I’ve been fortunate enough to have a few events in my time working as Corter Leather leave me speechless. I can honestly say this one will be hard to beat.
The folks at Magic, the biggest fashion tradeshow in the western hemisphere, have invited me and the Corter Van to help represent American manufacturing in Las Vegas during their August show. I’ll be finishing up the van and driving across the country, where I’ll be parking the van ON the Sourcing floor, surrounded by the biggest clothing manufacturers in the world.
I’m not going there to find retail accounts. I’m not dressing up, and I’m not printing pamphlets. I’m going to Magic to produce at full capacity right there on the show floor out of my workshop-on-wheels. I’m going to talk about my process and how I run Corter, and I’m excited to show people that making things in America is not only possible, it’s a beautiful way to do business at any scale.
The Road to Magic starts now!
Covered in Rain
It’s late, but I can’t sleep because the bomb squad trucks keep driving past and they’re very loud. I know that I’ll wake up tomorrow to a new city; a city still absorbing the shock, a city getting used to it’s new pre- and post-.
I’ve got the picture Jocelyn took on her way home from breakfast this morning burned into my mind. It was a picture that I only glanced at in the pre-, a five second pause on my Instagram feed enroute to our watching post atop Heartbreak Hill from our apartment a mile away. Even though I don’t remember the fine details, I can’t bring myself to look at it in the post-…I don’t need to. It’s an image I know well; it’s a fun skid patch on my track bike in college, a daredevil photo op when family came to visit, and a reminder of the seasons as the fresh Spring paint faded and chipped with the foliage and traffic, only to be reborn again the next year.
I’ve never been afraid for my own life, so I could never compare that to fearing for the lives of the friends and loved ones that were down at that finish line today. I can only be grateful for those that made it out unscathed, and help those that weren’t as lucky.
Boston’s a small town so most of us have friends and family that were feet away from those attacks. It’s going to be a long road to healing our little city, much longer than I think a lot of us can foresee. However, I know we’ll get used to this post- Boston. We’ll retrain, break in a new pair of sneakers, and run a fresh race…because 26.1 ain’t a marathon, and we didn’t come here to not cross that finish line.