When you attend as many as four fashion events in a week and no fewer than three in a month, over the course of at least one year, a lot of them tend to blend together in your mind. We have a surprising amount of fashion designers in Montreal, especially given the textile industry's decline here but, with that many fashion shows staged on a regular basis, you start to see the same designers, and sometimes the same pieces, over and over again.
Once in a while, you attend a show and you are highly entertained and left craving more. It could be the production level, the presentation of the garments, the designs themselves, the way guests and media are treated or, when you're really lucky, you're wowed with a lovely mixture of each of these elements. In the last year, I'd say that the Astri Prugger show, last winter, and the Melissa Nepton show SS15 show were the ones that really blew my mind.
All of this, coupled with the horrible cold I had been battling for a week, was probably why, although I was quite happy to cover this event (for not one, but two blogs), I wasn't expecting it to be the life-altering experience that it was.
On November 5th the
Logis Rose-Virginie hosted their 11th annual fashion fundraiser at the Windsor Ballrooms, on Peel Street. If you haven't already heard of this organization, I beseech you to click on the link. In all honesty, I had never heard of them before this year...
I was a street kid when I was seventeen, going from sleeping outside, by the Ottawa River and squatting in abandoned homes to living in a condemned building. I ate, showered and did my laundry thanks to a youth drop-in center and I experienced and witnessed things that, when recalled, leave me with the exhilarating feeling of feeling so grateful to be alive. For a year, I found a home, some stability and some peace. I moved to Toronto with a boyfriend, got a job and went to college. Then I got pregnant with my daughter and moved to Montreal. I was twenty years old, on welfare and five months pregnant. I let a string of negative people into my life, had my son less than two years later and found myself, at twenty-three, on welfare with a baby and a toddler, unable to afford my rent and bills. Knowing that I was about to lose my home, I placed my children with an aunt and uncle. Someone called child services on me, even though I had done right by my children, while I stayed with a friend and tried to find work and an apartment. I found a terrible flat, in Rosemont, and brought my lease and keys to child services just six hours before they were to revoke custody of my two children from me, despite the fact that I had always made sure they were clothed, fed, loved, happy and safe. I had never done drugs and I had never hurt my children but my pink hair and the fact that I wanted to be a fashion designer really irked my worker. The file stayed open for a year, while I constantly proved to these strangers that I could care for my children without looking like everybody else and aspiring to be an accountant or a nurse. I battled depression during this time and life had become my own hell.
Years later, when I had gone back to school, gotten a handful of great jobs and started to finally live with enough ease to ward off the blues and anxiety, I vowed that I would one day do something to help other single mothers. I thought it would be fantastic if I could get enough grants to fix up an old building so that I could provide mothers with a home and have 24/7 counselling available on site. I wanted to put a daycare on the ground floor so that nobody would have to run through snow banks to make it to class on time because their daycare, located three miles from their school, opened late or have to beg their teachers and/or employers to let them leave early so that they could spend food money on a cab to get their children before the daycare closes. I vowed that I would find a way to help and that if I could make sure that even one mom was spared the insanity that I had to live as I struggled to make it as a functional adult in what society now is, it would somehow make the memory of those times a good one.
...And so, I left my two-storey apartment, where I was working on my clothing collection and on my memoir, strong, confidant and at least one world away from the one I just described, finger curls in my hair and stiletto oxfords on my feet...
What a beautiful event this was! The open bar served up wine and cocktails and Le Pois Penché had prepared a delicious assortment of miniature foods, from crispy, baked shells laden with salmon tartare to a variety of maki to prosciutto and melon on batons. The air was festive as people bid on multiple items at the silent auction, had their fill of wine and mingled with new and old friends alike.
At eight o'clock, we took our seats and waited for the show to begin. As Caroline Codsi and Melanie Joly each took some time at the podium to inform people a bit more about who exactly they were helping out, I was floored.
Logis Rose-Virginie houses women in crisis for up to three years, providing them with 24/7 counselling and setting them up with the tools they require to get through detox, keep mental illness under control, get custody of their children back, go back to school, find work, etc.
It had always been this idea I'd had for "one day, when my business is successful enough" or "when I've built enough that I can prove to people who give out grants that I can undertake this sort of project" and, as I went about improving my own life, it somehow never occurred to me that I could do something to help an organization that already does this. Le Chainon has been on my list for a long time but, as previously mentioned, I had yet to hear about Le Logis. And so, the very first thing I can do to help is to tell you about them.
Up next, two women who currently live at Rose-Virginie shared their testimonials. They were tales of mental illness, addiction, dropping out, loss of child custody and more. There was barely a dry eye in the room and, when the last woman to speak told us that, after five years of spending Christmas away from her three children, she would get to spend the holidays with them, this year, unsupervised, thanks to the year-and-a-half of hard work she's put in while with the organization, I had to stifle a sob. Both women got standing ovations and the whoops of encouragement from the crowd encouraged more calls of "Bravo!" and everyone was smiling and applauding loudly.
There was a fashion show. Iris Setlakwe opened by showing some of her existing designs, which were modeled by local businesswomen. Afterward, some gentlemen came out to model clothing sold by Europa, this season. They had everyone whistling and clapping as they danced, pointed, occasionally shook their bottoms and strutted up and down the catwalk. The show ended with bang as Iris Setlakwe gave us a look at her SS15 collection. If you want to know more about the fashion show itself and see a few photos from that part of the event, I welcome you to check out the
piece I wrote for The Models' Coach. As much as I enjoyed the show, my heart was still swollen from what had come before and what I would like to do, and that's what remains at the forefront of my mind. You'll be reading more about Iris Setlakwe in just a bit, though, as I had the pleasure of hearing her speak, two days later.
You'll also be hearing more about Le Logis Rose-Virginie if I have anything to say about it. In a few months, I'll be launching a business that, among other things, will provide people with a fun way to donate to charity and, thanks to what I heard and saw on November 5th, I am putting Le Logis on the list of charities I will be helping out. You often hear of campaigns proclaiming that "fashion cares" and, once in a while, it really truly does! I urge you to buy a ticket to next year's event, as the 12th Défilé will be in celebration of Le Logis' 25th anniversary and don't worry about forgetting about it-- I'll remind you!
9:50 AM
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