The alarm sounds at 6:15am and my eyes were wide awake. Shower, eat, check the mirror and head to class. It was first day of sophomore year and I think my nerves were at an all time high, stomach in knots, and hands shaking a little bit. I pulled open the door and walked into the building that would be my sanctuary for the next three years. It was go time; it was the day I'd been waiting for since I was eight years old. The first day of fashion classes.
For most people college entails reading and studying, and more reading and more studying with occasional parties and whatever else normal college students do. For us, it entails a variety of critique, long hours spent on sewing machines, a pencil and sketchbook, and taking harsh criticism on the daily. The phrase, "back to the drawing board" is said a disgusting amount of times before anything is actually approved and the idea changes about 4 million times before it you even start designing. Regardless of how many ideas are ridiculed, or how many times a day I'm warned about this cut throat environment, I still proceed and I still love it.
I wake up everyday and think about how lucky I am; I get to do what I've dreamed of as a kid. There is no distinction between school and fun because it all goes in the same category. Endless amounts of excitement wash over me at the thought of going to class and doing homework. There's nothing I've wanted more in life than to be right where I am now.
I would hope everybody has the chance to enjoy the same luxury of having a dream fulfilled- it's the best feeling ever.
The heels clacked on the wooden floor as more people walked in the room. We all looked around at one another and facilitated small talk before our professor came in. The nerves were instantly settled when he made a joke and displayed his extroverted, opinionated personality. We engaged in a great discussion about fashion week; the fact that I wasn't the only talker assured me that this would be my home for the next three years.