This past year, I bought my first house (turns out that having a mortgage feels very adult), attended the coolest conference on earth, rediscovered San Francisco, read a life-changing book, and hit the most grueling yet rewarding project deadline at work. And that’s just off the top of my head.

Since I have no super pithy insights for you as I stand one year away from the big Four-O, I’ve opted instead to share some personal photos (I know, so cliché).

Here I am at about age three, standing in a field with my trusty camera (hey, it’s vintage now). My mom would say, “This little girl is not the same person as my grown daughter. It’s not possible!”

It was autumn. It must have been chilly. I look uncertain and concerned.

Fast-forward a decade to my 8th grade graduation ceremony, and in case you were wondering, yes, I’m sporting a satin ribbon in my hair.

I remember this white frilly dress with its sailor collar and drop waist. Didn’t 8th grade look very innocent back then?

Now zoom ahead another twenty years to the summer of 2005. I was training for my first marathon, but that dream would have to wait a while longer.

My early-30s, post-run face was a bit rounder and filled out.

And two days ago, Andrew took these shots of me before and after my last run as a 38-year-old.

Heading out the patio door. As SportsCenter’s Stuart Scott might say, “Clear eyes, full heart, can’t lose!”

I ended the six-mile run by hoofing up a monster hill in my neighborhood. It had to be done.

My one parting thought is this: if life is like a marathon, then I’m approaching the midpoint (if I should be so lucky to cross the finish line at eighty or beyond). The road isn’t always easy, and it’s sometimes a tortuous slog. But you can’t give up because the clock keeps ticking. You also find unexpected stretches where you can coast, where everything somehow clicks together. It evens out in the end.

I’m a late bloomer in many ways but prefer to think of myself as having a strong, second-half kick.

Related posts you might like:

• My 38th birthday last year
• Autumn baby
• Marathon glory
• More marathon glory
• I dream of Nike

Update on September 26, 2012: Andrew took me out to dinner but for dessert, he had stopped at a local bakery to buy me a cupcake (isn’t he cute?). Although I was too full to eat it that evening, it was very tasty the next day.

Birthday cupcake in my fridge.

For me, grief has been a good teacher. One of the most important lessons I’ve learned is that life can change on a dime. So when things seem to be going well and rolling along, I always try to remain humble and grateful because you never know what’s coming next.

My dad’s favorite view from the deck of my parents’ house

The other invaluable lesson is that your health is everything. As someone who now has a family history of heart disease, I’d like to share with you some staggering facts. Each year, the American Heart Association (AHA), in conjunction with the CDC, the NIH, and other government agencies, compiles the most up-to-date statistics on cardiovascular disease (which includes heart disease and stroke).

From the 2012 report:

• Cardiovascular disease (CVD) is the leading cause of death for both men and women in the U.S.  It kills 800,000 Americans a year.
• In 2008, it accounted for 1 of every 3 deaths.
• On the basis of 2008 mortality rate data, more than 2,200 Americans die of CVD each day, an average of 1 death every 39 seconds.
• In 2008, CVD killed about 150,000 Americans who were 65 years old or younger.

Major risk factors that you can control with behavior modifications and/or medicine:

• Smoking
• High cholesterol
• High blood pressure
• Physical inactivity
• Obesity
• Diabetes

I think pipe smoking and lack of regular aerobic exercise were the nails in my dad’s coffin. The scary part is that he had had a physical a few weeks before he passed away, and he passed those tests—including blood pressure and an EKG—with flying colors.

Take it to heart

Believe me, I haven’t turned into a vegan triathlete with a Type B personality. But I don’t eat burgers everyday either. Although marathon training in 2010 was admittedly more extreme than my normal routine, I’ve found that moderation is key.

So I’m about to head out for a leisurely run on this sunny Saturday afternoon. It’s my way of celebrating my dad’s life while walking the talk.

Phoning my mom at age three, circa 1976.

Of course it’s not all about you. I’m assuming it’s a two-way street—that a mother’s health is positively impacted by hearing her child’s voice. (Then again, it might depend on the actual conversation, which is a whole different story.)

As Timothy Egan observes in the New York Times, “[Your mother is] the true keeper of your memories, your triumphs, your losses. Your mother is a scrapbook for all your enthusiasms…”

Well here’s my own maternal memory cache:

Photo of Mama Oh and me, taken about one year ago.

Thanks for the chat this morning, Mom, and Happy Mother’s Day!

Classic car show in Chester Springs, PA on Memorial Day 2008

But May is also melancholy. The bookends of my dad’s life occurred during this month. He was born on May 2, 1938. He passed away on May 19, 1999. Anyone who’s ever grieved for someone near and dear knows that you never get over the death. You learn to live with it—the experience becomes part of you. In this post last year, I reflected on what my dad meant to me.

And this non-Instagram-filtered photo says it all:

Daddy’s little girl

The snapshot sits framed on my desk, a tender piece of history.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

My dad took this photo of me when I was maybe four years old. (Lovely ’70s furniture in our old apartment, right?) My mom is holding up one of my gifts: a pink crocheted shawl from the now-defunct, Philly-based Strawbridge & Clothier department store. As you can tell from the expression on my face, I absolutely loved this shawl. And Andrew thinks this also marks the first time I fell in love with clothes and fashion.

Childhood: enjoying a girly pink shawl

Now fast-forward about thirty-two years to December 2009. Using his old flip-top feature phone, Andrew snapped this photo of me. (He insists on mentioning that he has since upgraded to a premium smartphone.) I was trying on my new Kate Spade “Bah Hum Bug” merino wool, fleece-lined ski hat. My attempt at doing a Scrooge impersonation failed miserably so I resorted to a smile.

Adulthood: enjoying some cheeky messaging

I hope this holiday is a memorable one for you and yours.

Merry Christmas!

This photo…

could be from:

A) the movie The Royal Tenenbaums

B) the book True Prep

C) the Ralph Lauren dreams of a young Korean-American girl

D) None of the above. Where are the critter pants, madras and pearls?

Bonus points: How do you pronounce Groton and Choate?

Footnote: I’m not the only one thinking about The Royal Tenenbaums. Here’s a recent tribute in Design*Sponge.

I like the fallen leaves in shades of burnt sienna, ochre and russet. And my little glossy Mary Janes.

P.S. I think Anna Sui had a similar inspiration for her Fall 2000 Ready-to-Wear collection:

Runway photo via style.com

]]> http://jenrocksfashion.com/2011/09/28/a-blast-from-an-autumn-past/feed/ 1 http://jenrocksfashion.com/2011/07/27/love-letter-to-nike/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=love-letter-to-nike http://jenrocksfashion.com/2011/07/27/love-letter-to-nike/#comments Thu, 28 Jul 2011 03:00:40 +0000 http://jenrocksfashion.com/?p=1579 Dear Nike,

I have loved you since 2003. Wait, let me clarify—I was wearing your Swoosh way before then. Here I am at 8 years old:

My 8-year-old self, rocking Nikes with a red swoosh

It wasn’t until two decades later, though, that I really fell for you. Oddly enough, you appealed to my head first, then my heart. (I know, I’m definitely not your average fan.) For my brand management course in grad school, I did a case study on you and was hooked. I was intrigued by Young & Rubicam’s Brand Asset Valuator®, especially the idea of archetype branding. (For those of you who want to nerd out even more, get this definitive book on the subject.) You were hailed as the Hero Archetype, offering every body* the opportunity to show courage and strength. Everyone wants to be a Hero, natch.

My silver Nike Air Zooms

But, let’s forget the highfalutin marketing concepts for a moment. I also have a visceral connection to you. There’s something so simple, universal and inspiring about your mantra “Just Do It.” No excuses. Get up and get out there. Triumph over adversity. One of your best campaigns was Courage from 2008. I mean, if someone watches this and her heart isn’t racing by the time Oscar Pistorius is sprinting at the end, she may not be human. Seriously.

I count on you in very practical ways too. During early morning training runs across the Key Bridge for my first marathon last year, the image of Joan Benoit Samuelson from your 2006 Awake commercial kept me going. On race day, I wore your Featherlite cap and your flattering Sports Top which had two invaluable pockets in the back where I stashed four gel packets. I felt heroic (although nothing compared to the Marines) and healthy, and yep, I looked good too. My only tiny regret is that I had to use a chunky Garmin Forerunner 110 since your sleek Nike+ GPS SportWatch wasn’t available in 2010. 

Yours truly after completing the 2010 Marine Corps Marathon

I’ll be in Manhattan tomorrow, and your 21 Mercer boutique is one of two stores in Soho (the other being Opening Ceremony) that are on my must-see list. I know you only sell men’s stuff there, but I can’t wait to check it out anyway.

Thank you for being the coolest design shop around and for always keeping me wanting more.

Love,
Jennifer

* If you have a body, you are an athlete.

Related posts you might like:

Cinderella in Running Shoes

Waiting for Wonder Woman

Winging It

What to Wear for Eternity

Yours truly at 8 years old

Don’t ask me what I’m doing with my eyes, or why I’m just standing there in our old family room with my mom’s overflowing collection of African violets in the background. (And is this the exact color palette of the Brady Bunch series or what?) Instead, take note of how Marc by Marc Jacobs my outfit is! Now the designer has taken some knocks lately with critics declaring that his brand has lost its cool cachet and any semblance of consistency. But I still appreciate his quirky yet accessible clothes, most of which are sadly out of my price range without the help of a killer sale. So in honor of MJ, here are two updated interpretations of my original childhood outfit:

Option #1) Marc by Marc Jacobs Meredith sweater dress

Meredith cotton sweater dress, Spring 2008 Ready-to-Wear

Option #2) Marc by Marc Jacobs Holly Sea Scout wool-blend sweater tucked into this Louis Vuitton leather circle skirt.

Holly Sea Scout sweater, Fall 2010 Ready-to-Wear (I think)

Fifties-inspired look by Louis Vuitton (with Marc Jacobs as Creative Director), Fall 2010 Ready-to-Wear

I think I’m always initially surprised—and then not surprised at all—that everything in fashion eventually comes full circle. What’s especially inspiring for me, though, is observing how women put their own spin on a runway look. There are a million ways to make Marc your own. Cheers!

Like every other girl in the mid-80s, I latched onto the Flashdance fashion craze: oversized sweatshirt with the neck cut off, permed hair, legwarmers and leotards. As you can see below, I’m not conveying an ounce of sultriness or seduction with my interpretation. (And please note how colorful a fashionista I was even back then.) At any rate, this is what 14 looked like in my day.

Yeah, I know you’re familiar with this iconic 80s look

Fallen angel—not! (circa 1987)

In middle school, we kids thought we were being so clever and racy by changing the words “Take your passion, and make it happen…” from the theme song “What a Feeling” to “Take your pants off, and make it happen…” Geez, it seems ridiculously quaint now compared to Rihanna boasting about S&M, or Santana and Brittany becoming scissor sisters on Glee. But wait, maybe they’re just doing a little DIY together on their sweatshirts??