Did fashion find me or did I find fashion? As a matter of fact, I am quite sure that fashion found me. I remember it clearly. My father took me and my brother Paakow on our weekly trip to my Uncle Richard’s house. The first thing my father always said to us when we got into the house was, “I DON’T WANT TO CATCH YOU UPSTAIRS WATCHING THAT TV!” he said in his thick Ghanaian accent. We were never allowed to watch the television in that forbidden room. If we watched it, it was like sneaking out of a prison cell to run away to freedom. I wasn’t supposed to turn the TV on that day, but I’m glad I did.
When I touched the dial on that old rusty television, my hands began to shake and my lips began to quiver. What was I doing? I was about to blatantly disobey my father and go against everything he told me. If my father caught me, I would be done for good. This is a man who would tell me I was irresponsible if there is one piece of paper on the floor, so I wasn’t exactly sure how he would react to this escapade. I finally decided that I didn’t care. My plan of attack was this; sneak up the stairs to “use the bathroom” after everyone has become lethargic from my aunties massive lunch and make my way quietly into the forbidden room. My plan went off smoothly and I ended up in the room sitting on the floor breathing heavily from the ducking and diving I did to get up the stairs. Standing, I stared blankly at the TV. Eventually I got tired of the staring and touched the dial. I do not understand why I was so drawn in, but the television sucked me in like a time machine waiting to export me to a marvelous wonderland. It was such a whimsical but almost dangerous experience. Seconds later, I was flipping through channels like a madwoman. I remember it so clearly. MTV on one channel, Disney on the next, BET on the next. I was treading on uncertain grounds so I decided that I wanted to rush out of the room fast, until I saw what changed my life forever. A fashion reporter said something like this, “This season is all about power dressing. As women are climbing up the corporate ladder they must have the clothes to match. If you want to be that a woman, Calvin Klein is your man.”
That runway was amazing. There was pulsating music and lights flashing all over the runway. The models seemed like skyscrapers to me with their lanky bodies. The first model came out with a gray suit and black stilettos. The next model came out with a classic black suit and amazing nude colored heels. The last suit is what sealed the deal for me. It was a clean cut, extremely tailored, and bright red. The model who wore it had on a straight face and extremely red lipstick.
Just as I was taking in the moment, I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and a husky African accent calling me by my Ghanaian name. It could only be one person; my Uncle Richard. If Uncle Richard was coming up the stairs, then my father would surely be next. “NANA ADWOA! WHERE ARE YOU? yelled Uncle Richard. “I HOPE YOU ARE NOT IN THAT ROOM WATCHING TV!” my dad chimed in. My knees buckled beneath me. What was I going to do? Being caught was almost like death. The only thing I could think of was jumping into the closet behind me. That closet was ridiculously small and even my tiny ten year old body couldn’t fit into it. My dad and uncle finally made their way into the room and starting searching frantically for me. My asthma started to kick in and I was breathing irregularly. Through the crack in the closet I saw my father looking under the bed, while my uncle looked in the space behind the bed. Oh no, I thought, the closet was the last place they could check. I began to sweat profusely and then I felt my father’s hand digging through the closet. Luckily, one of the doors of the closet was broken so my dad couldn’t get into the side I was on. This searching went on for about five minutes then my dad and uncle gave up and finally left. As soon as Uncle Richard and my dad left, I hopped out of the closet and smelled the fresh air. It was simply a miracle. I was massively grateful for the fact that I had been saved from the wrath of my father and that this new fashion world was an amazing discovery I would soon pursue.
Soon after, I began to search for fashion wherever I was. My mom had a subscription to Vogue and I read it religiously. If Fashion TV was on, I would watch it for hours. It became an addiction. I could even say that now it’s a disease. At this moment in my life, I could honestly say that I cannot survive without fashion. I dream about what outfit I’m going to wear the next day and when I wake up in the morning I have to log on to some fashion site on the web.
One day as I was tearing through one of my magazines, my father began to express his concern about my addiction. “All you do is read magazines and go on the computer to look at fashion. Isn't there something productive you could do? Is this what you want to do with your life? Ashley, what are you looking for?” That was his favorite question to ask me when the topic of my future came up. I answered my dad with this, “Daddy, remember the time when I was ten years old and you tried to catch me watching TV at Uncle Richard’s house? That is when fashion found me. I didn’t look for it, it searched for me and now I can never let it go.” From that point on I was able to face my father in any situation. I became fearless. Who knew me turning on that TV the time I did, would amount to all of this? Now I know what the rest of my life is supposed to be like, I thought, and it was all because fashion found me.
Love,
Ashley
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