Everyone Needs a Friend Like Jess
Sisterhood is too cliche, but something like it.
I just had a girls weekend in Paris with my friend, Jess. It was a treat to travel with such a sharp, caring, fun and accomplished friend. She has the grace of a royal and the adventure of a gypsy. We shopped; we ate; we told stories. I loved learning more about her and understanding the pastiche that makes a great woman. If Jess were a crustacean, her shell would be bejeweled with the experiences of her life; a treasure comer of happenstances she carries. Notched into her periwinkle hut, one would find a Scottish coat of arms, a Dior button, and a Sunny D logo, right next to a soccer ball and tiny Raphael relief.
I am in awe of Jess often, and during our trip I could hear my ego knocking with a big bravado at the door, billowing how adult and under control things are for me. It’s easy to get insecure around people we admire. But Jess has long understood and believed in me, and that awareness can quiet my loudest doubts.
She has been one of my longest and oldest supporters, since I stepped out on the world stage with nothing but my life savings at the time ($50,000) and a garment bag full of samples. I met Jess when I was twenty five and was convinced I was going to leave my finance job, which I took to pay my student debt off in order to start one of my life’s dreams: a fashion company.
We met in Kendall Square at Tatte Cafe after first connecting on Twitter, and I got there early. I was excited that a female investor had reached out to me, and I thought there was a chance that she might understand my vision for the brand. And, as I think I had read on some entrepreneurial blog at the time, I brought my product samples as any good entrepreneur would. A whole season of them, in fact, on felted hangers in a black tumbledown garment bag that had come with a BCBG work dress I bought for my job. It was elephantine - at least 30 pounds between the metal hangers and the dozen items - and I lugged that thing up the Red line and down Mass Ave. like a henchman doing dirty work in the Sierra desert. It was my only set of samples, the only one I could afford to get made, and so my body bag accompanied me everywhere and to every investor meeting I got, no matter if it was a partner meeting in Palo Alto or an MIT cafe.
So there I sat in my vintage pink teddy decal sweatshirt and striped Forever21 dress, samples cascading over a small wooden cafe chair, nervously awaiting our fated meeting…
Though I cringe at the memory, Jess laughs when we talk about it now. She was not phased. She ended up becoming one of my first angel investors in Bow & Drape, and supported us in the roughest of patches - those times when additional investment (or in some cases, spot loans) makes all the difference. And Jess is as cool a capitalist as anyone: I know she did it not out of charity, but because she believed.
This notion continues to validate that we have people in our corner, no matter what we show up like. It’s so rare in life to have someone who believes in you and is not incentivized to do so. Family kind of counts, but it also kind of doesn’t. The truth is, even if our parents or friends believe in us, it doesn’t feel as awesome as it does from someone we look up to. To have a version of yourself you would like to be more like one day look back and you, extend a welcoming hand, and whisper, “Come sit over here at my table. We have champagne. And possibly caviar.”
Everyone should be so lucky to have someone like Jess in their lives. A stunning creature who has traveled the depths of the human ocean, gathering stories, and sharing them with a younger version of themselves. Everyone needs a friend like Jess.