[published Oct 25, 2024 - Read on Substack]
Work Unseen is a weekly newetter read by the hottest creatives, founders, techies, and non-techies who are on an unconventional professional and personal path. Become a paid subscriber to schedule a 1:1 mobile phone call or text session with me! You’ll receive instructions for how to book in welcome email 😎
If you have a question or want to work together, email [email protected]
At 24, I moved to New York City because, in my mind, it was the only place to get a real graphic design job. I sold my car for $3,000, rented a U-Haul with my best friend, and drove into the city during a February snowstorm—one of those that brings everything to a standstill. We pulled up on Bedford Avenue, near Manhattan Avenue, where I dragged my belongings into a windowless room I’d found on Craigslist. It was $500 a month, and I was sharing the apartment with two NYU students. It wasn’t glamorous, but I figured the only way to get a job in New York was to be in New York.
Todd Oldham, Tyra Banks, Cindy Crawford, Billy Beyond, Zines and Me.
I was uncomfortable, depressed, and desperate for income. I barely spoke to these new roommates, who were mostly at school. I held it together with loft parties, avant-garde noise shows under bridges, free snacks and wine at art openings, and Peter Pan egg-and-cheeses. I was broke, lonely, and starting to question whether this was all a huge mistake.
The first few months were bleak—no job, no money. I spent most of my time with my friend Matt Cassity, whom I’d met the summer before during my internship at MASS MoCA. Matt was freelancing in Williamsburg, and we had plenty of time to bum around while his roommates were at work. We spent our afternoons drawing, crafting, and watching endless reruns of Dr. Phil and Oprah in his Kent Street loft. (In 2024 Williamsburg, BK the factory building is actually still standing) It wasn’t just creative limbo—it was emotional limbo, too. Every day, I felt like I was drifting further away from the person I thought I’d be when I moved to New York.
I felt like I wasn’t a good designer because I wasn’t a Photoshop expert. I failed Adobe Photoshop tests at 24Seven, a design temp agency. I cried in the recruiter’s office—I’d hit a new emotional low. I was obsessed with typography and desperate for a mentor and to work with designers I admired.
At some point, I realized sending emails wasn’t going to cut it. I needed something that would stand out. The idea of making a zine felt like a last-ditch effort, a creative lifeline I could throw myself. It was a small project, but the act of putting myself out there, unpolished and all, gave me a strange sense of control in a time when I felt like I had none. It was a day-in-the-life snapshot of me and Matt wandering around Williamsburg, hitting up Peter Pan Donuts, and scavenging discarded furniture that Matt would later transform into art. I even threw in buttons to accompany it.
The zine wasn’t particularly impressive, and I don’t even like it that much now. But it worked.
I took a chance on myself. I created something that showed who I was—quirks and all—and mailed it to every design studio I admired. One of those studios was Todd Oldham’s. That bold move changed the course of my career. When Todd Oldham Studio called, it felt like the weight of the city lifted. For the first time, I wasn’t just surviving here—I had found my way in.
I had nothing to lose. I was frosting cupcakes at Billy’s Bakery. (although I love frosting cupcakes) This wasn’t why I came to NYC. I needed to get out of my slump. Designers all around me were thriving in their careers. I needed to step up and put the offset spatula down.
Looking back, the zine wasn’t just about landing a job—it was about betting on myself when no one else would. I wasn’t going to let my lack of Adobe Suite skills squash my dreams. It was about creating something uniquely mine, without waiting for permission or obsessing over whether it was perfect. I wasn’t following anyone’s blueprint. That risk got me in the door at Todd Oldham Studio, but more than that, it shaped how I approached my career from then on.
Todd Oldham was a huge influence on me as a teenager in the ’90s, long before I worked with him. More than just a fashion designer, he embodied a joyful, DIY approach that contrasted sharply with the luxury-obsessed world of high fashion. His segments on MTV’s House of Style, hosted by Cindy Crawford, were fundamental. In one, Todd scoured New York flea markets, turning discarded ‘junk’ into stylish furniture, proving that creativity didn’t require a hefty price tag. (You can still find the clip here.)