She’s Making Jewelry Now
I mean, I’m not even kidding, that is me; though I definitely did not randomly wake up and decide to label myself a jewelry designer. Anyone who knows me can attest that accessories have been dazzling my outfits since I was tiny. I’ve been along this trajectory for as long as I can remember, without thinking too deeply into it. My creative endeavors truly started in the classroom during preschool, like many kids. I found so much comfort and freedom within this internal world, that I continued to cultivate the seedlings throughout the following forty something years. The curiosity that I felt upon picking up those big, fat crayons at Sterling House preschool wasn’t something that I would eventually grow out of; in fact, that curiosity only expanded and sparked a tiny, unwavering flame that persisted and eventually led to a colorful creative career. I am very comfortable being present here right now, but story began much earlier than today.
Liz R. + The House on The End of The Cul-de-sac —
I used to dress my sister and myself in bespoke “dresses” made of our mom’s fabric remnants and paper. Our pieces were glorious, y’all! Along with our best friend, Liz, the three of us spent hours, every single day of our summer vacations, playing dress-up in Liz’s room while blasting Debbie Gibson or Madonna from my sister’s Pocket Rocker (iykyk). I hadn’t realized at the time, but Liz was indisputably a cool girl. She was, like, five years old when she showed me how to style an old fabric scrap from my mom’s previous projects into a headband or cool necklace. She couldn’t understand why adults didn’t wear tap dancing shoes every day or why she couldn’t realistically wear her shiny, metallic dance costumes to school. She wore clothes for fun, the clothes did not wear her. Liz was my inspiration and I wanted to be like her. We remained friends until she moved away and I found myself solo on what was once our own creative little planet, filled with sequins, feathers, and lots of shiny tulle..
Mom, Biji, + Me —
Enter grade school, when I learned to sew. My mom introduced me to her Singer machine, piece by piece. An otherwise hasty woman, she took her time to show me what she considered proper techniques, as well as the tips and tricks that she had taught herself over the decades. I was too young to realize what I can now see clearly as an adult, that this was her space —sitting at her sewing machine, with a textile between her fingers— that she was able to slow down and truly be in the moment. She was a working immigrant woman with three young children and no family nearby, to rely on for support, so I imagine that time for herself to do things that brought her pure joy was a luxury always slightly out of reach. Sewing had been something meaningful that she did as a necessity in India, alongside Biji (my grandmother). In America, it seemed to have become an indulgence that she couldn’t afford the means to acquire —which was simply time. I can only imagine how soul-sucking that must have been, given how entrenched fabric, sewing, and hand-creating has been in her life prior to coming to America. My great-grandfather was a lifelong employee at a Singer sewing machine factory in Karachi, Pakistan. When the family moved to Lahore, in Northern Pakistan, Biji worked as a seamstress prior to marrying my grandfather. They eventually migrated to India and, five live births later, Biji taught Mom how to sew clothing out of necessity. For Mom, working with textiles was a fundamental part of her upbringing. Since she found an inherent value in it, she was able to decelerate during those small amounts of times that she carved out in order to teach me.
Fashion, Trade School, + a Calling To Austin —
Once introduced to the machine, my interest in fashion took to new heights. I’d tag along to JoAnn Fabrics (RIP) with Mom and my Mamiji (aunt) to small, local shops that Mamiji somehow managed to find in pre-internet days. By middle school, I understood the basics and began to repurpose Mom’s old dupattas (scarves) into tops. As I experimented with pattern making in high school, I had moved on to dupatta dresses. Everything looked exactly as you’d imagine for a self-taught, high school kid using JoAnn polyester dupes —wonky AF. I’m sure I looked a mess, but I’m also sure that I learned quite a bit and 10/10 would do it again. I graduated high school in 2000, so it was the late 90’s when all of this was taking shape. This was right around the time that I discovered thrift stores, so my natural progression led to upcycling Goodwill finds with Rit dye, lace, and sequin paillettes. After high school, I moved to nearby NYC and attended a fashion design program at a trade school where I learned, well, the trade —drafting, construction and the hands-on technical aspects of creating clothing. This move was recommended by my high school fine arts teacher, whom seemed to see beyond the skipped stitches and frayed edges in my work. When I completed that program, I decided to study Marketing at Fordham University while freelancing in the city. My husband is from Houston and attended college at UT Austin. He loved this city and wanted to show me all of the nooks and crannies. I went back to NY to finish school and as soon as I graduated, I moved to Austin in 2011. Once here, something immediately clicked and I felt in my soul that these are my people! It was here that I began to sell my handmade clothing directly to clients on Etsy and vendor markets.
Twenties: Wide-eyed + Idealistic —
I still love designing and keeping up with the industry, but making clothing to sell stopped feeding my soul long ago. In my twenties I was blindly enthusiastic about fashion and learning as much about the ins and outs as possible. My previous project, Navi Bleu, remains very dear to me. In those eight years, I took advantage of opportunities to travel as much as I could, along with my husband. We explored cities and countries together and scouted local markets and garment districts for my favorite things: textiles, embellishments and beads, and vintage clothing. We got it down to a science -he planned the travel and mapping logistics and I focused my research on shopping for the goods. Afterward, I’d dig all of my finds out of my suitcase and then designed and hand-made collections around my experience there. For a few seasons, I had an opportunity to work with tailors, textile manufacturers, and dyers in India. The process was exhausting to navigate on my own, but the experience provided a vast amount of knowledge and understanding of not only the clothing manufacturing process, but also of my personal standards. I cannot even put into words how much I appreciate the invaluable insight that I acquired by being “on the field” and being involved in every step of the manufacturing process.
Thirties: A Shift in Mindset —
As I grew into my thirties, I began to reassess my values and adjust what I was able to control, as needed. Small, but meaningful, changes eventually led to a shift in mindset. With time (and age), I found myself less excited about wanting to make pretty things just because, and more inclined to focus on environmental and real life concerns. This aggressive sense of awareness increasingly started to misalign with how I chose to work. I felt a mix of guilt and responsibility about being so flippant with our limited resources and for being a part of an industry that is very comfortable being so openly wasteful. The weight of these thoughts, paired with mental burnout, started to feel suffocating. I wasn’t actively managing my ADHD at the time, so I was often left with unfinished projects and feelings of overwhelm. I began to hate everything that I loved about making clothing: the process. I sold my dress forms, well two of the gang, and completely stopped sewing for years. In 2020, during the very beginning of lockdown, I opened the large closet in our office and started to remove the hangers, one by one. Each had an individually-draped textile, with a handwritten Post-It stating yardage, price, and where I picked it up. They they were —alpaca wool from my trip to Peru, silk from Japan, whimsical knits from Barcelona, all just hanging and waiting for the day that I’d think of a project worthy of them. This realization was depressing —as if I was standing in the middle of a doorframe, apprehensive of both my feelings and my next move because opening this door to one room felt right, but closing it to the other felt disappointing. Am I quitting without even *really* trying? What does that say about me?” Like the rest of the world during this time, I found myself with a bit of available time, I allowed myself to sit in this “doorframe” and just be. I gave up alcohol very early into lockdowns (5 years clean today!), so the thoughts were extra loud. There weren’t being silenced, so I had no choice but to really listen to what my mind and body were telling me. This was also right after the loss of Sofia; therefore mentally, I already felt as if I was half-assing everything, even carrying a child properly. The self-criticism was strong, but I’m glad to say it did eventually give way to allow space for healing.
I decided I didn’t want to make clothing to sell anymore. It felt right and I’m good with it. I allowed myself one non-negotiable and one “just for fun” from each location to keep and donated the rest. I kept all of my mother-in-law and mom’s Indian dupattas, saris, and random dangly bits that I had cut from the unsalvageable. I sent boxes of trims, lining fabric, and supplies to Austin Creative Reuse, one my favorite organizations in town. The handful of damaged pieces previously pulled aside, with dye runoff or irregular seams, were cut up into various sizes of fabric that I reused for visible mending and maximalist photo mat covers. For the remainder of the scraps, I began incorporating them into jewelry. I believe this is when it dawned upon me, that I had apparently moved from the hypothetical doorframe into the a new room. It was blank, but ready for me to fill it with new pops of joy, while my fabric was off to reach new hands across Austin. I hope amazing things were created using them!
This is the “why”, the reasons why I ditched making clothes and decided to focus, with full intention, on making pieces of jewelry and wearables that reflect me, where I am today, and my love and appreciation of our world. I have so much to share about my process, inspirations, genuine love of wearing jewerly. and the cultural significance of it in my culture and many others. Glad to have you here!
x, Navi