döz; the beginning

I feel like get to know you’s or “our story” pages are awkward on-line. Maybe because they are one sided? You get to know me but I don’t get to know you. 

Maybe I feel strange because sharing about me in real life always feels unpredictable. The person asking about me doesn’t intend for the questions to be loaded, but I make it loaded. 

What do I share? Do I glance over pleasantries and share candidly? Do I share the standard and risk being perceived as standard? Do I overthink the question and then respond slowly and elevate the awkwardness of the situation? Yep, the last one sounds about right.

But I love to hear about others. And let me tell you, I go from pleasantries to the existential faster than a toddler eats skittles. It’s knowing how much I like to hear about others that I share some about me. It’s not comfortable. But too much overthinking gets in the way so I’m going to lead with my heart for a bit.

Döz, before it even had a name, began when I was a newly wed. I have always loved nightgowns. This love formed somewhere in between nostalgia and comfort.  My grandma’s nightgowns were always so beautiful, with the matching dress and robe. They were soft and comfortable and I remember trying them on and feeling fancy. 

Fast forward to my newlywed self. My husband and I were traveling a lot with his family and I wanted a nightgown I felt covered in and was cute. My husband and I were still in the “tap your partner lightly and ask them to roll over when they snore” stage instead of “kicking them until they roll over” stage so I still cared that I looked cute to go to bed. I literally looked everywhere and decided on a nightgown I didn’t think was “that bad”. Side note, if you’re ever deciding whether to purchase something and you use the above logic, you WILL BE SORRY. Live and learn I guess! 

I got home and put my new nightgown on. My new husband tentatively tells me it looks like something his grandma would buy. I counter by saying its cute and questioning his fashion sense. We go to bed. The end.

Fast forward a few weeks when we both went to visit my grandma in a nursing home. We walk in and, I swear, to this day, this image is stamped on my memory, I look to my left and there, in the corner, asleep and in her wheelchair is a woman wearing my nightgown! Insert face palm emoji. 

Not a word was exchanged. Not even eye contact was made. But there was an unspoken decision. The nightgown I owned must go and the nightgown I wanted must be found. Searching for LITERALLY (read lit-ra-lee, any Parks and Rec fans out there?) years to find a nightgown I felt cute, covered and comfortable in, I resorted to designing my own. It has been a labor of love. I truly do love them, and so will you!