What if you knew
how long you would live? What if you had unlimited money? What if you suddenly had to depend on the kindness of strangers to survive? What if you fell in love with the most unsuitable person possible? What if your thoughts were
In Cartoon Bubbles
over your head? What if bacon were good for you? What if you have a talent you’re completely ignoring? What if you had married someone else? What if new shoes actually make us happier? What if you’re never quite telling the whole truth? What if you didn’t know how old you were? What if you don’t show up and then miss the accidental meeting that could change your life? What if everyone were an artist? What if your dog talks when you’re not around? What if you didn’t realize
you’ve been beautiful all along? Cover copy by Nikki Hardin, Art by Anni Betts
“The only thing that makes life possible is a permanent, intolerable uncertainty: not knowing what comes next.” Ursula K. LeGuin
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Nikki Hardin email@example.com National Art Director
Caitilin McPhillips firstname.lastname@example.org National Editor
Margaret Pilarski email@example.com Greenville Editor
Sheril Bennett Turner firstname.lastname@example.org Director of Sales
Angela Filler email@example.com Sales Executive
Kathryn Barmore firstname.lastname@example.org Graphic Designers
Shelli H. Rutland Shearer Wludyka Photographers
John Fowler 864.380.9332 promoimaging.com Sheril Bennett Turner
Sales: 864.357.3667 FAX: 864.751.2815
skirt! is all about women... their work, play, families, creativity, style, health and wealth, bodies and souls. skirt! is an attitude...spirited, independent, outspoken,
the what if ? issue
serious, playful and irreverent, sometimes controversial, always passionate.
Essays and Profiles
Almost Milan Calendar Submissions Send information or mail to email@example.com, or mail to skirt! Greenville, 1708-C Augusta St. #335 Greenville, SC 29605.
Monica Andermann ................................................................. 10 Wild Life Waiting
Stacy Appel. .................................................................................. 14
Letters to the Editor
Profile: Kipra Anderson
All letters must include the writer’s name and city/state.
Creating Legacies ...................................................................... 20
Writers & Artists Our guidelines are available online at skirt.com. Submit artwork or essays via e-mail to firstname.lastname@example.org.
Profile: Nancy Eisen Fitzer
Double Door................................................................................ 22 Profile: Elizabeth Ramos and Erin Godbey
Leading the Parade .................................................................. 24 skirt! is published monthly and distributed free throughout the greater Greenville area. skirt! reserves the right to refuse to sell space for any advertisement the staff deems inappropriate for the publication. Unsolicited manuscripts must be accompanied by a self-addressed, stamped envelope. Letters to the editor are welcome, but may be edited due to space limitations. Press releases must be received by the 1st of the month for the following month’s issue. All content of this magazine, including without limitation the design, advertisements, art, photos and editorial content, as well as the selection, coordination and arrangement thereof, is Copyright © 2010, Morris Publishing Group, LLC. All Rights Reserved. No portion of this magazine may be copied or reprinted without the express written permission of the publisher. SKIRT!® is a registered trademark of Morris Publishing Group, LLC.
Women make more than 85% of all purchasing decisions.
If I Had Super Powers
Amy Vansant ................................................................................ 28 Diving for Pearls
Stephanie Fretwell-Hill ........................................................... 30 Women spend almost 2 of every 3 healthcare dollars.
From the Publisher/Editor and Letters.............................6 Women control 2/3 of the nation’s disposable income.
Calendar.............................................................................................. 7 Don’t Miss .........................................................................................8 Skirt of the Month........................................................................ 9 Rise & Shine................................................................................... 13
Women influence 80% of all car sales.
He’s So Original withTodd Hardaway.............................16 skirt! Loves................................................................................... 26 March Survival Guide............................................................... 27 skirt! Says....................................................................................... 29 She Said/He Said......................................................................... 31 Meet...Mary Hunt........................................................................ 32 Browse............................................................................................... 33 Planet Nikki..................................................................................... 34
you did something you’ve only dreamed about? Could you finally take the trip you’ve fantasized about for so long? You might fear it, but you’ll love yourself for doing it.
I’m so glad I can look forward to 12 more fabulous skirt! issues in 2011. I still can’t believe we are lucky enough to have such a progressive and fun-loving (and girls-only!) magazine in Memphis. So proud of us! Lori Ryan Memphis, TN
I have only one complaint about skirt!: I want more!!! More profiles, more essays,
they aren’t returned? What if I make a fool of myself when I speak in front of a group? These are typical What-Ifs that threaten to immobilize me
more ads if it means we can
by bringing up all the reasons not to take risks. That’s why I had to kick
Anni Betts is a professional illustrator living in Chicago, Illinois. She received a BFA in Graphic Design from the University of Illinois at UrbanaChampaign in 1998, and then worked as a graphic designer for eight years. Always most interested in image-making, she found ways to work her illustrations into her designs whenever possible. Finally, she branched off to follow her passion and become a freelance illustrator. Since that time she has enjoyed drawing pictures for books, advertising, magazines, board games, logos, corporate communications and more. Anni works both traditionally (ink and colored pencil on paper) and digitally, employing the unique benefits of each as needed. She is inspired by classic children’s books, vintage posters, 19th century art and her travels. She strives to achieve fluidity, harmony and a joie de vivre personality in all of her pictures. annibetts.com
have more of everything else.
Lloyd Osgood Richmond, VA
I was hoping that you could find a place to highlight the founder of our event in your publication. Her name is Nancy Fitzer and she started the Alternative Gift Fair six or seven years ago. She’s helped raise thousands of dollars for many nonprofit organizations and at the same time helped many of us to realize how meaningful it is to purchase these gifts, both for the giver and receiver. She’s done all this while working at Upstate Forever and raising three children with her husband, Matt Fitzer. Thanks for your time.
myself out of my comfort zone this winter into another country and into situations that felt unfamiliar and a little scary. At first I missed knowing what each day was going to be like and who I would be when I woke up in the morning, while at the same time I longed to discover something new and unknown and exotic about myself. I had to wrestle with doubts about what I was doing, the certainty that I’d never learn where to catch the right bus, the worry that I was imposing on my friends. But it was like wrestling with an angel because being able to talk myself through each fear that came up was the best thing I brought back. Yes, I love my extravagant blue velvet coat from Paris, but even more I love the fact that I know I’m stronger than my What-Ifs would suggest; that I’m capable of much more than I expect of myself; that most of those crippling WhatIf warnings in the back of my brain can be countered with a simple “So What?” So what if I miss the bus—another one will come along. So what if I get lost—I might find myself. So what if I fail—there’s always another chance to take. So why not?
Peggy Roberts Greenville, SC
[ed. Note: Nancy is featured in this issue as one of our marvelous Change Makers.] Yesterday’s lunch was perfect! I got to read the February issue of skirt! Greenville. It’s sassy and the Hawk N’ Tom profile is outrageous! Eileen Bunch Taylors, SC
From the Editor My What Ifs tend to be a little self-absorbed. What if I could fit into all those skinny clothes still hanging in my closet from the ’80s, would I really want to…? What if I’d been the inventor of Facebook? (Well, it would be a little prettier.) What if I did finally win the lottery, but I was 92? What if I had a whole week all to myself? And from my son: What if you could have any super power that you wanted? (Invisibility, maybe?) Thankfully, there are people out there who are a little more community-minded, those who’ve turned a What-If idea into a What-Is reality.This month we celebrate three such typhoon-transformingchange-making ladies who’ve taken an idea and ridden full throttle with it. We also introduce this year’s Safe Harbor Board President and our Original pick this March. Finally, we’ll Meet a dedicated lady whose
❉ skirt .
❉ skirt .
What if I start a blog and no one comes? What if I show my feelings and
thewhat if ? issue whenever I do anything new—my reptile brain trying to keep me “safe”
skir t. c
From the Publisher
more skirt!. I’ll even take
enviable job is meeting and greeting the community. When you think about it, March is a great What-If month. What if the weather finally turned warm…and stayed that way…?
Sheril why not?
Clemson’s Brooks Center for the Performing Arts is hosting The Luck O’ the Brooks Gala to support arts programming at the university. This Irish-themed party will include a silent auction, live music and food. clemson.edu/brooks
The Women’s Leadership Initiative of the United Way of Anderson County presents 2011 Power of the Purse featuring a purse auction benefiting teen pregnancy prevention in Anderson County. unitedwayofanderson.org
Upstate Forever’s 5th Annual Art & Conservation Celebration features a silent auction of nature-based art with part of the proceeds benefitting their work promoting sensible growth and protecting our beautiful places. upstateforever.org
Unite 1. The League of Women Voters of Greenville County meets at 6pm on the first Tuesday of every month at University Center, Ste 202. greenvilleco. sc.lwvnet.org
Green-Friendly 13. The 16th Return to the Green Irish Cultural Festival is a free family celebration featuring Celtic music, food, drink and fun including lots of children’s activities.
Are you Reedy? 4-5. Don’t miss the Carolina First Reedy River Run featuring a Kid’s Fun Run, a Reedy Great Youth Mile, and 5k and 10k walk/races. reedyriverrun.com
All That Jazz 4. Join the Peace Center for their 20th Anniversary Gala with a performance by Ben Vereen and Friends followed by dinner and dancing to the Harry James Orchestra. peacecenter.org
Every Thursday! Blarney Bash 17. The PNG Downtown Alive free concert series kicks off tonight and runs through August, featuring pop, blues, acoustic and reggae performances.
17. This lively St. Patrick’s Day celebration in downtown Greenville features live bands, bagpipe music, and Irish dancers amid all the activities.
Laugh 4-19. Don’t miss William Shakespeare’s hilarious play within a play, Midsummer Night’s Dream, staged as only Jayce Tromsness can. ware housetheatre.com
Friday Fun! 18. A local fave, BB&T Main Street Friday’s returns to downtown Greenville starting tonight! Fun for the whole family; enjoy the best in local, regional and national talent.
12. The Seneca Junior Woman’s Club is sponsoring Oconee County’s First Annual Polar Bear Plunge at Keowee Marina to support Safe Harbor services in Oconee County. safeharborsc.org
12. The SCCT’s 16th Annual Character Breakfast Celebration & Raffle benefits children in our community who are coping with challenging circumstances. sc childrenstheatre.org
Dirty 24-4/16. Based on the popular 1998 film by the same title, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels: A Musical Comedy centers on two fraudsters living on the French Riviera. centrestage.org
26. Join the Greenville Free Medical Clinic Walk with the Docs, a fundraiser walk through Greenville’s West End. Call 864.232.1470.
Women’s History Month • Expanding Girls’ Horizons in Science and Engineering Month • Caffeine Awareness Month • National On-Hold Month
Clean Up Your IRS Act Month • Colorectal Cancer Awareness Month • Optimism Month • Eye Donor Month • Frozen Food Month • Umbrella Month skirt.com
“Signed copies of his book will be available at Coplon’s for $50 with proceeds benefiting colorectal cancer...
March 18 Perfect Luncheon On March 18 at 11:30 am, Greenville’s Coplon’s will host a luncheon with NYC fashion designer Carmen Marc Valvo as he presents his Spring 2011 collection and his new book, Dressed to Perfection. A colon cancer survivor himself, Carmen joined the National Colorectal Cancer Research Alliance (NCCRA) as an ambassador to raise awareness of this curable cancer. Signed copies of his book will be available at Coplon’s for $50 with proceeds benefiting colorectal cancer education, screening and research. Tickets to this fabulous event are only $75 and can be purchased at dressedtoperfection.eventbrite.com.
Traci Daberko is an illustrator and graphic designer in Seattle, WA. See her work at daberkodesign.com.
Annie Tulip Skirt by Beija-Flor Plaza Suite 550 S. Main St., Greenville 864.298.0081
“No, Luca,” I said, “I won’t marry you.”
he spring of my 25th year, I was ready. Ready for excitement, for adventure. Ready to get out of the rut I’d already carved for myself. So when, through an unexpected twist of events, I was invited to work on a cruise ship headed for the Caribbean, I jumped at the chance. I took a leave from my stable job, said adios to my sensible life and boarded the massive ship, ready for all that awaited beyond the shoreline of my average existence. Once aboard, I was quickly introduced to all I needed to know about life on an ocean liner, including the location of a secret staircase that led to the crew deck a few levels below my cabin. Since time in port was extremely limited to us, it was here, I was advised, where all the real action on the high seas took place, between work shifts and after the well-fed, sun-soaked passengers were tucked safely into their beds. I looked around. Action? Here? I had been dreaming of palm trees and beaches, perhaps a hike into a jungle, an afternoon parasailing. I wanted to touch down on foreign soil and experience something I could really sink my teeth into. Something life-altering. This area was nothing more than a small, unimpressive affair with a few folding chairs scattered about, a ping-pong table, and a place for shuffleboard located in the far part of the ship where the sun never seemed to shine. I stood against the wooden railing, disappointed, the wind pulling my hair across my face. A few Italian crewmen leaned around looking out into the ocean, smoking cigarettes. No. No life-changing possibilities could possibly present themselves here. Or so I thought. Because here, it was, I met Luca. Tall and gangly with his hair askew, Luca sported a wiry moustache that reminded me of rodent’s whiskers. I must admit that when I first spotted him, I didn’t give him any thought; he was just another member of the crew. Still dressed in the stained white coat and black and white checked pants that were his uniform as an associate chef on board, he looked so messy to me and, well, foreign. Yet when Luca sat down next to where I stood, I quickly found us falling into the easy conversation of two old friends even despite his spotty command of English and my complete ignorance of Italian. It seemed the two of us spoke the language of food and family—the two things in life we cherished above all else. I learned about his three sisters, the three restaurants his family owned in and around Milan, and the fourth he hoped to open with their help after his return. He heard stories of my parents, brother, and cousins and the Sunday dinners I loved to cook for them. He joked that with my vast repertoire of recipes and culinary skill, I would do well to go into the restaurant business myself.
Luca and I met on that deck regularly, sneaking a few moments away from the ship’s routine to unwind and re-charge before returning back to our respective posts. This arrangement became the highlight of my days, so much so that I barely missed the lack of adventure I had initially sought. On that shadowed deck Luca made the sun shine with his sweet reminiscences of home juxtaposed against his twisted tales of the goings-on in the ship’s underbelly, where the kitchen’s relentless heat fueled daily altercations between crew. In a few moments our conversations could run the gamut of emotions, ending always with the wistful promise, “See you later.” One afternoon, close to the end of my time on the ship, I commented to Luca about the irony of the situation we shared: Both of us had been drawn to an experience at sea with the hope of trading the dullness of everyday life for a new excitement, only to fall into the same mundane routines we wished to escape. I recall how a smile laced its way across his lips as he shook his head at my epiphany. Luca waved his hand out at the ocean.“The happiness,” he said, “it can’t be found out there.” He touched his hand to his heart, “It has to be found in here.” Then Luca got down on one knee and proposed marriage. I sucked in air, hard and fast. Marriage? To this man I barely knew, had never even kissed? Suddenly Luca was pleading his case, promising happiness ever after in Milan with him at the helm of his family’s fourth restaurant and me steady by his side. Oh, so this is what our friendship had all been about, I thought. Luca just needed someone to bring home to help with his family’s business. An assistant. I felt duped. “No, Luca,” I said, “I won’t marry you.” Then I stalked off the crew deck and did not return for the duration of my time aboard. I avoided my former friend by navigating away from the areas I knew Luca could be found at work, yet the night before my scheduled departure he came to my cabin with one final request. I still recall how he looked down at the ground and shuffled his feet before he asked that I contact him should I change my mind about his proposal before he returned home to Italy. I looked at him standing there, appearing so sincere, and I almost scolded myself for questioning his motives. We spoke again for a few moments in that same comfortable way and at the end of the conversation, I promised to reconsider his proposal with no real intention of ever doing so. Then Luca and I said goodbye for one final time. Meanwhile, back at home, I eventually unpacked the memory of Luca and organized it along with my other souvenirs. I returned to my average life and soon met Bill, a sensible man with a stable job. His proposal of marriage followed a two-year courtship, and I said yes without a moment’s hesitation. We share a good life and have for more than 20 years. Yet, from time to time I still remember Luca. A proposal like his just cannot be forgotten. And sometimes when I’m at the water’s edge, I look out at the ocean, the wind pulling my hair across my face, and I wonder.
Monica Andermann lives on Long Island with her husband Bill and their cat Charley. Her writing has been published both online and in print. 10
tell your family or friends what you really think instead of half-and-half lies/truth? What would happen if you did?
move, master a foreign language, marry a foreigner? Whatâ€™s really stopping you? The world or your will?
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I dream about New England the way you’d dream about an old lover, remembering the scent of him, the intoxicating beauty.
inter in Providence had been more severe than usual, one ice storm after another hobbling trees and transforming city streets into slippery alleyways lined with snow. Cars with frosted windshields inched their way along Thayer or Hope Streets like a line of ants, but mostly we walked, stepping in and out of drifts, marveling at the array of icicles hanging from roof gutters and doorway frames. I startled when sudden wind gusts sent one of the long ice chains crashing and tinkling to the ground, giving a wide berth to the power lines, which occasionally collapsed under the weight of fallen branches. The city had turned to crystal. It’s tempting to romanticize a city from long ago, but I loved Rhode Island even in winter—the cozy pleasure of hunkering down in my queen-sized bed under a hand-made quilt with a mug of cinnamon tea and a book beside me, or scrunching through the snow to meet a date for Irish coffee in one of the newly chic downtown bars. Providence was engaging and easily tamed, unlike the vast professional sprawl of D.C., where I had grown up. Despite rumors of crime and graft, my newly acquired city always felt safe to me, a friendly mosaic of cobblestones and bakeries and family-owned fish stores. The man at the corner takeout shop remembered that I took my coffee “regular” (cream and sugar), and the shoe repair clerk, mistaking me for a starving college student, invited me home for an authentic eight-course Portuguese dinner with her mother and cousins. I don’t remember ever feeling lonely there. Even diner waitresses or bus drivers adopted me as temporary family. Autumns, when the maples on the university campus turned so deeply red almost overnight they looked dipped in flame, I sat on the grass of the quad and wrote in my journal, or scrunched through fallen leaves to the small Italian restaurant where I worked. Alfredo’s served the best lasagna and cannelloni in town. For the first time I found myself earning real money waiting tables, thanks to extravagant tips from generous grad students or businessmen trying to impress their bosses and girlfriends. With unaccustomed largesse in my pockets, I canvassed yard sales and thrift stores on weekends, toting home a pair of antique end tables or a carton of intriguing old books. I loved the drowsy hot New England summers when my housemate Holly and I escaped to Newport Bay to eat fried clams on the dock and watch sailboats cross-stitch the whitecaps in the distance. I had come to Rhode Island intending to go to Roger Williams College and somehow it never happened: it was too much fun just living my life, playing
softball, learning to bartend and cook, dancing, swimming, and dashing out to concerts with Holly, who was enrolled at the university and could get us discounted tickets. I had money for just about everything I needed, a comfortable two-bedroom apartment we’d loved decorating, a job I enjoyed and was good at. Nothing was wrong. I could envision settling down in Providence, marrying this boy or that a few years down the line, living merrily in an old white clapboard house with a swing set, a giant backyard, maple trees erupting into flame each October. And I realized I couldn’t stay any longer. Throughout my life, I have heard a little bell chime inside my head at the oddest times, always when the moment has arrived to leave someone or something behind. The bell signals an ending which I couldn’t yet have noticed. Though not unpleasant, the sound quietly, insistently stays with me and can’t be ignored, the way a hotel room phone keeps blinking when you have a message. I recognized the familiar bell that winter as the sober tug of inner guidance; even as I stalled, there was some comfort in the mystery of guidance being present at all. When I told Holly, she was shocked, unable to understand the timing or my reasons for leaving. How was I to explain what I didn’t understand, either? The most I could point to was a vague sense that another life awaited. Leaving Providence came close to breaking my heart. I knew my neighbors and their children; I’d walked every street and been inside most of the shops. The nearby ocean had been my refuge and my friend. I had no idea where I would go, or what I would do. Would I work in Boston? Go to school in Vermont? Visit my brother in California? No definite clues arrived as I had assumed they would, and the moving van was scheduled to arrive in just a few days. We’d given notice on the apartment, since Holly, forlorn, refused to stay on alone and had decided to move in with her boyfriend. So I had the movers unload my furniture and clothes into a storage complex, and returned to my parents’ house to guess at the next chapter. Not long after, my real life commenced, a life that required so much more of me, and would never again feel as orderly or safe or normal. I stumbled into my future, just by doing what I always do—leave when the bell goes off, follow the breadcrumb trail until something new appears in the clearing. Holly ended up in the white clapboard house with the huge backyard, in Narragansett, while I got to find out more about death and dying, music and loss. By choice and through apparent circumstance, I learned about healing, both my own and that of other people, and art, and intuition. In the years since Rhode Island, I’ve rarely been able to claim that I’m comfortable for any extended period, financially or otherwise, but I’ve never been in danger of falling asleep in the poppies, either. I dream about New England the way you’d dream about an old lover, remembering the scent of him, the intoxicating beauty. Perhaps I’ll even go there again one day. Or to Memphis, or Morocco, or Boulder, or the next town over from where I live now. Wherever my wild life waits.
Stacy Appel is an award-winning writer in California whose work has been featured in the Chicago Tribune and other publications. She has also written for National Public Radio. She is a contributor to the book You Know You’re a Writer When...Contact Stacy at WordWork101@aol.com. 14 Marchw2011greenville skirt.com
let go of a lover, a career or a location that no longer fits? Whatâ€™s holding you back?
He’s So Original
Todd Hardaway Runs Around for the Ladies. Todd, a commercial real estate broker, family man, and lover of snow skiing, music, golf, and running, is also the 2011 Board President of Safe Harbor, helping the organization shelter victims of domestic violence and aid them in rebuilding their lives. “I first became active through Leadership Greenville and later was asked to join the board. I love working with Safe Harbor because of the dedication of the staff and board. It is a place where you can truly see the impact of donated time, resources, and funds.” Now in its 10th year, Safe Harbor is preparing for their April 5K and Fun Run/Walk through beautiful downtown Greenville, where you might just catch a glimpse of Todd in the line-up—sans the skirt. Find out more at safeharborsc.org. What do you love about skirt!? “It empowers women.” How do you feel wearing a skirt? “I feel great. Two words: No chafing!” Photo by John Fowler
W h y Pa y R e ta i l ? Store Hours Sun. & Mon.
By appointment only
Tues. - Fri. 10:30am-5:30pm Sat. 10am-2pm
We have Moved!
www.lollipoptotz.com w 112 Halter Dr. Ste E, Hwy. 153, Powdersville
Ask the Expert: info@MWFtoday.com
Q: I love my new hardwood floor! Mom says clean with vinegar & my friend says I should get a Sha*k Steamer floor cleaner???
The Rev Says! STOP! PUT DOWN THE CONDIMENTS & STEP AWAY FROM THE FLOOR CARE PRODUCTS! BE VERY CAREFUL!!!! Contact the manufacturer of the wood floor if at all possible; they will have very specific recommendations and I would bet you dollars or doughnuts (If veggies tasted as good as Krispy crèmes I would be a lot healthier!). They will tell you water & wood don’t MIX! NO WATER, NO VINEGAR, NO MURPHY’S OIL SOAP!!! NO Sha*k Steamers! Oils & Wax are what most wood craves & usually is better for it. * SMART SHOPPER TRICK! A light mist of a good wood floor cleaner sprayed in the air & let it settle, and then a micro fiber mop or a Swiffer & you should be done. Keep it simple, keep it dry & make it quick! If it’s a new floor the finish doesn’t need wax, if it’s an old floor it may... lots to know before you start putting wax on a wood floor! You might try this link, may be helpful but your manufacturer is the best resource. http://interiordec.about.com/od/cleaning/ht/ht_cleanhardwd.htm
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The “REV” got his nickname by dropping out of seminary & becoming a serious student of textile engineering & design. He spent 20 years in the carpet manufacturing business in Dalton, Georgia. The REV has served as a C.E.U. course instructor for Interior designers & architects for over 20 years. His students gave him the nickname the ”REV”, because of his very quirky & very passionate, almost evangelical teaching style. The REV loves teaching & answering questions on the subject of flooring.
GOT A QUESTION about LOVE, LIFE OR FLOORING FOR THE REV? info@MWFtoday.com & get a personal answer from the Rev & you might even make next months SKIRT column.
Marietta’s Quilt & Sew 1004-C West Georgia Rd. d. Simpsonville, SC 29680
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Michael’s Wholesale Flooring I-85 & Woodruff Rd. Exit 51 41 Old Country Road Greenville, SC 29607
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Closed on Thursdays & Sundays
We’re your local “nesting” experts – with a flair for economy and style! 2854 Wade Hampton Blvd., Vance Square, Taylors (across from Country Boys) • www.featheryournestconsignments.com
FFurniture, Furnit ture Lamps, Lam mps Rugs & Art, Art Mirrors, Mirrors Home Décor
IInterested d in i Consigning? C i i ? We accept consignments daily. No Appointment Necessary!
110 Mauldin Road, Greenville, 29605 • 864-299-0045 • www.southernhousepitality.net
Interested in advertising your Consignment/Resale Business on this page? Call Angela Filler at 864.357.3669 or email email@example.com S102781
gnment Chic Smart fashionistas know how to save money and still look fabulous! GO GREEN! Reuse, Recycle, Refurnish.
Upscale Consignment Furniture www.homeatlastinc.com Furniture Online & Updated Daily
New Hours on Monday
Mon., Fri. & Sat. 10-4 • Tues. 11-6 Wed. & Thurs. 10-5:30 1001 S. Batesville Rd. • Near 85 & Pelham • 848-3737
Home H ome C Couture outure Market M arket F Finds inds & C Consign onsign Unique pieces made by local artists! b
Hours: Tues-Sat 10-6
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re to S t n e m n ig s n o eC Not Your Averag CONSIGNMENT STORE
• 20,000 Square Foot Showroom
• Men’s, Women’s & Children’s Clothing • Furniture/Home Decor and much more!
We purchase brand name children’s clothing, baby equipment and furniture on Mondays & Fridays only.
your purchase of $25.00 or more One coupon per person per visit. Not valid wih any other coupons.
Offer expires 3/3 1/1 1
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206E New Neely Ferry Rd., Mauldin, SC
(please see our website for other current specials)
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(864) 288-2333 113-A East Butler Rd, Mauldin, SC 29662
Kipra Anderson | Creating Legacies Named by her mom who wanted an unusual call-out when she did something bad, Kipra later discovered her name was a province in Czechoslovakia— not her nationality. Today, as Executive Director and Founder of Let There Be Mom, people do call out to Kipra, but for good reason. This non-profit helps moms and dads with life-threatening illnesses preserve their legacies. Created in 2007 for parents of children 18 and under, the mom or dad must be able to communicate what they want their children to know about them, so it is essential that families reach out early in their fight. Through her tireless and rewarding work, Kipra has learned an important lesson: “Only put off doing that which you don’t care if you ever do. Tomorrow may not be yours.” Find out more about this organization and their upcoming fundraiser, the Seek and Snap scavenger hunt, at lettherebemom.org. Photo by John Fowler
Nancy Eisen Fitzer | Double Doer “Service is the rent we pay for living,” said Marian Wright Edelman, and Nancy could not agree more. As the Education Director for Upstate Forever, a non-profit that promotes sensible growth and protects special places in the Upstate region of SC, she is used to playing it forward. Nancy is also the mastermind behind Greenville’s Alternative Gift Fair, where each November people shop for holiday gifts, helping nonprofits locally and globally while giving a gift with meaning. “I have always been concerned about commercialism and materialism, and having worked in the nonprofit sector, I know how extensive the needs are in our communities. The smaller organizations, many of which are run entirely by volunteers, especially benefit from the exposure and funds this event brings them.” For more information on either of these worthy causes, go to upstateforever.org or greenvilleuu.org/altgift. Photo by John Fowler
The Biltmore Lift is a minimally invasive facelift and necklift procedure performed under local anesthesia in our office. This unique experience is comfortable and private, and our patients avoid the major surgery, prolonged recovery, and prohibitive costs of traditional procedures. Most importantly, our final results are natural and never overdone.
Dr. Harley’s “Before and After” photographs speak for themselves. We invite you to visit our web site or office to view these photographs and witness firsthand what this and other procedures can do for you.
For a personal interview call 864-232-2332
When you have people stop you in a store and say you are beautiful, it makes you think, I should have done this a long time ago. - Pat D., Weaverville, NC Biltmore Lift Patient
www.BiltmoreLift.com 902 North Church St. Greenville, SC 29601 864-232-2332
1249 Hendersonville Rd. Asheville, NC 28803 828-274-1009
Elizabeth & Erin | Leading the Parade Friends and craft buds since college, Elizabeth Ramos and Erin Godbey teamed up last year to bring Greenville their very own craft fair, the overwhelmingly successful Indie Craft Parade. “We really had no clue what we were getting ourselves into, or how much work it would take to make it a reality,” says Erin. Elizabeth laughs. “In one weekend, a crew of friends armed with sewing machines helped sew over 1,400 feet of felt garland to decorate the event space.” Now in planning mode for the 2011 Indie Craft Parade, scheduled for September 9-11, these artsy girls have big goals for the future, including a convention aspect that will offer small business advice to artists. “We really want to make Indie Craft Parade an annual destination for quality handmade goods,” Elizabeth explains, “something special that people will travel to Greenville to attend.” Check it out at indiecraftparade.com. Photo by John Fowler at the Historic Huguenot Mill
Growing Families ...
One Baby at a Time. Providing treatment for infertility including inseminations, InVitro Fertilization, and Tubal Reversals.
Piedmont Reproductive Endocrinology Group www.pregonline.com
John E. Nichols, MD â€˘ John F. Payne, MD 17 Caledon Ct. Ste. C Greenville, SC 29615 1330 Boiling Springs Rd. Ste. 2200 Spartanburg, SC 29303 864-232-7734
Tea Fragrance Blends â€˘ Jo Malone jomalone.com
Moma Design Store momastore.org
Porta Portese Ram Cat Alley, Seneca portaporteseram catalley.com
Caitilin skirt! Art Director
skinkare 2 Maple Tree Ct, Greenville skinkare.com
March survival guide Supermarket Tulips The Lincoln Lawyer Make Believe tan E.R.A. bumper sticker Umbrella Gauguin show in D.C. Shamrock green tights Mildred Pierce on HBO A Discovery of Witches, Deborah Harkness New Wanda Jackson CD
IF I HAD
It was starting to look like I might be a normal person, like—and this is very difficult for me to say—like everyone else. Amy Vansant
spent a large part of my young life waiting for my super powers to manifest. I knew I was supposed to have them, and I was more than annoyed it was taking so long for them to appear. I couldn’t fly. I wasn’t unusually strong. A few times a year I would stare at a pencil and will it to roll toward me, just to check if my power might be telekinesis. It wasn’t. Somewhere in my mid-20s, I realized the super powers weren’t coming. At that point, I was even too old to be a child prodigy. Once you’re in your mid-20s, anything cool you might accomplish is just something cool you accomplished, not prodigy material. Sure, if I was lucky, maybe someday I’d be in some sort of horrific accident and the government would rebuild me with bionic parts, but it wasn’t looking good. I resembled my parents much too much to actually be an adopted alien with latent super abilities. I hadn’t been all that talented at science, so my exposure to radioactive spiders was almost nil. It was starting to look like I might be a normal person, like—and this is very difficult for me to say—like everyone else. Then, one day, I realized the hard truth. I couldn’t be trusted with super powers. I would have abused the hell out of them. Superheroes have to keep their powers a secret. I’m pretty sure Batman never had one too many tequila sunrises and started whipping bat-shaped tools out of his utility belt at the bar. For one, he’s waaaay too moody to have a drink as fun as a tequila sunrise. Secondly, Batman understands the superhero secrecy rule. Conversely, pretty much everyone I have ever been drunk with knows, in agonizing detail, my entire life story. At least they know the highlights, and I’m thinking the ability to fly or shoot lasers out of my eyes would qualify as highlights. That girl who was utterly rude to me back in 2002? I totally would have popped out my Wolverine claws and scared the bejeezus out of her. There’s no doubt about it. She shouldn’t make me mad. She wouldn’t like me when I’m mad. Actually, there are a lot of differences between Batman and myself. For instance, I would never make Robin run around in green Depends diapers. And if I were a millionaire playboy, I’d be pretty happy just being a millionaire playboy and would skip all the skulking about in caves with flying rodents. But I digress.
I hate to admit it, but the sad truth is that if I had super powers, I would use them for petty things. If I could walk through walls, then I would walk through bank vaults and use them as my own personal ATMs. I would have read the minds of the boys with whom I flirted, in order to know the best way to impress them. When I read their thoughts and realized they were more interested in the butterfaced barmaid with the huge rack, I would have flown them to the top of a church steeple and left them there, clinging for dear life, until someone heard them screaming and got them down with a bucket truck. If I were stretchy, like Mr. Fantastic, I would have used those powers to enhance my sexual prowess. Think that gymnast girlfriend from high school was flexible? Bucko, you haven’t seen anything yet. I would have shown up at meetings in the Batmobile to impress clients. I would have used my ability to fly to avoid airfare to St. Barts much more than I used it to save someone having her purse snatched in Brooklyn. Particularly during winter high season. I would have used my super strength to win an Olympic medal, and then worn it like an accessory with my best little black dress. I would have used my super speed to grab all the best pairs of shoes at the Saks sale before anyone else had a chance to get them. If you were a size eight and a half, you would be totally out of luck when I was in town. I would have used invisibility to hear what people said about me after I “left” the room, and then punished them accordingly. If I felt the need to return an improperly cooked meal in a restaurant, I would use my invisibility powers to spy on the cook and make sure he didn’t spit on my food before returning it to me. This would actually be the first time I ever returned something, just for that reason. If I could breathe underwater like Aquaman, I would use that ability to freak people out at pool parties, or to fake emergencies in order to get attention from lifeguards. If something didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to, I would reverse the spinning of the planet by flying around it very fast, in order to turn back time, so I could try again. I might do that a dozen times until I got it right. I might do it every 10 years or so, just so my dog never grew old and died. Don’t get me wrong. I would have tried not to do these things. But it wouldn’t have worked. I would have been powerless against my powers. And that’s why the universe didn’t grant me super powers. That’s the only reason.
Amy Vansant is a writer, blogger (kidfreeliving.com), professional nerd, and shameless Labradoodle mommy. She is probably at a restaurant drinking wine as you are reading this right now. 28
Bar talk everywhere i s p r et t y m u c h t h e s a m e .
for a rainy day and a Burberry trench coat.
Having a crush is a
harmless adrenaline rush.
G i v e yo u r b r a i n a s p a d ay w i t h t r a s h T V.
Don’t let someone’s
bright idea dim your own.
Passion fruit is juiciest when it’s wrinkled—like women. Do you believe in Forever love or For-A-While love?
It’s hard to go back to “no” once you’ve reached “maybe.” You never know who might be your guardian angel.
Seal everything with a kiss.
I was so focused on this incredible environment, I forgot to worry.
ife is a lottery of choices and chances. Opportunities arise unexpectedly, and you have to think fast: they may never come again. I was once asked to live on a Tahitian island for a year, but I said no. Luck led me to Tahiti to begin with. My mother had lived in Hawaii in her youth and had stayed in touch with an old friend there. He was an incredibly generous person who invited me to join his son on his annual trip to French Polynesia. I had never met either of them, or been to any tropical islands in my life. There had also been an elephant in the room between my mother and me for the past few months: I had fallen into a deep depression during my second year of college. At the beginning of the summer I had cried, in a complete panic over the prospect of returning to school. My mother was supportive, but I knew she was terrified of my dropping out. There was no question about Tahiti: In a whirlwind phone call, Mom and I were jumping up and down, practically tripping over ourselves to book a flight. It never occurred to me how unlikely the whole opportunity was; I was simply excited, and couldn’t wait to get there. I bought a guidebook and two bikinis, and was off. The next two months were a dream. I made fast friends with my travel companions. We went to nightclubs in Papeete, shopped amongs coffee-skinned ladies in bright tropical print frocks, and practiced our French. We island-hopped, hitchhiked, spear-fished, and cracked open coconuts with pointed rocks whenever we wanted a snack. One of the families we stayed with lived in the lagoon off the island of Huahine. Yes, I do mean in the lagoon. They had built their house on stilts in the water, so you could only get there by boat. We would dive off the front porch to snorkel or catch some dinner. Like most of the families in the islands, our friends cultivated pearls for a living. They were also potters, sold the local noni plant to American health food stores, and dabbled in bee keeping. We would help them with the pearls, which were kept in nurseries of oysters on great garlands out in the lagoon. Each mollusk had been implanted with a nucleus around which a pearl would grow. Every few days, the garlands had to be pulled up from the water and the oysters cleaned, restrung, and put back into the lagoon. It was hard work, but the resulting giant Ziploc bags full of plump black pearls were mesmerising. I forgot about my depression. My anxieties about myself and my place in the world had surrounded me like an opaque bubble, but in French Polynesia the
bubble dissolved as suddenly and without warning as it had arrived the year before. There was no place for it there in the sun. I was so focused on this incredible environment, I forgot to worry. Each day I would swim under the house to find giant cowries with leopard-print shells. Some local friends took us to swim in a fish trap that was full of sharks. I tried desperately to hold my breath long enough to touch one like our guides could, but my lungs weren’t strong enough and I had to kick back to the surface every time. One evening, our hosts took us to a neighbor’s house for a barbecue. They had been roasting a pig on a spit for hours. We spent the evening sitting around a fire, playing guitars and ukuleles, singing, playing on the beach, and stuffing ourselves silly. The neighbor lived in an amazing house without walls; the common spaces were covered with a palm-thatched roof, and as you ascended an open staircase that wound from the valley floor up the mountainside, there were a few separate huts that served as bedrooms. I stood in the living room with the girls from the party, learning traditional Tahitian dance steps while floral scented breezes wrapped around our tanned skin. I didn’t want that day to end. It was the essence of what life should be like: full of companionship, fun, food, beauty, and contentment. So when the neighbor told me she was going abroad for a year and needed a house-sitter, why did I refuse? I agonized over my answer, desperately wanting to stay on the island, but feeling obligated to return to my “normal” life back home. That was 14 years ago. If I was presented with the chance today, there would be no question; I would stay. But I was too young then to have the confidence in myself that I have now. I was afraid of the unknown, and unsure of my ability to cope with my choices well. There was also college. Before the trip, I had been in a panic over returning. There on Huahine, surrounded by children and dogs playing and the voices of my hosts singing Tiare, I felt like myself again. And I wanted to finish what I had started. Every person is presented with opportunities to change the course she’s on. The road forks, and she must go one way or the other. That day I took the familiar path, but I also chose to let go of my depression, to carry forward with optimism. The bubble had lifted, and I decided not to allow it back into my life. I don’t regret any of my choices, because they make me who I am today. Even so, I can’t help thinking about Huahine occasionally. I imagine how my year would have unfolded—how my life’s path would have altered—if I had stayed.
Stephanie Fretwell-Hill is a freelance writer and publisher who loves to travel. She has been living in London for the past six years, but is currently taking time off from her city career to drive around America... slowly. 30
“A man can sleep around, no questions asked, but if a woman makes nineteen or twenty mistakes she’s a tramp.” Joan Rivers
“Sex without love is a meaningless experience, but as far as meaningless experiences go its pretty damn good.” Woody Allen
“The single most impressive fact about the attempt by American women to obtain the right to vote is how long it took.” Alice Rossi
“Don’t you realize that as long as you have to sit down to pee, you’ll never be a dominant force in the world?” Don Delillo
she she said said hesaid hesaid
Meet Favorite Restaurant: Commerce Club, of course!
Mary Hunt, the membership director for the Commerce Club since fall 2010. When a good friend told her about the position last year, Mary jumped at the chance to meet new people, members and potential members alike. “I love my job!” says Mary.
Dream Vacation: Venice
Favorite Flower: Orchids
My Handbag: Michael Kors
My Guilty Pleasure: Nutty Coconut Ice Cream from Baskin Robbins
My Workout: Taking the Steps Instead of the Elevator My Desk: Constantly Cluttered One Item Always In My Purse: Credit Card…Don’t Leave Home Without It Favorite Feminist: My Grandmother I’d Like To Learn To: Draw or Play the Piano Where You’ll Find Me On Friday Nights: On
Photo by John Fowler
My Sofa! Favorite Shoes: Comfortable Ones My Muse: My Mom My Secret Ambition: Country Singer Favorite TV Show: Glee or Grey’s Anatomy
Inspire Even though The Design Files is out of Australia, there is plenty of inspiration to be found and lots of ideas for your own lifestyle. thedesignfiles.net
Admire Where They Create is a website started by Paul Barbera who began seeking out artists and creatives in the places where he was on assignment and then documenting their work spaces. wheretheycreate.com
Books we are enjoying
Download Named Apple’s iPad app of the year and one of Time’s Top 50 Innovations, Flipboard aggregates your favorite online media sources (including video and photos) and then presents
The Philosophy of Andy Warhol Andy Warhol Nikki Hardin Publisher
the content in a beautiful, easy-to-read, magazine-like format.
Order Send Kikki & Polly a snapshot you’d like turned into a painting and be delighted with the results. You can choose from line, sketch, classic or painterly portraits. kikkiandpolly.com
The Rhinestone Sisterhood David Valdes Greenwood Sheril Bennett Turner Editor
Need a car service that provides an infant seat? Prices on hotels where you’ll be vacationing and help with reservations? Fact checking? Fancy Hands wants to be
your online personal assistant so you can get more done with less effort. Check out what they can do and their (very affordable) pricing. fancyhands.com
Rolling in the Deep
Que Sera Sera
Corinne Bailey Rae Red Light Ladies
“Kids are sunk or lifted
“What I need in the
“I love tattoos—I love the
by cookies and silly putty.
winter that is ahead is not
idea that it’s permanent,
Stuff you can hold in your
merriness, exactly, nor even
and I love the idea that it
hand. Tangible things that
light, for I am content to
really marks where you are
go bump and smash. Kids
live a while in the dark.
in your life at that time. I
don’t agonize over making
What I need is warmth.
think people are scared of
the right choices. They just
The ways we bank against
that permanence but I feel
feel good if they do some-
one another. The way we
like, it’s ok, you can always
thing cool for a couple of
huddle in under this cold
move on, you can cover it,
hours. I resolve to think
hand of darkness.”
you can take it off if you
less and do more.
don’t like it. I remember
Like a kid.”
everything about each one.”
I Put a Spell on You
planetnikki [ a visual journal ]
I found out in London that I’ve been starving for something that isn’t on a menu.
I’ve been craving temporary anonymity, still present in the stones, a roomful of
Middle Eastern sidewalk groceries with piles of Turkish delight and cups of pomegranate seeds, the Taser shock of new ideas, taking the Eurostar like a rock star,
riding a crowded
back, urban feral foxes screaming in the night,
Bach sung in a 12th century church, kedgeree, the ghost of someone I used to love who lived there for a time, walking not driving, homemade sloe gin,
I finally made it to Paris, for one day only. Just long enough to buy a frivolous blue velvet coat on sale, drink Champagne at the top of the Pompidou, shop, street-watch from a café and fracture my ankle. I fell so hard in love with the city that I saw stars— or maybe it was the broken ankle that caused that.
Everything I wear is mostly black, and that’s fine with me. I’m not a pastel person, and a black wardrobe simplifies getting dressed in the morning. But blue suede shoes for a touch of Elvis? Hell yeah.
I Am Love is one of the most intriguing movies I’ve seen lately, and scenes from it continue to haunt me.
Art tape designed by Rob Ryan is the coolest ever, right up there with the dime store goldfish tape I bought in London.
I’m addicted to wearing lots of little bracelets on one arm like amulets. Right now I have four favorites: an orange string with a Buddha, silver beads on a brown leather string, a silver-bead macramé band and this new triple red one. Mpaperarts.etsy.com
Nikki Hardin is the founder and publisher of skirt! magazine. She blogs at fridaville.com. 34
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Kathryn Barmore • 525-9596 • Kathryn.Barmore@Skirt.com skirt.com
Don’t buy cheap clothes. Buy good clothes, cheap.
NOW CARRYING MATERNITY AND PLUS SIZE CLOTHING
Greenville’s designer consignment boutique. Located in McDaniel Village with Panera Bread and Coplon’s
1922 Augusta Street | 864.631.1919 | M-F 10-6, Sat. 10-5 | www.labelsonaugusta.com