BY REQUEST: Emily's cover letter to the Textile Museum.
Dear Sir or Madam,
My name is Ekrobi (!) and I would love, more than anything in the whole fuckin' world, to work for you at the Textile Museum. Seriously. Dude, if I had the choice between working at the Textile Museum and being sexually serviced by TV's James Van Der Beek every hour on the hour for the rest of my life, I'd totally choose the museum.
I am totally qualified to work at the Textile Museum, bitches. For as long as I have been alive, I've been making my own clothes. And not a day goes by that someone doesn't say, “That is a fabulous frock! Did you make it.” And I reply, “Yes. Yes, I made this frock by myself.” And then I trot off, letting my frock ripple and sway behind me.
“Ripple” and “sway”? Did I really say, ripple and sway? The answer is yes! Because I believe a frock is a frock, it should fit loosely so as to allow proper rippleage. As we speak I am working on a strawberry-patterned frock that I heard someone refer to as a mumu when I was sewing it the other day. And I was all “Hells no, it's not a mumu!” And they were all, “Well it could fit a whale.” And I was all “Haven't you ever heard of swayage?” And they were all, “What are you talking about?”
See? It's not easy being an artist. I think my devotion to this craft is evident in my frocks and if you can't see that, then you can suck it.
Love you,
Ekrobi