Life and its relative goodness

There are few labels I actually tend to follow, clothing-wise.  In fact, I can only really name two, though one (Jimmy Choo) is far, FAR beyond my means.  The other, which I won't name in case the proprietors thereof object to my referring to them, is much more reasonable and accessible to the mainstream public.

Let me explain my devotion to the latter...  When I was living in Boston and working at a lovely theater full of lovely people, I had the good fortune to co-teach a class in improvisation.  I was sitting in on the class, preparing to eventually teach the class myself, and I was (as always) astounded by the depth of creativity in the students.  At the end of the class term, one of the students presented all of us with hats from his fledgeling casual clothing company.  He and his brother had recently gotten a contract with their first major distributor and his hopes for future success were high.  I was delighted by the present and charmed by the optimistic mission of my student's clothing line.

As the years ticked by, I saw this student's brand expand.  A hat in midtown Manhattan.  A T-shirt in Wisconsin.  A bumper sticker in Maine.  A backpack in Georgia.  This doggedly positive, relentlessly happy, fantastically upbeat person eventually invaded the national consciousness, his brand a powerful standard for people who believe that the nature of humanity is basically...well, GOOD.  And I was very happy: not only to know someone so successful, but to have been around when his lovely idea caught fire.

I still have the hat he gave me, threadbare as it may be.  Truth be told, I have innumerable products from this man's company.  The reason I continue to buy so many things from this company is because of a number of reasons.  One: I'd like to be the kind of optimist that my former student is...I'd like that very much.  Two: I believe in personal loyalty.  Three: The battered, beat-up baseball hat reminds me of the first time I discovered something I loved...teaching.  I may not be the world's best improv teacher, but I am very, very good.  Moreover, I have found that one of my greatest joys in life is watching a student exceed their own expectations.  I love being present in that moment when someone realizes they can do something they thought previously impossible.  This particular student's class was one of the first I ever had any responsibility of teaching and I was thrilled and delighted every day I came in to work with them.  Some months after receiving the hat and after this particular student left our training center to take care of his burgeoning business, I was fortunate enough to direct that group of students in their graduation show.  

Loyalty.  Optimism.  Devotion.  Learning from others.  Let's get on it, shall we?