Imagine a moving truck—larger than the usual "one old man and a van" truck. Hold on. Pause. Rewind.
The true beginning of this story stretches back years, to a time when an auntie sat quietly in the audience, watching her niece and nephew take the stage at one of our Fashion Runway Production shows. She had heard about the program during family gatherings, but nothing compared to experiencing it firsthand.
One moment stood out to her—a painfully shy young boy, her nephew, stepping onto the runway, frozen in fear yet determined to walk under the glow of the spotlights, hundreds of unfamiliar eyes fixed on him. We always remind our students that the audience is filled with love—family, friends, people rooting for them. But to them, especially in that moment, it can feel like stepping into the unknown, staring into a sea of strangers. Yet, step by step, he walked, his confidence growing with each stride. That night, his aunt saw something shift in him, a new resilience taking root.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago, and I receive a message from an unfamiliar name, attached to a picture of a magnificent wooden table. It was more than just a table—it was a masterpiece. Carved from wood and crafted in Italy nearly a century ago. The tag read 1930. I wouldn’t learn its full history until later, but even at first glance, I knew it held stories within its grain.
The sender wondered if
Columbus Fashion Academy could use such a remarkable piece. Could we? Of course. This was a table meant to create art upon. A place where hands would shape fabric, where young minds would sketch, design, and bring visions to life. I eagerly said yes. Then came the logistics. This table, as magnificent as it was, would never fit in my Honda Pilot.
As she took measurements, I reached out to our online community, seeking a reliable mover. Bootstrapping means every expense is carefully considered. Two names surfaced, and I booked one to pick up the table from a boutique in the
Short North and deliver it to our storage space north of
Upper Arlington.
Curious, I asked my donor how she had heard of us. Her response stunned me.
She had been to our shows—many of them. She named her niece and nephew and recounted the
Columbus Museum of Art showcase last March, where over 500 attendees watched young designers unveil their creations in the largest kids fashion show run in history, 103 models in one run. She had witnessed these kids' growth, their confidence blooming alongside their creativity. She understood our mission deeply—the importance of pre-loved clothing, the power of repurposing, the impact of sustainable fashion. She saw firsthand how we extend the life of garments, keeping them out of landfills and transforming them into something new. And then she shared something that stopped me in my tracks.
This wasn’t just about the table. It was about believing in what we do. She had been listening, absorbing the words I spoke before every show. "Wear what you love," I always say. She had taken those words into her own workplace, sharing them with her customers in her fitting room, training her staff not just in fashion but in confidence. Our work had reached places we had never imagined.
Then, another message: more items had become available—body forms, racks, tables. This time, I knew a larger truck would be needed, so I hired one. Serendipitously, I was able to use the second mover recommended by the community. As I waited in the store for pick-up, I spoke with the staff. They too knew of our program. Some connected with the sustainability aspect, others with the confidence-building, others with the creativity. But they all shared one common sentiment:
I wish this existed when I was a kid.
The donation was so generous that we ran out of space, leading me to rent an additional storage unit. These beautiful tools and resources now sit in the cold, waiting for the day we secure our new space—a day that will be nothing short of magical.
And what makes this story even more incredible? The retailer behind this donation made a conscious choice. Instead of the easy route—disposing of these items, sending them off in bulk to be forgotten—they chose a different path.
They chose to connect. To ensure their items went to people who would cherish them, use them, and breathe new life into them.
They did it quietly, without a press release, without fanfare. Simply because it was the right thing to do.
One day, when our students gather around that century-old table, creating, dreaming, and designing, they won’t just be making fashion. They will be continuing a legacy of generosity, sustainability, creativity and community. And that is a story worth telling.
