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| People say, "Sisters?" No, they're very different: Di grew on a South Dakota wheat farm, Jo was a child of blue collar parents in a close Cleveland community. Di is Scandinavian; Jo's people are from the same small Eastern European land. Jo is an interior designer; so is Di, but she moonlights as the managing partner in a coffee house. Jo is sparky and childlike; Di is cool and peaceful. But there is no versus: only complementarity, life on the same page, deep sharing. If they were light, and they are, one would be the particle, the other the wave; and then you'd look again and they would have switched places. Each carries color chips and like boys rifling baseball cards they shuffle chips, sharing their marvel at favorites. They are sometimes an interior redesign team, and not long ago they told each other they just wanted to wear pajamas to the job, which involves some physical labor. They agreed that might be over the edge, that some clients wouldn't get it. Brainstorming possible work uniforms, they arrived at sweatshirts, which, they agreed, were comfortable, warm and - despite the name - relaxed. They also told each other sweats were saddled with sweat, with toil and hard and - more importantly- with grubby, grunge, comfy not pretty. These two are all about making it pretty and about play, and so they followed the thread to playing with sweatshirts to make them fresh, new, pretty, way beyond grubby and grunge. Each learned to cut, sew and fashion at mother's knee, when those maternal knees were under a sewing machine. First there were Barbi clothes, and then - mastering patterns - pretty clothes for themselves. Husbands and children came and so did gigs designing and making window treatments, pillows, duvets; Jo had a sportswear line. In the midst of husbands, children and making livings, there was always fabric, scissors, needles and thread. Thinking about sweats, uniforms and making it pretty, when a load of sweatshirt blanks came their way, Jo and Di began to play: South Dakota crafting the curves she loves, Cleveland flowing into the zigzag lightning bolt lines that reflect what in India is known as her pitta energy. Up for air, they understood they had been lost in play, and they liked what came because it reflected their commitment to adding value, recycling, comfort, wearing something that says: We want our lives to be joyful, free, and fun. They talked about how these garments are sculptural and asymmetrical by intent; how it's hard to make a mistake when you're in the flow. How it's not easy to think out of the box unless you understand and are able to work within the box. They agreed they could surrender their beloved color for the monochromatic intricacies of these soft forms. They knew they hadn't arrived at pure play; they'd made products people will pay for. But the making was a delight in itself, and they decided that shows in the garments, and that they say (softly): Play not toil; pretty and hip, not grubby functional. They had repurposed sweat shirts into livingloose playshirts, which fly the flag of their intent to repurpose their lives so they no longer have to try so hard, and can (sometimes) frisk, frolic and gambol. |
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