“Behind all your stories is always your mother’s story, because hers is where yours begins.” - Mitch Albom
For me, everything ceased when I lost my mom; the grandmother she would’ve been and the daughter that she was. The Korean trendsetter, innovator, leader, and creator of all things beautiful; her life in fashion was devoted to dressing all women for every walk of life, runway or otherwise.
She had always been my muse, and I was not alone. To thousands, she was a real life cover model for every style. A mystical epitome in bohemian, sultress in satin, sweetheart in skirts, androgynous in slacks, she was both a utilitarian and a progressive. A novelist in fashion, and deliverer of dreams, she was for her clientele as an everywoman, capable at everything.
Her dynamic style was conceived on the bustling streets of Seoul, Korea, and eventually took flight, migrating to the Western Hemisphere, landing her in sunny California, August, 1988. It was here in the budding fashion district of Los Angeles, where she birthed both her label and her own muse, in the form of her only daughter, me.
For twenty-eight long years, her mystic fashion factory filled hundreds of thousands of orders, clothing women around the world. It seemed that her reach had no limits. Watching her, however, I knew that her passion projects, the special designs, had all waited until the demands of the masses had been met. She was patiently waiting for the moment where her genius could emerge, her moment.
That moment never came. A sudden and abrupt health decline took a hold of her, forcing her to halt all factory operations and tragically, in 2018, she passed away, carrying away my hopeful heart with her.
It seemed so unfair, so illogical that the woman who always put others first, had been taken ahead of her time. As I grieved, I could see the glow of her warmth begin to fade as the factory shut its doors. The light of her passion shone onto so many slowly dimming as I saw that no matter how beautiful a story can be, as all things begin, so do they end; in stillness.
Standing within this stillness, this seemingly life-long yet momentary pause, I realized that if seized, moments like these can encapsulate the simplistic symmetry between the closure of something beautiful and the emergence of something new. I knew that while her time had missed its mark, her legacy could still continue. She had taught me by example that a bold clarity exists between our inspiring past and even brighter future. To continue her story and create my own, I knew that I must step past the pain and into the space between, fully. We must all enter that space and be still, present that it is enough.
To begin again, we must CEIICE.