This season the factory where I get my leather pieces made was completely booked. I only needed to make a few motorcycle jackets for production so I decided to do them in NY using the tailors that usually do single pieces or alterations for me. I have made a lot of bad decisions in my day but this one is right up there with doing a reality show about my line while working full time for a company that didn't want me doing my line. If only I could fire myself the way they fired me.
I did the original version of the jacket last Spring (above). I was wearing one while filming the aforementioned reality show and everyone liked it so we decided to do a new version for Intermix, who I was showing the collection to. When the Intermix buyers saw it they almost vomited*. Apparently the only thing they were more sick of than motorcycle jackets was the color military, which of course the jacket was in.
*As a side note the song "I shot the Sheriff" by Bob Marley was so popular when my mom was pregnant with me that she got physically sick of it, once throwing up in a department store when the instrumental version came on. So yes, it's possible to be literally sick of something.
But Intermix aside the jackets are gorgeous, they are the softest leather and I hand wash them then tumble dry a million times so they're perfectly worn in. Not only was I undaunted by Intermix's disgust, I proceeded to make even more, showing 4 different ones with my Spring collection.
I ended up getting orders on the military and ivory colorways. So back to production: step 1 - endure the NY leather sales people.
Calling them sales people feels so wrong as their intention is always you leaving the store empty handed. Last I checked (yesterday) you could get a double cheeseburger from McDonald's for $1.19. So why the fuck can't I touch a cow skin without someone screaming, "Mommy!!! Wait for someone to help you!!!" I don't have kids for a reason. DON'T CALL ME MOMMY.
Then you're off to buy zippers, of which each jacket has 5. I won't bore you with every step but lemme tell you, they all suck. We couldn't find the same ones we originally used which turned out to be a relic of hardware past, no one recognized the brand, including the guy I originally bought them from.
So finally we got the leather, lining, zippers, buckles, and labels and headed downtown to get some mother fuckin jackets made. Sheri, who had just started working for me, was assigned with this task. There are only two tailors on the lower east side that are capable of this kind of craftsmanship - Omar and René (names not changed to expose the guilty).
Now when you're heavy in the while-you-wait $3 hem game and you see a fresh faced young thing hittin the streets with 2k worth of leather you take notice. They were not giving up any piece of this job without a fight.....
Tune in tomorrow to see what happens! Oh the suspense!