainclothes was to blend into a crowd. When I left policing in my late-30’s and started my own dog training company, I wore dog-appropriate work clothes that were equally dark and boring. Fashion makes you stand out. I was no longer comfortable with that and I wanted that back. I wanted my love of colour, my love of uniqueness and my love of funky clothes, back. But it had been so long that I didn’t know how to do it anymore. About a year ago I started to make baby steps. A pink scarf here, a silver ring there. I had the desire to change and the vision of what I wanted. Now I just wanted somebody to help with the "how-to". I think Seonaid was my girl. I walked into the Bottoms Up party and was greeted by Winston. Thank God. Hi Winston! A few minutes with him and my heart rate slowed. Good boy, Winston. “Winston, you are my official retail therapy assistance dog tonight,” I said as I glanced around the 900 or so square foot shop. “I made it, I’m here, and I just need to do half an hour,” I chuckled. “Winston, stay close.” “Hi, welcome, thanks for coming,” said Seonaid. “What flavour of white wine would you like?” “Anything, thank you,” I said. A dog, and a glass of wine. This shopping thing might be fun. I had two fifty dollar bills in my pocket. A small amount for a shopping party but an amount I found challenging to spend. I know I have a few beliefs that add to my shopping resistance. How can I possibly enjoy a hundred dollar pair of jeans while there are children starving in Somalia? I’m still working through this, but I have recently accepted that whether or not I help the world’s hungry is independent of the type of cloth that covers my butt. Oh god. Winston, where are you? “Ok, so how does this party work?” I asked. “You can just shop or you can tell me what you are looking for,” says Seonaid. “Ok, I’m definitely going to need your help, please. I need tops. Don’t let me leave without one or two tops. No t-shirts. I would like something nicer, but still casual. And I’d love to try them on with a pair of jeans too.” I said. “Ok, do you want short or long-sleeves?” she asked as she glanced at my lower body and pulled a pair of dark denim off the shelf. “Short, please. And feminine, without being frilly. No sweaters.” I said. “It would really help me if you could just bring me a bunch of stuff to try on.” “Okay, let’s get you set up in a change room.” she said. I glanced at the jean label and almost called out for her when I saw the size. “She’s way off, size 29, no way, I’ll have to put my pants back on now, go get another pair,” I muttered. I thought of Winston. “Ok, stop it, slow down, be open, just say yes, put them on,” I counter-argued. They fit perfectly. She’s good. “How do you do that?” I laughed. “I’ve been doing this a long time, sixteen years, and well, I’m pretty good at it” she said with a smile. As I settled into the change room, glass of wine in hand, Seonaid brought me a variety of tops and fine-tuned the selection after asking questions of what I liked and didn’t like. She checked in often and her timing was perfect. I finally chose a fitted, teal top with flared short-sleeves from a Canadian company called Orb. I bought an identical one in purple. Baby steps. Fortunately, I like to explore and laugh at my quirky little fears that I’m knocking off my list. I was inspired by Seonaid because not only did she find fashion fun, she found it easy. It would seem that one person’s hesitation is another person’s strength. “You’ve done it” becomes “I can do it too”. We just need to connect with somebody who thinks it’s fun and easy. Wow, how awesome would everyone become? And a dog wearing a neck tie always helps too. © 2011 Michelle Sevigny. www.michellesevigny.com. Reprint permission granted with full copyright intact. Photo by Nina Matthews Photography My heart was beating against my chest like an angry tenant banging on the wall of a noisy neighbour. As the needles pierced my skin, I thought, I can’t believe I am doing this. Doing it now. Today.
I had two tattoos already. Both of which I had gotten in my early 20’s. I don’t regret them, since they represent my impulsive nature of the time, but they don’t have significant meaning. I always knew I would get more tattoos. I love them. I love the artistry. I love the significance. In my early 40’s, the idea of a new tattoo re-surfaced. But I was going to wait until I had a vision. I love books. I love quotes. I love words. About a year ago, an image of a word tattoo popped into my mind. Whenever I thought about my four favorite words, one of which is ‘create’, I burst into tears. What’s up with that? I wasn’t sure, other than, clearly it had an impact. Was I not getting enough creativity? Did I want more creativity? Did I need more creativity? Create. Create my business life. My working life. My personal life. What does creativity mean? It means growth. It means change. It means ….? Tattoos of ‘create’ swirled around my head. I knew I wanted it somewhere where I could see it. All the time. Everyday. I create stories with my right hand. Yet, I can also create my ideal meal. Create my ideal day. Create my book. Create my life. Create. That was it it. Then what? What design? As I want to be a writer, an old school typewriter font sprang to mind. That was it! ‘Create’ in a typewriter font. Right wrist. I saw it. I had created the vision of my next tattoo and then I waited until the place and timing was right. I checked out various tattoo places in Vancouver and Liquid Amber Tattoo was one of them. It’s in Gastown. I love Gastown. I have thought about moving to Gastown. It is a company started by women and focused on women artists. As a woman entrepreneur, I loved that. I had the vision, I had the place. Why was I not making it happen? If I got honest about it, I was hesitant because I knew it was going to be an emotional experience. I might burst into goddamn tears right there in the studio! Not because of pain, but because of the deep sense of joy that comes from doing what was always meant to be done. I was hesitant to show my vulnerability. For whatever reason, or perhaps, for a variety of reasons, June 9th was the day. I was ready. I already had an unbelievable morning which started with an amazing walk with my dog. It was sunny. I had Temper Trap in the CD player. These are things on my Awesome List that instantly put me in bliss mode. I drove downtown, parked and walked into the shop. My intention was to check it out, and if I had a good gut feeling, I was going to commit. Luvia and Rene were seated at the welcome area and were awesome. They answered my questions and Rene printed off a stencil for me to see. Perfect, I loved it. I wanted it done right away and luckily, she was available. About 20 minutes later she was done. I looked at my new wrist. Create. It was like it was always meant to be there. Like I wasn’t surprised it was there and yet, completely overjoyed that it was. I got instructions on the after care and left the shop. A few minutes later, I was driving across the Second Narrows bridge and as I glanced at my bandaged wrist, my chest tightened as tears clung to the edge of my lower lids. I had permanently inked ‘create’ on my body and I experienced a deep sense of joy, contentment and, fulfillment. I couldn’t even see my tattoo under the bandages yet the vision of it was so strong, that I saw it and knew it was there. © 2011 Michelle Sevigny. www.michellesevigny.com. Reprint permission granted with full copyright intact. Photo by Michelle Sevigny I love spontaneous car camping weekends. But I’m a camper with a money quirk and it irked me to buy firewood at Chevron for $6.95 plus tax.
Last spring I decided, no more gas station firewood for me. I was going to find a different source of wood. Free wood. I spent an hour surfing craigslist and there was free wood out there alright, but it was mainly freshly fallen trees (too wet), cut into rounds (too big) and needed to be picked up (pain in the butt). "The hell with this, this is too much work," I muttered. “Ask for what you want” flashed into my head. Yes! Visualize what you want, write it down, the more specific the better, and then ask for it. You might call it setting achievable goals, focusing on what you want, asking the universe or believing in The Secret. Whatever you call it, I have had amazing success in the past with this mantra. While I generally did this with large purchases, would it work with something as trivial as firewood? “Ok then, seriously, I’ll take a whack of dry firewood, in fact, a whole shopping buggy full, cut into 1/4 rounds, delivered to my door, and free,” I said aloud. I scribbled it out on a scrap of paper and called it a night. The next day, I returned home in the late afternoon and parked my Honda in my underground parking spot. I jostled my overflowing grocery bags as I walked towards the main entrance door and was involved in a spontaneous foot chase after a fleeing California avocado. When I finally captured the fugitive fruit, I was right beside a blue Wal-Mart shopping buggy and looked up to see a cart full of firewood, cut into ¼ rounds. A ‘FREE WOOD’ sign written in black ink on a sheet of white 8” x 11 ½” paper was stuffed amongst the wood. I chuckled, “wow, that was fast! ”. I plopped my grocery bags on top of the wood pile and unlocked the door like any other day. © 2011 Michelle Sevigny. www.michellesevigny.com. Reprint permission granted with full copyright intact. Photo by Michelle Sevigny |