I didn’t set out to be a mask maker; I was called into action by a pandemic.
Yes, I could have sat home, in my “shelter-in-place” mandate, reveling in pajamas all day, opting for zoom-style happy hours and adapting to a pseudo work/vacay kind of existence of online conference calls while the dog is barking in the background. Riding it out like everyone else. “Stay the F Home” isn’t that the quote du jour? Yet something was irking me, tugging at my self absorption like the petty, inconsequential existence that it is. It was my probity, and it wasn’t going to be quelled. You see, I’m in a business that deals with a lot of something that is suddenly valuable: fabric. A behemoth of beautiful fabrics for interior design, upholstery, drapery, luxury pillows, you know,…all that non-essential stuff.
As if by premonition , I decided all this non-essential stuff should be put towards a more noble cause: Covid-19 masks. The coveted stash was certainly there: lush Christian Lacroix prints, Schumacher, Missoni Home, Gucci; Kravat, all of it perfectly suited to making masks. Little did I know what was to become of it when announcing on social media that I was to do my best to contribute towards flattening the curve with a designer mask.
People went nuts,
Some, for the right reasons. Some, for the wrong..
Wanting to help has been both fulfilling and infuriating. Reality slammed itself hard against my door of good intentions. A mass of desperation, hope and anxiety stampeded its way into my messages and inboxes. I was unprepared.
Instagram is where the biggest deluge happens. My DM box fills with requests far and wide: stories ranging from those with immunodeficiencies, to at risk essential workers, caregivers and fashionistas who feel they could “ROCK that designer look” with their outfits as they bandied about town. People asking for 1, 2, 10, 300 masks at a time. I simply can’t deliver that much stock. It certainly doesn’t help the empathy quotient when one has to turn away people in need because of an inability to produce in large amounts. It weighs upon my mind more than it should.
All this is accomplished in my downtime. Breaking it down, it takes about 6 minutes to make a mask now that I have a system in place. Cutting to size, layering, sewing, clipping corners before turning inside out, Pressing with an iron, topstitching. Thanks mom, for teaching me how to sew. Who knew it would come in handy in such a distinct way? Do the numbers and that comes to 10 masks per hour. That’s not a lot considering the need outstrips the production.I have a new found respect for the unsung factory worker. Hours are spent, only to see masks disappear in a flash. I run out of supplies; go to Target to gather more shoelaces. Shoelaces? Yes, because they are readily available more than elastic. The fabric stores are closed that sell elastic. Buying online means I have to wait for the package. In the spirit of go-with-what-ya-got inventiveness, I use cambric: a fabric meant for dust cover use underneath sofas and chairs as the filter to replace the CDC recommended N95 version. Paper clips become the novel flex-form piece to make the mask fit snug over the bridge of the nose. It’s all ragmatag, DIY-esque, crude, but it works. Only the glittering fabric deceives.
After making a batch, with rocket speed I message people letting them know their masks are ready and a new barrage of questions spearhead towards me: When can you deliver? Will they fit? What colors do you have? Can you send to Canada? Can I pay? ( My masks are free. A moral choice to not profit from a pandemic )
Like a robot, I give an automated response:“You can pick up your mask at my shop. I will have them inside an envelope with your name on it taped outside my back door.” “I am not charging for the masks, but if you want to contribute, you can do so by Venmo. I appreciate your support.”
I then get to stuffing masks into envelopes taking care not to lick the adhesive on the back, rather taping it shut instead. I don’t want to transfer any germs even though I am healthy. Pandemics force thoughts heretofore unfathomable.
The new regimen is chock full of surrealism as I tape a multitude of envelopes daily onto the back door. It feels cold, distant. To not warmly meet people face to face but give them a life saving mask through a closed door. Those I have met face to face have been impactful. One woman cried tears of angst and appreciation. Another exhaled in relief from the terror happening in her mind. A paramedic asked me what I would have done with the fabric. I told him the unadorned truth:
“I normally would use these fabrics to make luxury pillows I sell through other local shops. I’m not only losing major revenue from it, but now the shops I’ve supported are losing revenue too. I feel I’m being selfish and not fair to them, but I’m just a little guy,…trying to do what’s right.”
I assured him, that this was the better cause, to help others and forgo my own selfish needs. He smiled, noticeably grateful as he went along his way to deliver 8 masks to his team at the hospital. As I watched him, go, I could tell his mind was spinning. I would have given anything to be inside it.
If anything, this virus seems to be forcing us to think beyond our own self-centeredness. Practically screaming at us to do so. Do you think we will? Will we spread kindness like it’s a virus? There’s a new hashtag out. #coronakindness. It seems apropos.
I don’t know about others, but there’s no need to hoard what I have when it could help so many others. Generosity , it is said, doesn’t expect anything in return. If it comes back to me somehow, great. If not, let it be. It’s pretty much how I’ve learned to live my life.
Now Mask up! Be Safe.
