For me it was an emotional
moment, sitting in the semi-dark in the audience, Phil and Stefanie, Deb and
Colin, and my sister at my sides as we waited for the show to begin. Oh, let me
just interrupt my unchecked tears here by adding that thanks to a perfect storm
of Deb’s computer somehow deleting Colin’s e-ticket which prompted a contrite
visit to the box office combined with Colin’s shall we say Recognizability
Quotient, instead of all of us being seated in a hodgepodge throughout the
auditorium (each of our assigned-seat tickets had been purchased separately and
so we were all seated apart), we were graciously whisked to THE FRONT ROW and
seated all together!! Yes, fame does have its privileges. And I was happy to
partake thereof! Thanks, Colin *mwah*!!
Okay, back to my maternal
sobbing. For the record, I didn’t expect to be so overwhelmed with emotion. I
don’t know why. One would think, given my close relationship with my daughter,
knowing that this would be her last school-inspired fashion show, that she
would be facing her future and most probably one involving a move out of our
city and most likely the country, I would’ve been inclined toward heavy emotion
going in. But I think I was too elated and excited. More distracted by the
promise and potential and—because I know her collection so well—so filled with
parental pride about how it turned out that I forgot to be wistful. Instead, we
all met for dinner before the show and feted Stefanie and laughed and caroused
and I was just feeling so so good.
Flash forward to the lights
going down and us sitting side by side in that theatre and the music starting
up and my emotions suddenly and unexpectedly swelling and shifting to those of
the proud mom who’s watched her child grow from a baby (who at 18-months would
routinely pull herself out of her crib to change into elaborate outfits then
crawl back into bed where we would find her later, sound asleep, peacefully
donning—over pajamas—layers of swank tops, several posh necklaces, and a
bedazzled headband or two) to a crayon-carrying child (no blank page would go
left undrawn) to a fashion-curious teenager who HATED to sew, to a first year
fashion design student (who had to turn down an opportunity to go to a top
American university and who shouldered the disappointment with grace and
determination) with lots of talent but only basic skills, to a mature and
dedicated young woman who works two jobs (one as a paid design assistant at amazing
Canadian fashion house, Greta Constantine, and one at super-cute retail store,
Frock), designing several illustrations for online mags, while also going to
school full-time, honing her sewing skills, developing her creative talent, and
designing and building the extremely work-intensive collection you see here.
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| Stefanie and I holding the gorgeous programs--yes, those are her dresses in the spread. Behind the mag, Deb, Colin and my sister, Nicole. |
It all came rushing at me as
the music started and the show began and I had to literally hold myself in my
seat to prevent myself from grabbing my daughter and clutching her to my chest
and sobbing out loud.
But the show did go on—and it
was a magnificent display of talent and vision. Every student was required to
design and create 5 outfits from any category they chose. There was everything
from ballet tutus to Shakespearean costumes to bondage-wear to wearable art to
men’s and children’s fashion to outfits for the fashion-conscious woman of
today. Stefanie chose to design for women—and that’s the market she sees
herself designing for in the future. Clothes that are classy and still sexy,
that are beautifully and lovingly crafted, that are timeless while also being
fashion forward. I know I’m her proud mother, but I also know what I like—and I
LOVE her collection.
I also love the girl, this
daughter of mine, who never stops dreaming and creating and pushing herself, no
matter what the obstacles. Both my daughters constantly remind me that this is
the joyful and courageous way we all should—and can—be living our lives every
day.
Deb: I was praying that Barb was going to blog about Stefanie
today. If she didn’t, I would have. Colin and I love Stefanie and have always
stood in awe of her considerable talent and grace. Stefanie was nervous last
night although you would not have known it until she said so. That is part of
her charm. I had seen the sketch designs and knew they were good. I started to
realize just how good, when we got there and found out that her designs would
be closing the show. Then we saw them and knew why. They were ethereal and
wearable, fanciful and edgy, sophisticated and sexy. They were Stef.
As I sat in that theatre I had my own feelings ruminating in my
head, as this was the school that I had attended for four years, and we were in
the theatre where I had done all my shows.
And for the record it did not look smaller. And I remembered how it felt
after the last show I was in and how, although scared, I felt I had the world
at my feet. I hope Stefanie feels that
way. Because she does.
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| The dresses are all silk chiffon, with details in leather and wool. |
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| Us at the end of the show (Nicole took the pic!). |
All photos: Philippe Ayoub, all dresses by Stefanie Ayoub. All rights reserved.
PS You can see more of Stefanie's work here.
