As the story goes, when I was around 4 or 5 years old, I started begging my mom to let me use her sewing machine. Despite her fears around the safety of such a thing, I suppose my persistence paid off and she finally let me give it a try.
I haven’t stopped sewing since. I used to stay up late during the summer months sewing Cabbage Patch doll clothes, and eventually moved on to sewing my own clothes.
Through a local 4-H program, I was able to show my work and get validation and feedback for not only my craftsmanship but also my designs.
It was definitely a time of finding my own style and testing the waters as far as colors and fabrics and different techniques. And I probably got some strange looks from the kids at school. I remember a particular magenta-colored satin princess-seamed dress with matching bolero jacket that I designed and entered in a McCall’s Sew & Show contest (I won third place). In the submission photo, I’m an awkward 13 years old, with thick glasses, frizzy hair and braces, standing to the side of a grand piano and smiling proudly in this odd magenta number!
My mom was — and continues to be — my biggest supporter. She took me to a sewing conference to meet designer Nancy Zieman; found a woman to teach me classic tailoring when I wanted to make suits; let me go to Huntsville, Alabama, to study heirloom sewing with Martha Pullen; and fed my endless sewing passion with fabrics and all the tools and notions needed.
As I studied heirloom sewing, I developed an appreciation for hand-embroidery techniques and started collecting vintage christening gowns, smocked dresses and embroidered pillowcases. Maybe you’ve admired a few in antique stores, too, or collected your own. I suppose my fascination with old things has been a constant in my life.
Whether it’s old books, old sewing patterns, or treasures from my great-grandmother and grandmother, I love old things. So, it’s no surprise that my newest business venture involves giving beautiful old things new life.
When it came time to think about what kind of career I would create for myself, it was natural that I wanted to do something with sewing and clothing. But the thing is, back in those days — the late 90s — it was nearly impossible to make a good income from a hobby like sewing. I knew I didn’t want to work in a factory … I had dreams of opening my own boutique.
But my dad reminded me that I had no experience running a store and that I should go to work for someone who did. So, I put on my most stylish suit (one I’d made) and marched into Nordstrom in downtown Seattle and landed a job on the sales floor. The minor detail of no experience didn’t stop me and, from there, my fashion career continued for the next 15 years.
I worked my way up the ranks from sales associate to moving on to a different brand as store manager. I moved to Los Angeles, then to New York (which was my dream!). And finally, worked my way up to a retail director role for Emilio Pucci, where I was responsible for the bottom line of our five U.S. boutiques. I was also required to travel to Italy for fashion shows and the seasonal store clothing buys and all the festivities.
It was every fashion girl’s dream!
Being surrounded by fashion, and luxury fashion at that, was really inspiring. As makers, we often think, “I can make that!” — and I did. A tiny desk in my studio apartment became my sewing space, and precious closet space was reserved for notions and a serger. I started documenting my sewing and fashion travels on an Instagram account called Sewing and the City.
The dream of having my own store only persisted as a bad case of corporate burnout started to set in. I had two mysterious allergy attacks that landed me twice in ambulances to the hospital. The stress of traveling, increased responsibilities, and the New York City grind was taking its toll.
I still hadn’t figured out how to monetize Sewing and the City. By chance, I started studying web design with a hint that it was something I could do no matter the location. In 2015, when I was finally ready, I made the jump and left my corporate life and NYC behind.
With the taste of Europe on my tongue, I decided to take a sabbatical on a small Spanish island in the Atlantic Ocean. Lanzarote, with all its volcanic energy, was a place I could truly reset. Between exploring the beach and volcanoes, I built websites for people building their businesses online.
It turns out, learning tech skills was one of the most important things I did. When you can build a website, set it up to take payments and connect it to an email service provider … you’re building a business. I worked with, and then surrounded myself with, more and more friends doing what they loved … online.
And one day it finally occurred to me. I was helping all of these other people build their dream businesses online — why not me?
I spent several months toiling with ideas for what I wanted to build while still working for clients. And that faithful voice kept nudging me — “Sewing and the City” — and I kept pushing it down … for months!! Sometimes, the thing we know we need to do is so scary, so real, that we ignore it until it’s so loud you cannot deny it any longer.
In 2019, I turned the lights on in that Instagram account once again and started building my audience there and through my email list.
A few months later, I launched my first digital product for Sewing and the City: Stitch Playbook, a beginner’s how-to sewing course that is still one of my most popular offerings today.
Looking back, my biggest bit of advice to share with those of you thinking about launching your own business, especially online, is to just start. Don’t overthink anything. Decide on one small product and get it to market as quickly as you can.
Because, what happened after launching Stitch Playbook was: I suddenly had customers! Actual, real-life people willing to pay me for things, and so, I started talking to them. They told me what they needed. I learned more about their lifestyles, what they wanted to wear and sew. And from there, I created my next products.
TIARA BY CARMEN ORTÍ TOCADOS Y PAMELAS
Remember that sewing conference my mom brought me to when I was a kid to meet Nancy Zieman? Last year, I got to teach at that same conference! A full-circle moment. I even had a few young girls in my classes, a reminder that younger hands are watching and learning.
There are oodles of opportunities waiting for you, but you have to start in order to find them. Now, with over 30 digital products selling from my own (self-built) website and physical patterns selling in sewing shops around the world, plus a YouTube channel and a weekly newsletter, that familiar nudge returned once again.
“Start your own clothing brand,” it said.
From a logical perspective, it made perfect sense. I have the patterns, why not take those assets and put them to another use?
But I had been behind the scenes in a retail business and while there are many glamorous facets of it, there are also extreme risks. One bad collection can put a small business under with a stockroom of unsold inventory. I remembered my burnout. Did I really want to enter this game again?
The nudge said: “Yes.”
And one day, while perusing an antiques market in Spain, I reconnected with my love of embroidery as my hands touched some old, forgotten linens. I bought them, only because I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving them behind.
Each week, I found a few more.
While making new patterns and content for Sewing and the City, I started experimenting with these old linens, refashioning them into blouses and dresses for myself.
And somewhere between the stitches, I realized just how beautiful these old embroidered linens would be as bridal “getting-ready” robes. Something old, indeed.
I’ve spent the last few months creating new patterns and making samples, getting the styles just right. I’ve mastered the art of pattern placement, utilizing the embroidery designs within the pattern design, while admiring each careful stitch made by the seamstress before me.
Instead of mass production, we make each piece individually. Each is unique and made by my hands or by one of the two seamstresses on my team. No overlockers are used — all interior seams are finished as French seams; lace is hand sewn; labels attached by hand. Many are made bespoke-on-demand, so there’s no excess stock.
But one thing was missing … the name.
Lindy is a family nickname, as I suppose over the years “Lindy” became easier to say than our last name, Lindebak. And when searching for the name of my new project, it first became clear to me that I wanted to use my own name, but in a playful way, not as serious as using my full name as a designer might. And one day, the answer I was asking for was given. I played with “Lindy Lindy” — writing it, saying it, sharing it with those close to me. And it felt just like that: playful and fun to say, not too serious or stuffy but elegant. And so … Lindy Lindy.
And just like Sewing and the City, I’ve launched Lindy Lindy as quickly as possible, a small first collection from which I’ll iterate upon.
One of the greatest tools we have as creatives is to see things before they’re created. To see the possibilities where others may see nothing. To harness our visionary abilities is to truly step into our natural creativity. I encourage anyone reading this to grab your vision and go for it — bring it to reality! Few things in life bring such joy and satisfaction.
1. Select the fabric
The embroidery and colors of each vintage piece are unique — some have cross stitch in multiple colors, some are applique, and others have cut work or tatting edging — so you must first envision the pattern placement and what style of garment would suit a particular piece of embroidery.
2. Place the pattern
This may be just as important to the design as the cut itself! I often play for some time just to get the placement the way I like it.
3. Cut out the fabric
It’s SO hard to make the first cut into a vintage fabric. I always double-check my work.
4. Sew
All pieces are sewn with sewing machines (no overlockers) with French seams.
5. Press
I love crisp seams (pressing is often overlooked, especially by mass-market brands). All pieces are final pressed to perfection.
6. Packaging
I wanted to create a beautiful package-opening experience, especially since the customer isn’t coming into a physical store.
About my assistant
Usually found with thread tails stuck to his paws or in his tail, Owen is my faithful studio buddy. He comes and goes between his naps, usually making himself known when he’d like a snack! He also seems to intuitively know when I need a break, at which point he’ll bring in one of his many balls to coax me into playing.
As the story goes, when I was around 4 or 5 years old, I started begging my mom to let me use her sewing machine. Despite her fears around the safety of such a thing, I suppose my persistence paid off and she finally let me give it a try.
I haven’t stopped sewing since. I used to stay up late during the summer months sewing Cabbage Patch doll clothes, and eventually moved on to sewing my own clothes.
Through a local 4-H program, I was able to show my work and get validation and feedback for not only my craftsmanship but also my designs.
It was definitely a time of finding my own style and testing the waters as far as colors and fabrics and different techniques. And I probably got some strange looks from the kids at school. I remember a particular magenta-colored satin princess-seamed dress with matching bolero jacket that I designed and entered in a McCall’s Sew & Show contest (I won third place). In the submission photo, I’m an awkward 13 years old, with thick glasses, frizzy hair and braces, standing to the side of a grand piano and smiling proudly in this odd magenta number!
My mom was — and continues to be — my biggest supporter. She took me to a sewing conference to meet designer Nancy Zieman; found a woman to teach me classic tailoring when I wanted to make suits; let me go to Huntsville, Alabama, to study heirloom sewing with Martha Pullen; and fed my endless sewing passion with fabrics and all the tools and notions needed.
As I studied heirloom sewing, I developed an appreciation for hand-embroidery techniques and started collecting vintage christening gowns, smocked dresses and embroidered pillowcases. Maybe you’ve admired a few in antique stores, too, or collected your own. I suppose my fascination with old things has been a constant in my life.
Whether it’s old books, old sewing patterns, or treasures from my great-grandmother and grandmother, I love old things. So, it’s no surprise that my newest business venture involves giving beautiful old things new life.
When it came time to think about what kind of career I would create for myself, it was natural that I wanted to do something with sewing and clothing. But the thing is, back in those days — the late 90s — it was nearly impossible to make a good income from a hobby like sewing. I knew I didn’t want to work in a factory … I had dreams of opening my own boutique.
But my dad reminded me that I had no experience running a store and that I should go to work for someone who did. So, I put on my most stylish suit (one I’d made) and marched into Nordstrom in downtown Seattle and landed a job on the sales floor. The minor detail of no experience didn’t stop me and, from there, my fashion career continued for the next 15 years.
I worked my way up the ranks from sales associate to moving on to a different brand as store manager. I moved to Los Angeles, then to New York (which was my dream!). And finally, worked my way up to a retail director role for Emilio Pucci, where I was responsible for the bottom line of our five U.S. boutiques. I was also required to travel to Italy for fashion shows and the seasonal store clothing buys and all the festivities.
It was every fashion girl’s dream!
Being surrounded by fashion, and luxury fashion at that, was really inspiring. As makers, we often think, “I can make that!” — and I did. A tiny desk in my studio apartment became my sewing space, and precious closet space was reserved for notions and a serger. I started documenting my sewing and fashion travels on an Instagram account called Sewing and the City.
The dream of having my own store only persisted as a bad case of corporate burnout started to set in. I had two mysterious allergy attacks that landed me twice in ambulances to the hospital. The stress of traveling, increased responsibilities, and the New York City grind was taking its toll.
I still hadn’t figured out how to monetize Sewing and the City. By chance, I started studying web design with a hint that it was something I could do no matter the location. In 2015, when I was finally ready, I made the jump and left my corporate life and NYC behind.
With the taste of Europe on my tongue, I decided to take a sabbatical on a small Spanish island in the Atlantic Ocean. Lanzarote, with all its volcanic energy, was a place I could truly reset. Between exploring the beach and volcanoes, I built websites for people building their businesses online.
It turns out, learning tech skills was one of the most important things I did. When you can build a website, set it up to take payments and connect it to an email service provider … you’re building a business. I worked with, and then surrounded myself with, more and more friends doing what they loved … online.
And one day it finally occurred to me. I was helping all of these other people build their dream businesses online — why not me?
I spent several months toiling with ideas for what I wanted to build while still working for clients. And that faithful voice kept nudging me — “Sewing and the City” — and I kept pushing it down … for months!! Sometimes, the thing we know we need to do is so scary, so real, that we ignore it until it’s so loud you cannot deny it any longer.
In 2019, I turned the lights on in that Instagram account once again and started building my audience there and through my email list.
A few months later, I launched my first digital product for Sewing and the City: Stitch Playbook, a beginner’s how-to sewing course that is still one of my most popular offerings today.
Looking back, my biggest bit of advice to share with those of you thinking about launching your own business, especially online, is to just start. Don’t overthink anything. Decide on one small product and get it to market as quickly as you can.
Because, what happened after launching Stitch Playbook was: I suddenly had customers! Actual, real-life people willing to pay me for things, and so, I started talking to them. They told me what they needed. I learned more about their lifestyles, what they wanted to wear and sew. And from there, I created my next products.
TIARA BY CARMEN ORTÍ TOCADOS Y PAMELAS
Remember that sewing conference my mom brought me to when I was a kid to meet Nancy Zieman? Last year, I got to teach at that same conference! A full-circle moment. I even had a few young girls in my classes, a reminder that younger hands are watching and learning.
There are oodles of opportunities waiting for you, but you have to start in order to find them. Now, with over 30 digital products selling from my own (self-built) website and physical patterns selling in sewing shops around the world, plus a YouTube channel and a weekly newsletter, that familiar nudge returned once again.
“Start your own clothing brand,” it said.
From a logical perspective, it made perfect sense. I have the patterns, why not take those assets and put them to another use?
But I had been behind the scenes in a retail business and while there are many glamorous facets of it, there are also extreme risks. One bad collection can put a small business under with a stockroom of unsold inventory. I remembered my burnout. Did I really want to enter this game again?
The nudge said: “Yes.”
And one day, while perusing an antiques market in Spain, I reconnected with my love of embroidery as my hands touched some old, forgotten linens. I bought them, only because I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving them behind.
Each week, I found a few more.
While making new patterns and content for Sewing and the City, I started experimenting with these old linens, refashioning them into blouses and dresses for myself.
And somewhere between the stitches, I realized just how beautiful these old embroidered linens would be as bridal “getting-ready” robes. Something old, indeed.
I’ve spent the last few months creating new patterns and making samples, getting the styles just right. I’ve mastered the art of pattern placement, utilizing the embroidery designs within the pattern design, while admiring each careful stitch made by the seamstress before me.
Instead of mass production, we make each piece individually. Each is unique and made by my hands or by one of the two seamstresses on my team. No overlockers are used — all interior seams are finished as French seams; lace is hand sewn; labels attached by hand. Many are made bespoke-on-demand, so there’s no excess stock.
But one thing was missing … the name.
Lindy is a family nickname, as I suppose over the years “Lindy” became easier to say than our last name, Lindebak. And when searching for the name of my new project, it first became clear to me that I wanted to use my own name, but in a playful way, not as serious as using my full name as a designer might. And one day, the answer I was asking for was given. I played with “Lindy Lindy” — writing it, saying it, sharing it with those close to me. And it felt just like that: playful and fun to say, not too serious or stuffy but elegant. And so … Lindy Lindy.
And just like Sewing and the City, I’ve launched Lindy Lindy as quickly as possible, a small first collection from which I’ll iterate upon.
One of the greatest tools we have as creatives is to see things before they’re created. To see the possibilities where others may see nothing. To harness our visionary abilities is to truly step into our natural creativity. I encourage anyone reading this to grab your vision and go for it — bring it to reality! Few things in life bring such joy and satisfaction.
1. Select the fabric
The embroidery and colors of each vintage piece are unique — some have cross stitch in multiple colors, some are applique, and others have cut work or tatting edging — so you must first envision the pattern placement and what style of garment would suit a particular piece of embroidery.
2. Place the pattern
This may be just as important to the design as the cut itself! I often play for some time just to get the placement the way I like it.
3. Cut out the fabric
It’s SO hard to make the first cut into a vintage fabric. I always double-check my work.
4. Sew
All pieces are sewn with sewing machines (no overlockers) with French seams.
5. Press
I love crisp seams (pressing is often overlooked, especially by mass-market brands). All pieces are final pressed to perfection.
6. Packaging
I wanted to create a beautiful package-opening experience, especially since the customer isn’t coming into a physical store.
About my assistant
Usually found with thread tails stuck to his paws or in his tail, Owen is my faithful studio buddy. He comes and goes between his naps, usually making himself known when he’d like a snack! He also seems to intuitively know when I need a break, at which point he’ll bring in one of his many balls to coax me into playing.
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As the story goes, when I was around 4 or 5 years old, I started begging my mom to let me use her sewing machine. Despite her fears around the safety of such a thing, I suppose my persistence paid off and she finally let me give it a try.
I haven’t stopped sewing since. I used to stay up late during the summer months sewing Cabbage Patch doll clothes, and eventually moved on to sewing my own clothes.
Through a local 4-H program, I was able to show my work and get validation and feedback for not only my craftsmanship but also my designs.
It was definitely a time of finding my own style and testing the waters as far as colors and fabrics and different techniques. And I probably got some strange looks from the kids at school. I remember a particular magenta-colored satin princess-seamed dress with matching bolero jacket that I designed and entered in a McCall’s Sew & Show contest (I won third place). In the submission photo, I’m an awkward 13 years old, with thick glasses, frizzy hair and braces, standing to the side of a grand piano and smiling proudly in this odd magenta number!
My mom was — and continues to be — my biggest supporter. She took me to a sewing conference to meet designer Nancy Zieman; found a woman to teach me classic tailoring when I wanted to make suits; let me go to Huntsville, Alabama, to study heirloom sewing with Martha Pullen; and fed my endless sewing passion with fabrics and all the tools and notions needed.
As I studied heirloom sewing, I developed an appreciation for hand-embroidery techniques and started collecting vintage christening gowns, smocked dresses and embroidered pillowcases. Maybe you’ve admired a few in antique stores, too, or collected your own. I suppose my fascination with old things has been a constant in my life.
Whether it’s old books, old sewing patterns, or treasures from my great-grandmother and grandmother, I love old things. So, it’s no surprise that my newest business venture involves giving beautiful old things new life.
When it came time to think about what kind of career I would create for myself, it was natural that I wanted to do something with sewing and clothing. But the thing is, back in those days — the late 90s — it was nearly impossible to make a good income from a hobby like sewing. I knew I didn’t want to work in a factory … I had dreams of opening my own boutique.
But my dad reminded me that I had no experience running a store and that I should go to work for someone who did. So, I put on my most stylish suit (one I’d made) and marched into Nordstrom in downtown Seattle and landed a job on the sales floor. The minor detail of no experience didn’t stop me and, from there, my fashion career continued for the next 15 years.
I worked my way up the ranks from sales associate to moving on to a different brand as store manager. I moved to Los Angeles, then to New York (which was my dream!). And finally, worked my way up to a retail director role for Emilio Pucci, where I was responsible for the bottom line of our five U.S. boutiques. I was also required to travel to Italy for fashion shows and the seasonal store clothing buys and all the festivities.
It was every fashion girl’s dream!
Being surrounded by fashion, and luxury fashion at that, was really inspiring. As makers, we often think, “I can make that!” — and I did. A tiny desk in my studio apartment became my sewing space, and precious closet space was reserved for notions and a serger. I started documenting my sewing and fashion travels on an Instagram account called Sewing and the City.
The dream of having my own store only persisted as a bad case of corporate burnout started to set in. I had two mysterious allergy attacks that landed me twice in ambulances to the hospital. The stress of traveling, increased responsibilities, and the New York City grind was taking its toll.
I still hadn’t figured out how to monetize Sewing and the City. By chance, I started studying web design with a hint that it was something I could do no matter the location. In 2015, when I was finally ready, I made the jump and left my corporate life and NYC behind.
With the taste of Europe on my tongue, I decided to take a sabbatical on a small Spanish island in the Atlantic Ocean. Lanzarote, with all its volcanic energy, was a place I could truly reset. Between exploring the beach and volcanoes, I built websites for people building their businesses online.
It turns out, learning tech skills was one of the most important things I did. When you can build a website, set it up to take payments and connect it to an email service provider … you’re building a business. I worked with, and then surrounded myself with, more and more friends doing what they loved … online.
And one day it finally occurred to me. I was helping all of these other people build their dream businesses online — why not me?
I spent several months toiling with ideas for what I wanted to build while still working for clients. And that faithful voice kept nudging me — “Sewing and the City” — and I kept pushing it down … for months!! Sometimes, the thing we know we need to do is so scary, so real, that we ignore it until it’s so loud you cannot deny it any longer.
In 2019, I turned the lights on in that Instagram account once again and started building my audience there and through my email list.
A few months later, I launched my first digital product for Sewing and the City: Stitch Playbook, a beginner’s how-to sewing course that is still one of my most popular offerings today.
Looking back, my biggest bit of advice to share with those of you thinking about launching your own business, especially online, is to just start. Don’t overthink anything. Decide on one small product and get it to market as quickly as you can.
Because, what happened after launching Stitch Playbook was: I suddenly had customers! Actual, real-life people willing to pay me for things, and so, I started talking to them. They told me what they needed. I learned more about their lifestyles, what they wanted to wear and sew. And from there, I created my next products.
TIARA BY CARMEN ORTÍ TOCADOS Y PAMELAS
Remember that sewing conference my mom brought me to when I was a kid to meet Nancy Zieman? Last year, I got to teach at that same conference! A full-circle moment. I even had a few young girls in my classes, a reminder that younger hands are watching and learning.
There are oodles of opportunities waiting for you, but you have to start in order to find them. Now, with over 30 digital products selling from my own (self-built) website and physical patterns selling in sewing shops around the world, plus a YouTube channel and a weekly newsletter, that familiar nudge returned once again.
“Start your own clothing brand,” it said.
From a logical perspective, it made perfect sense. I have the patterns, why not take those assets and put them to another use?
But I had been behind the scenes in a retail business and while there are many glamorous facets of it, there are also extreme risks. One bad collection can put a small business under with a stockroom of unsold inventory. I remembered my burnout. Did I really want to enter this game again?
The nudge said: “Yes.”
And one day, while perusing an antiques market in Spain, I reconnected with my love of embroidery as my hands touched some old, forgotten linens. I bought them, only because I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving them behind.
Each week, I found a few more.
While making new patterns and content for Sewing and the City, I started experimenting with these old linens, refashioning them into blouses and dresses for myself.
And somewhere between the stitches, I realized just how beautiful these old embroidered linens would be as bridal “getting-ready” robes. Something old, indeed.
I’ve spent the last few months creating new patterns and making samples, getting the styles just right. I’ve mastered the art of pattern placement, utilizing the embroidery designs within the pattern design, while admiring each careful stitch made by the seamstress before me.
Instead of mass production, we make each piece individually. Each is unique and made by my hands or by one of the two seamstresses on my team. No overlockers are used — all interior seams are finished as French seams; lace is hand sewn; labels attached by hand. Many are made bespoke-on-demand, so there’s no excess stock.
But one thing was missing … the name.
Lindy is a family nickname, as I suppose over the years “Lindy” became easier to say than our last name, Lindebak. And when searching for the name of my new project, it first became clear to me that I wanted to use my own name, but in a playful way, not as serious as using my full name as a designer might. And one day, the answer I was asking for was given. I played with “Lindy Lindy” — writing it, saying it, sharing it with those close to me. And it felt just like that: playful and fun to say, not too serious or stuffy but elegant. And so … Lindy Lindy.
And just like Sewing and the City, I’ve launched Lindy Lindy as quickly as possible, a small first collection from which I’ll iterate upon.
One of the greatest tools we have as creatives is to see things before they’re created. To see the possibilities where others may see nothing. To harness our visionary abilities is to truly step into our natural creativity. I encourage anyone reading this to grab your vision and go for it — bring it to reality! Few things in life bring such joy and satisfaction.
1. Select the fabric
The embroidery and colors of each vintage piece are unique — some have cross stitch in multiple colors, some are applique, and others have cut work or tatting edging — so you must first envision the pattern placement and what style of garment would suit a particular piece of embroidery.
2. Place the pattern
This may be just as important to the design as the cut itself! I often play for some time just to get the placement the way I like it.
3. Cut out the fabric
It’s SO hard to make the first cut into a vintage fabric. I always double-check my work.
4. Sew
All pieces are sewn with sewing machines (no overlockers) with French seams.
5. Press
I love crisp seams (pressing is often overlooked, especially by mass-market brands). All pieces are final pressed to perfection.
6. Packaging
I wanted to create a beautiful package-opening experience, especially since the customer isn’t coming into a physical store.
About my assistant
Usually found with thread tails stuck to his paws or in his tail, Owen is my faithful studio buddy. He comes and goes between his naps, usually making himself known when he’d like a snack! He also seems to intuitively know when I need a break, at which point he’ll bring in one of his many balls to coax me into playing.
The Women Create Foundation is a catalyst for small but significant strides to empower women creators through grants that help bring projects to life and foster innovation.
