Carly, the country-looking city girl

Carly made a vest from a shirt, and altered pants with strips of plaid down each side.











I have …

Carly

I have patches covering up my many colors

I have many different patterns in different personalities
I have what may look like a country style, but I’m a city girl at heart

I have buttons to show that I can really get into anything

I have contrasting colors to show how different I am
I have mess-ups because
I am an outfit and everyone makes mistakes.

Reed, her wrap-around skirt and "Funny Bunny" leg-warmers

Reed was taken with the spikiness of some spiky flowers she found photos of. Here, she's attaching spiky balls to her "Funny Bunnies."




Reed

I am the pretty flower that blooms on a cherry blossom tree.
I am the spotlight dancer in Swan Lake.
I am the first place horseback rider in the Kentucky Derby.
I an also invisible
because
I am a kid
I am that moldy cheese in the refrigerator
I am the stale chips in the pantry
I am the worst and best thing I can be
I am me

Beth and her skirts

One skirts made from two skirts -- and the second made from a shirt (?) on the last day.


I am…

Beth

I am the warmth of the beach, the coolness of the rainforest
and the stillness of the plains
I am the energy of a thunderstorm
I am the gracefulness of cherry blossoms
I am the clumsiness of waves crashing
I am the sweet and sour of grapes
I am the uneven and unpredictable hand sewn stitch
I am the sharpness of sapphire blue
I am the softness of silk
I am the conversation unspoken but heard
I am the one with the tell all eyes.

Riley, the once-orange shoes and zippered dinosaur skirt

Riley cut the toes off these orange pumps, then covered them in stripes of duct tape, and added detachable bows to the backs.

The zipper on the skirt really works -- and can keep very skinny things very safe.
























Riley

I am the shyness of the weeping willow…
I am the booming of the thunderstorm
that you fall asleep to…
I am the friend you never had…
I am not the person that you hate…
I am the person that you see swaying with the grass in the fields…
and the one you see just staring… staring into the open on the top of the mountain…
I am many things… then again I am not.

Becky and her modernized geisha dress

Becky

I am from the shores
of Japan
I am the sweet but sassy
attitude of Tokyo
I am the modern
and reinvented, stylish
geisha
I am inspiring and
new
I am like a sushi roll,
different and strange but you can’t
resist me, I’m just too delicious

Victoria and her Tulip Skirt

I am
Victoria

I am the bright flowers in the garden.
I am lima beans with their odd shape.
I am the swaying arms moving side by side.
I am the silky fabric sewn together.
I am the palm tree in the hot summer sun.
I am the mist that comes
when the ocean waves splash onto the beach.
I am the sweet fruit waiting to be plucked.
I will always be ME.

Abby, her thrift-store picks, first-day sketch, and fashion-show poems

Last week, 15 amazing girls (plus Leah and my mom) spent
the mornings in a gorgeous sun-lit studio (Mershon's 2nd floor dressing rooms!) -- being fashion designers in a workshop called Project Fashion Show, sponsored by The Wexner Center.

Here's Abby!
And here are her words:

I am the Lover (Poem about Me)
Abigail Bell

I am the lover.
I am the girl tipping back her bleach blond head on the cover of a ten cent paperback romance novel.
I am a gentleman, living by chivalry and loving those who need loved.
I am the protestor, hoisting picket fence signs and declaring truth.
I am the father, the mother, the older brother or sister, understanding what needs to be understood and risking all I have for all I care about.
I’m not a creator, I’m an interpreter.
I’m not a liar, I’m a story-teller.
I’m not the good guy, I’m the lover.

• • •

I am a Blue (Poem about My Clothes)
Abigail Bell

I am the iris of a newborn infant.
I am the shiny surface of a pond at night.
I am the boxers of a young man in the morning, sipping on coffee and practicing his speech.
I am the quiet truth hiding in scars underneath the sleeves of a jacket.
I am a blue that sings of sadness but, like a cocoon, can become joy.

• • •