Setting the Scene

Let me set the scene for you. When I started reading If You Have to Cry, Go Outside, I was 5 months pregnant with my first child, a girl (thank God, I can't do superhero anything) and part of the package is that your growing uterus crowds out your bladder. So most nights, at around 4 AM and sometimes more than once, I had a sharp bathroom urge that every pregnancy app warned me about. Then I crawled back into bed and couldn't fall asleep. Luckily, the screen dimming function on my iPad allowed me to get through a few chapters of the book without disturbing my husband. That is how I read most of If You Have to Cry, Go Outside.

While I read my little fetus moved around and kicked. If you’ve never been pregnant, I would describe this sensation as similar to eating a large piece of steak in one bite and your stomach tirelessly trying to digest it. In the interest of full disclosure, I’m not really into red meat and have never eaten a full steak.

For several consecutive nights over the next few months, I was experiencing internal motion: some from my child, some from Kelly Cutrone.

A little about me to start. (Since this blog is a reflection, my own little reading companion – along with the human fetus reading companion – a lot more about me will definitely surface.) I am interested in almost everything: Marc Chagall, medicinal benefits of Himalayan salt, production of The Seven Samurai, the Vietnam War, Spice Girls limited edition whatever, Peru. You name it - I want to hear about it. Which naturally lead me to a career in finance. 

I didn’t fall in love with finance. I wasn’t part of those guys. I wasn’t a stock picker (I’m not one now either) or an Excel junkie (but I have since become a motherloving guru). I was a huge fan of economics and international development. My undergraduate thesis was called “Mo’ Money, Mo’ Problems: The Detrimental Effects of Microfinance on Economic Development.” I don’t fit the mold, on the surface. But I am intense and smart and tenacious. I was aggressive (and I think a part of me still is).

I knew a girl from high school who worked as an investment banker. I asked her to keep an eye out for jobs for me and soon she had an opening at her firm. On last interview (of like eight), the one comprised solely of “hot seat” accounting questions, the unthinkable happened. An earthquake hit. No, seriously, an earthquake hit downtown Toronto and my interviewer didn’t notice. We were on the 28^th floor of the office tower and my swivel chair began to bounce and the water in my glass began to shake. My interviewer continued on as if nothing happened, which could only have meant one thing: I had lost my mind. Some people get a twitching eye, others a quivering lip, I was having visions.

Plate tectonics and a global recession couldn't hold me back and I got my investment banking gig. I can’t cover it up, it’s a huge part of who I am. Even now, after 18 months of funemployment. It taught me to ask the right questions, analyze the "too right" answers and hold people's feet to the fire. It was a career move that for three years tested my patience, resourcefulness, attention to detail, late night stamina and general learning ability.

It's a very sink or swim culture and this escalated very fast. My first all nighter was over Saturday-Sunday of my first week of employment. Then I started absorbing everything, quickly. You know how sometimes you look back at yourself, maybe read an old e-mail or see an old pic, and you think “Agh, I can’t believe I said that, that’s so stupid” or “I can’t believe I wore that, it’s so ugly?” Ultimately, you reflect on your improvements over months or years. In my case, it was happening literally every couple of minutes. Whatever I was wondering about at noon seemed absolutely obvious by half past. It was overwhelming each time to realize what an idiot I had been to ask some questions or make certain proposals. Even accounting for the 100 hour work weeks, in office tension and competition, along with an unpredictable work schedule, I miss the learning the most.

Reading Kelly’s book is injecting that growth experience into me, reminding me of lessons I had forgotten and highlighting the ones I had learned but hadn’t fully digested. It’s not that I don’t care about fashion – I'm an art lover and I care about beautiful things – but I'm interested in the business more. My first taste of Cutrone came in Winter 2010 and it had nothing to do with clothing or accessories.

So why am I keeping a journal while reading Kelly Cutrone? I needed to jot down my thoughts and get a dialogue going – even if it is an internal one.