Running In Circles

Self-Doubt, Legacy and Running Metaphors

Be careful what you ask for.

Days after our first show, it’s still hard to really appreciate the moment. We had been agonizing over the relaunch for so long that when it finally happened, it all felt a bit anticlimactic. We dreamt the show so clearly in our minds that it felt like we had done it before. There was an eerie sense of calm. Not to say we were overconfident, in fact the entire time leading up to fashion week we were so relaxed that the lack of nerves was actually the only thing making us uneasy. But there was something different this time around. Maxwell and I had committed to coming back on our terms. No expectations to meet aside from our own.

Someone told me, “Your confidence exists because of all the reps you’ve put in, much like muscle memory.Having run a few marathons I used this saying often during the process: “Hit your times.” The idea comes from training to run at a specific pace, and when it all comes down to race time, all you need to worry about is to just hit your times and the rest will figure itself out. In many ways the show felt like that. We had a specific goal in mind — relaying the brand DNA clearly and concisely. We talked a lot about intentionality. Pouring a foundation for longevity. Being a resource for men. Reinforcing the sophisticated ease blueprint we had established over a decade ago. No tricks. No stunts. No hooks. Just great product for the guys we know. And make it feel desirable, urgent and expensive.

That plan seeped through to every touch point. The venue. The styling. Fabric selection. Casting. Everything had to be rooted in the now. Being able to open the show with my oldest son, Idriys, was a dream of mine. He was not only on the runway but also contributed in many meaningful ways, including offering a crucial point of view on the styling and show music. I also tasked my youngest son, Azlan (who recently started making music), with scoring a song for the runway. While it didn’t make the cut, having him and the rest of my family invested in our return, the concept and execution was the ultimate win. A major reason we decided to come back was to build PS into something we could eventually hand off to the next generation. Even if no one showed up for the show, it was easily the single proudest moment I’d ever experienced.

I guess the only time when it hit me was when we arrived at the venue on the day. We planned to film the dress rehearsal as part of the final edit (so we could get shots without people’s feet and phones in the mix). Call time was 5 hours before show time, and being inside the venue that early—exploring, listening to the show music over the gallery’s booming system—was when things got emotional. Billy Joel’s “New York State of Mind” was our opening song, which always reminds me of my dad, whom we lost this past summer. I don’t think I really ever fully grieved after he passed because of how busy things had started to get. I knew he loved coming to our shows. I wished that he could’ve seen it. The show notes included a tribute to him. When we won our first CFDA Award, he told me, “Look up; you need to hold your head up and show the world your light.”“

And just like that, 5 months of design, development and eye-opening self realizations wrapped up in 9 minutes and 43 seconds. It was a relief to get that first collection out. We had so many ideas and things we wanted to try, but the thing I’m most proud of, is the restraint to edit it all down into one clear message. We hit our times.

The most frequently asked question we got asked afterwards was “so what’s next?” For us it’s about honing in on our message and continuing to refine the process. It’s about creating the world around the clothes and welcoming a new generation of Public School New Yorkers into the fold. The genie is out of the bottle now, there’s no putting it back. All gas, no breaks.

-Dao-Yi

What’s Next? I’m not even sure what I feel now.

Usually, this day is a blur, almost a dream state, but on show day, everything moved in real time. Being very present almost felt wrong. I’m looking for a profound emotion to anchor me, but it hasn’t arrived. Why isn’t this a blur? Why do I feel so unnervingly awake? It’s a restless energy, the kind that makes you want to walk until your shoes wear out because sitting still feels like a confession of self-doubt.

I thought about the people who have been on this journey with us since the birth of Public School. I’ve spent so many years under the delusion that only a few of us were on the ride. I was wrong. My family and friends have been with us—not just the immediate ones, but all of them—breathing the same dust, even when I wasn’t looking. I never sat back to thank them because I assumed they just knew.

As I looked at the calendar, a map of deadlines forced me to skip weddings, birthday celebrations, and hangouts at the hospital with my auntie... I felt selfish. When I voiced that, they all assured me that we had to keep going and not worry about anything else; they would handle it. I realized they were the ones keeping the engine running while I was staring at the horizon. We told a story on that runway, but they were the ink. If that even makes sense.

The most striking moment didn’t happen in the clothes; it happened in the mirror of time. Seeing Dao’s son, who is now the same age I was when we first birthed Public School, was a jolt. I’ve known Dao for a little over twenty years. To see Idryis, Dao’s son, fully coming into his own... I had known him as the shy, soft spoken kid. A man commanded the thirty one boys and everyone backstage to pay attention and gave one of the best pre show speeches I have ever been a part of. Shortly after watching him back every word of that energy by opening the show, it felt like a closing of a circle.

There is a comfort in the timing of it all. Everything was right on time.

Now, I’m just waiting for the feeling to catch up to the fact.

-Maxwell