"Opening Bell"

Many of you in your requests for me to continue blogging relayed how much you wanted to know what goes on in my daily life (most from beginning to end). At first, I started to think to myself, “But isn’t that already what I talk about???" However, after going through a few of my previous post and reading over your requests, I believe I now know exactly what you meant.

Today, I will simply focus on what I have begun to refer to as my morning's “opening bell.”

During off-peak days (no shows, no events, and no interviews) I usually wake up between 8:00 and 8:30 a.m. On peak days I wake up between 7:00 and 7:30 a.m. knowing that the day is going to be extremely hectic… Now 7:30 a.m. might sound a bit late to some, but please keep in mind that I very rarely fall asleep before 2:00 a.m. and that my office is only one flight down.

Well no matter what time I wake up, by the time I do, I always find myself waking up to the vibration of my cell phone riddled with text messages and alerts. Both of which I find equally as annoying but 100% necessary in “my line of work “

I know, I know – the more I write this post, the more I sound like either a Wall Street trader or a lady of the evening… And to be quite honest, the life of a fashion designer is a little of both…

Most of the time my first message of the morning is from a colleague and/or friend living in Europe, Asia or The Middle East. Most of the messages are either requests for assistance on my end or filled with useful information previously requested from their side of the world. Every now and then I receive an early morning message from one of my knucklehead friends that decided it would be funny to call me at 3:00 a.m. from some wild party to inform me exactly what it is they believe I had been missing… Usually I am missing absolutely nothing.

Well, soon after I go through these messages deciding whether to hit reply or delete, I stumble my way into the kitchen for my morning's cup of tea. I must admit that I am a caffeine junkie. I start out with a cup of black-tea then I work my way up to a large cup of hazelnut coffee. Now I know this doesn’t sound important in the scheme of things, but you must know that I purposely overdose myself on caffeine in the morning in order to reach an almost intoxicated state. I swear, by the time I walk my dog (Harlem) at 9:00 a.m. I am completely punch-drunk. Luckily the effects of the caffeine usually wear off after my 30 minute speed walk through the local park and across the campus of New York’s City College.

Upon returning to the brownstone, I quickly feed Harlem, change into my “work fatigues” then I spend at least ten minutes rough housing and teasing my boyfriend Tyson (side bar: one of the great things about being in a gay relationship is that if you are lucky, you and your partner eventually become like two adult men that never grow up… Not at all like the heterosexual Peter Pan syndrome, but more like a Lord of the Flies Disorder). At last, I run down stairs to give my morning greetings to our mini-staff /interns and then I go immediately to my computer – my sanctuary – my connection to the world – my Harlem Stock Exchange.

Upon opening my email account, I can judge my own personal stock based on how many emails are in my inbox. Not the stock from my non-existing financial portfolio, but my own personal stock also known as Mal Sirrah.

Keep in mind this has nothing to do with my personal ego - but everything to do with the Mal Sirrah brand. All of these little things matter - press clippings, orders, invites, Google analytics, scandals, words of encouragement, endorsements, etc. In today’s climate these little things eventually begin to mature, to attract investors, often fluctuate and if played just right - finally become valuable assets. But for now, I keep my eyes focused on the market ticker and my feet planted firmly on the trading floor.

I will admit there are mornings when the opening bell goes off and I think to myself, “Today is going to be a good day. People to see and places to go… Yes, today will be my day.” But then there are those days that before I can make my first trade, I get a telephone call from one of the many fashion power brokers. The telephone call that goes a bit like this…

Caller: Hello, may I speak to Mal please.

MS: This is he (in a slightly affected yet cheerful voice)

Caller: Hi, it’s Amanda Freda from Mr. Weintraub’s office.

MS: Hi Amanda. I am so looking forward to my meeting with Marvin today at 2:00.

Caller: Silence…

MS: Hello… Amanda???

Caller: Well Mal that’s why actually why I ‘m calling. Mr. Weintraub would like to reschedule your meeting.

MS: Reschedule???

Caller: Yes. Maybe next week or the week after… I’ll call you in a day or two with the details. Sorry for the inconvenience. Have a nice day. Goodbye.

MS: Okay. Good (Bye never makes it out of my mouth before I here the deafening click of the trading ticker.)

Now for those of you that don’t know what the dreaded last minute rescheduling of appointment equates to - especially in the world of a slightly self-absorbed and perpetually childlike fashion designer - it means the market is down - a plummeting of one’s own personal stock. Thank God the grown-up me (Malcolm), the one that lives in the real world calmly realizes that Mr. Weintraub’s has merely made a trade – one appointment for another - business as usual.

Shortly thereafter, I pick up the telephone and make a trade of my own...

MS: Hey, what’s up? It’s Malcolm.

Seth: Yo Mal - - - Wassup!!! Yo, you missed it last night… Bungalow was crazy!!!

MS: Really!!! I missed it!!! Hey, what are you doing for lunch?

Seth: No plans… Chilling…

MS: Cool. Meet me at Pastis around 2:00…