Eleven Months

Today is an anniversary of the day I lost my speech. In the past eleven months I’ve put a lot of work into getting it back. Yes it’s still not perfect but, like a limp, it’s a minor inconvenience.

I awoke this morning a changed man. It’s vitally different waking up in the morning when I have a dress to work on. I’d been adrift in lethargy until I wrote the doily dress story; it brought me back to creative life. It feels so good to be back.

And I’m not frantic about doing this one. I’m calmly and steadily progressing and I really like this change of pace from the obsessive approach of my past. Is it the Cipralex?

Every dress until this one began with a desire to indulge my obsessive nature. The first two dresses both involved a gazillion feathers, then there were a zillion pearls and it built to a universe of wheat. This dress came from a desire to create its architecture; I’m branching out.

I have four more show dresses and one functional dress for Charlotte to make. I think they’re going to originate from technique too, rather than in a desire for mindless repetition; I think I’m going to enjoy my process more than ever.

This afternoon, the service for a Tyrell “cousin,” recently passed away. I’ll be with several relative strangers, then champagne and dinner with Robin.