When I was young, my heart was set on becoming a fashion designer. At 10 years old, I was reading "Vogue" religiously as if it were the Bible, pouring over the beautiful images of women dressed in fabulous creations. During one of the many summers of my youth, My grandmother (who was a docent at her local art museum) took me to an exhibition of a famous costume designer who grew up in the area. I was completely enamored with the beautiful designs, entranced by the way the fabrics transformed the body.
From that moment on, I knew I wanted to design beautiful clothing for people to wear.
I remember doodling dress silhouettes in the margins of my homework, much to the chagrin of my fifth-grade teacher. I also had a little sketchbook that I purchased from a museum shop where I would keep all my creations. I shared my dream of becoming a world-renowned fashion designer with anyone who would listen. They were all encouraging, of course: a lot of them even asked me to design gowns for them. I felt like I was going down the path of so many designers before me. I could've been the next Coco Chanel if I kept on my path. I imagined opening boutiques in cities all across the world, of designing for celebrities, of watching models walk down the runway at my shows during Paris Fashion Week.
But, that all changed very quickly.
It was during a middle school presentation in 5th grade that crushed my dreams. The presenter was discussing all the different programs that were offered at the middle school for students who were interested in pursuing a highly specialized education. I raised my hand and asked if there were any programs for fashion design, hoping to kick-start my career early.
The whole cafeteria laughed.
Trust me, it really happened. I remember crying after it happened, embarrassed that I had been laughed at by the entire fifth grade. Fashion design wasn't something boys did. Fashion design was only for girls. Only gay men made clothing and what 10-year-old boy would want to be seen as anything less than a man? I stopped talking about fashion, I stopped drawing. I completely lost my passion for what I thought would be my career.
Looking at my life now, I feel like I made the wrong choice. I'm constantly questioning myself and my choices. Did I really want to receive my degree in English? Do I really want to become a writer? a professor? I feel like a fraud whenever I ask these questions, a phony. Is this really the life I imagined for myself?
People say it's not too late to start, but it is.
It's so hard to make a career change after I've already planned everything out. I've gotten back into fashion, of course, but I'm not in a comfortable position to try to get back into design. However, there is a light at the end of the dark tunnel that is my life
I see myself becoming a contributor for "Vogue" magazine. I would love to write about fashion, about the artistry of it. I've been applying to various retail positions in high-end stores, hoping to get a job there so I might be able to work with clothing like I've always wanted to. But, many see it as a poor career move.
One day, I'll hopefully achieve my dreams.