style [stahyl] –noun
1. a particular, distinctive, or characteristic mode of action or manner of acting.
2. a mode of fashion, as in dress, esp. good or approved fashion; elegance; smartness.
3. a particular, distinctive, or characteristic mode or form of construction or execution in any art or work.

The question people ask me the most is where I got my syle from.  Before New York I was always good when it came to design. But after moving here I learned what it takes to have a style….

During my 1st year at the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT), the Fashion Drawing class was the course I was most excited about. A design originates from a sketch, so to me it is the most important element.

When the professor walked into the studio, it erupted with whispers. Standing at the head of the class, with his signature silver pork chop haircut and mustache was Steven Stipelman. World renowned Fashion Illustrator for Women’s Wear Daily (WWD) and many of the great fashion houses including Dior and Chanel….

Steven Stipelman’s 1995 illustration of a 1971 Kleibacker dress

**Sidebar: It’s not a part of my personality at all… but I semi went into groupie mode. I draw, and he is like the Michael Jackson of fashion drawing. Best there is. Clearly at this school you come to play with the Big Boys…lol…**

I was gawking and a little thrown off, because I hadn’t paid attention to my schedule of professors. The book issued for the class was written by him, I just didn’t expect him to teach it. Admiring his work since I was a girl, my goal of the semester was to soak up as much of his talent I could.

Our first in class assignment that day was to draw a rendered figure (Translation: A clothed Woman/Model colored in). This was his way of seeing your artistic skill, and understanding what kind of student he is working with. Professor Stipelman skimmed through the pile of student sketches while the class sat silent staring at him. Halfway through he paused on a drawing and frowned. Snatching the paper into the air he screamed, “Who is Briana!!” The class looked around shifting nervously in their seats. I kind of halfway put my hand up. “Stand up!” Allthough I was hesitant at first, I stood….

**Sidebar: Looking back on that moment I always crack up at the faces of my classmates. Sheer terror. Not for me, but the thought of getting screamed on next. lmao!…**

“What is this?” he shrieked raising my sketch above his head.
A little shaken from the spotlight he had put on me I replied, “My Drawing you asked us to do.”
“What type of draaaaawin’ do you call this?”

**Sidebar: At this point I’m totally confused at why he is fussing and mocking me, when I did what the man assigned. I was a New Yorker for only a short time. But at that point I was a little annoyed at folks constantly bringing my Southern accent to attention….**

Wide eyed and firm I replied, “It’s my ’style’!”
He paused, and looked at me with astonishment. If silence was deadly he would have put me six feet under.
“Your style? Ha ha ha! You don’t have a style! You haven’t accomplished anything to have a style!”

The semester went on as a type of hazing, with similar exchanges. Being singled out and my work called into question became a routine. I was constantly standing at the front of his desk while he picked apart what I thought were my masterpieces. I was selected to represent the school in a Runway competition against rival Parsons School of Design. He had belittled me in front of class for leaving early to go to dress rehearsal. Even though I was awarded permission to leave class early weeks prior. Announcing no one can leave early again, especially for a show I wasn’t going to win anyway. Then before walking out he gave me an impossible assignment to accomplish before the next class in two days. Well…we won, and I delivered the assignment to his office a day early. He never addressed the competition directly, but gave me a “good job” on the project.

A lot of people would become resentful, and even quit. But as much as he pushed me I kept trying. Every assignment he threw at me I attacked head on. Pushing myself to get a smile or approval from him, I never received it. At the end of the year I went home for summer break feeling defeated.

I had a conversation with my parents to expect a less than satisfactory mark in his class. When the grades arrived my nerves were shot. FIT had been a lifelong dream, and the ultimate test of my talent. I sat with my mother who was my biggest encouragement to leave home and pursue this dream. To my astonishment Stipelman, known for grading tough, gave me an A.
When you compare my entry portfolio to my final exam portfolio, it’s obvious what a difference a year made. I owe that to the Professor for seeing something special in me, and pushing me to the limit to bring it out.

FIT Application Portfolio

Even though today I am sometimes misunderstood and referred to as being a ‘bitch’. Please understand the relaxed face and cool demeanor is just focus. Sometimes to accomplish a goal and earn respect you have endure harsh criticism. He prepared me for an extremely judgmental industry.

1st Year Final Exam Portfolios

I am Briana, and this was the birth of my ’style’.

‘Til next time.
Ciao, Ciao.

Recommended Fashion Art read:
Illustrating Fashion: Concept to Creation, 2nd Edition

by Steven Stipelman

List Price: $70.00
Barnes and Nobles