THIS IS THE REMIX
Friends, we are living in The Remix. So much so that I imagine P. Diddy saying “This is the Remix” as I go about my day - his voice chimes in every time a once ordinary task or experience invested with new purpose and relevance in this corona-virus world. It’s the “viral mix tape” for a new way of living.
We go to the store as usual, but never beyond the borders of our neighborhood, wearing masks to protect our faces from droplets of illness in the air. We browse the aisles not touching anything we see. We stay in our apartment for days on end, not enjoying the quiet privacy I once longed for, but shut in without the sight or touch of loved ones. We watch the news not to inform ourselves of high-minded things, but to await answers from the State and the Federal Governments. People from my Mississippi hometown to my Brooklyn neighborhood are getting terribly sick and dying. And all of this was on my mind before it got personal, before it came into our home. We have gotten through it now, and it is time to start asking what parts of our old life need to change.
We started March juggling the usual work, family, and volunteer obligations. I spent 12 hour days in the garment district, George traveled for work and volunteer commitments, and we were planning a trip to New Orleans - our first together - that would extend to a visit with my family in Mississippi. But as the month wore on things changed quickly for us. Mardis Gras became a contagion event and federal officials began discouraging air travel. We cancelled all our vacation plans; I would need to see my sisters and nieces another time.
Our work lives began to change, as cases in New York multiplied. George’s job has made it relatively easy to work remotely in recent years, and he started working from home on March 9. As a fashion designer, my work is physical and collaborative; working from home had never been considered. The decision was made some time later, and with much deliberation and turbulence. My company did their best, but no one was ready for what this meant. I went into the office just like all my coworkers, until Governor Cuomo announced that all non-essential businesses must close or work remotely until further notice. The next week we didn’t report back to our headquarters and we started working remotely. With some preparation, foresight, and a little extra work, we forged ahead.
At first, the idea of George and me working at home felt so amazingly luxurious and romantic. We each had our home offices worked out; George used the living room and I had my own studio. I loved hearing him work from the other end of the hallway - passionate and stern! Plus I absolutely loved overhearing how his coworkers ooooh and ahhh at how stylish our living room looked on video conference calls. It was so easy to focus on work and distract ourselves with projects around the apartment than to recognize the real impact this illness could have on our lives. In my head, I thought I could NOT get the “RONA”. I worked out (before gyms closed), I was vegan (for Lent), and I wasn’t drinking alcohol (another Lent promise). I couldn’t be touched!
Then, about ten days after I started working from home I recall my sinuses giving me my normal itchy throat and the occasional sneeze. George maintained a schedule of temperature checks twice daily, and that same day I registered a fever of 100 degrees. Hoping that this would just pass I took an aspirin and got some rest but it rose further to nearly 103 degrees with aches and chills that night.
As this unfolded I told George I have to move to the studio and sleep in there! I hated to think I would give anything to my husband so I had to get away from him. I didn’t want him to be sick. You know that feeling in your head you get when a loved one gets sick, you want to be the one sick because you think you can handle it and perhaps God would give you the brunt of the pain and spare your loved one instead. That sounds really dark! Sorry! but all I knew was that I didn’t want anything to happen to my George.
I have been sick before, but I was in a total fog of disorientation and fatigue. I even struggled to pull the air mattress from the closet to set up camp on the floor in my studio. George came to my aid and prepared the mattress. I told him I could manage but he persisted. I kept my distance for fear of any further contamination. The next day I got up and tried to do some work but I was still too weak and foggy. My temperature that day baselined at 100-102. Even though I now had my own space away from George, the harsh reality that I may have the virus came over me like a black cloak with a hood that eventually swallowed me whole.
I still did not want to believe I had the Coronavirus, but as time went on I ticked more boxes on the symptom list. At some point on one of my visits to the restroom I sniffed the air as I washed my hands. Wait, I thought. Where is the smell of the lavender that I knew was in the soap? I never liked the smell; it is obviously fake and lacks any of the gentle nuance of real lavender. George made soup for dinner and...you guessed it - I could not taste it, either. This was not merely my sinuses and I couldn’t keep denying it. I knew I had it, especially since we had been so isolated for so long; nothing else was contagious or long-incubating enough to take effect ten days into our quarantine.
As the seriousness of my condition overtook me I resorted to the things my mom would make me do as a child. Steam baths and try to sweat it out like some sort of flu, just like I had as a child. It brought back so many memories of that time. My mom was so worried. I remember her taking me to the doctor and bringing me home to help me get better with my grandmother’s homespun wisdom, boiling a mixture of herbs. They forced me to drink it! As a child, I imagined her going into the woods finding these secret ancient herbal treasures and making a magic cure-all to help me! I wish it were so. I would later find out that it was an old remedy of sage tea. It was awful tasting in that form and I doubt it helped, but maybe it was the love and care in it that meant the most.
At nights, I would think of my mom and grandma watching over me as I slept. My angels!
As the days progressed, we both closely monitored each other’s temperatures. Mine was always high and George soon joined me in the ordeal. We both had it and George reached out to medical professionals among our family and friend groups for guidance. A cousin and a college friend both working at prestigious New York hospitals provided their thoughts from firsthand experience treating countless patients coming in with the virus on a daily basis. If we were not already sure their reactions confirmed our self-diagnosis. All the symptoms were there and our concern was justified.
Their main advice was to take Tylenol for our fevers, sleep on our bellies, and to go to the emergency room if we had any difficulty breathing! Thank God difficulty breathing was never an issue for either of us.
Unfortunately, we didn’t have any Tylenol. Now knowing that we both needed it, I pulled myself together, put on a clean jumpsuit, and ran to Duane Reade. I knew we weren’t supposed to go out if sick but I had no other option. My apologies, New York! I put a scarf on my face and gloves on my hands as a precaution. I hadn’t been outside since getting sick. The sun seemed so bright at first. I stumbled out as if I was in a found footage film and my eyes were the camera lenses; shaky and unsettled.
I walked on my way with ambulance sirens in the distance. An all too familiar sound that I would hear throughout the day and night at home on the air mattress.
There were few people out. As I drew closer to the drug store I could see a line outside the door with patrons spaced six feet apart. Management was only allowing a few people in at a time. The ground was marked with 6ft marks to help the line of customers approximate the proper distance from one another.
As I stood there waiting, a mother and child came out. The baby couldn’t have been older than two or three years. The mother and child both wore masks. Seeing a child so small wearing a mask made me want to cry. I couldn’t help but think what’s happening to our neighborhood. What’s happening to us? This doesn’t feel right!
It was soon my turn to go in. I gathered all I thought we needed, in addition to the Tylenol, of course! I thought about getting trailmix too, but I quickly remembered I wouldn’t be able to taste it anyway! I rushed back to George. We took our Tylenol and slept much of the day. More sirens could be heard from the streets below.
I prayed every night. As I tried to sleep on the air mattress on the floor of my studio I could hear George in our bedroom coughing and my heart would race every time. Some nights I would wonder if I would have a heart attack if I kept it up! I would get up in the middle of the night and stand at the door to make sure he was breathing. I later found out he did the same for me. We were both so afraid. Never knowing what would happen next and if we were truly doing all we could to help one another.
Tylenol became our friend as we monitored our temperatures. Each day we got better and our fevers soon receded. But the fears that filled our minds in those early nights changed us. I think about all of the things we plan to do together and we just got started! It’s interesting what races through your mind when life is uncertain. “What if” questions fill your head! A lot of them, too! Mine always seemed to circle back to children. We gotta be around for the kids we hope to have one day.
In the midst of all this, I got word that my company had furloughed its sales staff and was furloughing some central staff as well. I had been working (as best I could) through my symptoms. Yes, I still attempted to work while all this went down! I love my job. I figured I could still manage this while working from home. Simple. But God had other plans. Despite my efforts, I was furloughed along with other senior designers on my team. Wow! Now doesn’t that just top off everything! Our management tried to express that it was not our faults/anything that we did to get selected for the furlough. It just needed to happen in order to do what was best for the company. At first it was hard not taking it personally. I spent maybe an hour thinking about it.
I decided that this was just an opportunity to grow. A sabbatical so to speak. I spent the next few weeks getting back to my best health - cleaning, organizing my studio, and thinking about how the new normal will look for me.
Fashion design is a difficult business already these days. Let’s face it, customers were not buying much when the “RONA” wasn't a thing. They sure will be thinking twice now that the economy is in the dumps. How will the pandemic affect my beloved already weak industry? Especially as it is so dependent on people seeking garments for the eyes of others. People most certainly aren’t getting dolled up for dates, weddings, or even the occasional brunch with the gang. How could I position myself to be ready for what our customers will need in the “remixed” version of their lives? Perhaps fast fashion is dead. If so, good. But then what can inspire new opportunities and optimism? How can big organizations use their influence to heal our world and motivate positivity? I think now more than ever is the continuation of pushing creativity to focus on providing all people with meaningful connection through storytelling. COVID-19 forced us to change the tune and this is The Remix.