In my teens, I would spend many weekend hours sewing and creating for myself, my family and friends. I loved to do it; it fed my imagination and my sense of accomplishment. I recall one Christmas deciding to make a garment for my boyfriend. When I finished, I noticed a hole in the material, and spent the next 4 days meticulously creating a patch that became an art statement. That was a cherished moment for me: I’d elegantly solved a problem, and nobody but me knew it had ever been a problem.

For me, that’s perfection.