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1/20/2017

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.Well, it's been a while, hasn't it?  

Some of you may have noticed an extended quietness in the Land of Imp & Petal over the last several months. Aside from a few little bursts (namely the brand ambassador search we had going a while back,) I've been largely unengaged. While I have spent countless hours beating myself up for it, I won't apologize. I've needed this time, for a lot of reasons.  Y'all know I'm basically the reigning Queen of extreme wordiness, so I'll go ahead and warn you now: I'm not editing this. I'm just rambling, catching you up, letting you know what I've been up to and where this path is headed. It won't be full of shiny graphics or bullet points. Just me. Just words. 

For those of you rolling your eyes and groaning right now, I'll summarize real quick so you can get on with your lives:  I'm ultimately fine, and Imp & Petal is here to stay, in whatever form it may evolve into. :) 
 
"But Kristina," you ask, "Where have you BEEN?!" 
Yes, well. There are a handful of mundane things I could spout off here; Familytime... volunteer work... medical issues, deaths in the family... but at the end of the day the real reason is that I haven't had the energy. The political climates both in general and surrounding the dread communities have simply been bogging me down. I know that a lot of you turn to me for my thoughts when things get messy, and I do feel as though I have let you down to some extent but honestly, I have had so much trouble nailing down both the words and the energy to express them. So much anger. So much sadness. Mind-bending frustration.  It's all such a mess, and it is weighing heavily on me. 

The tension. The tension that this very thing that I have built my business around and through which my artistry has evolved, the tension it has created in the fashion world is disheartening, and complex, and worthy of it's very own blog. I'm not there yet.  I'm still processing my feelings. I'm still trying to listen, and learn. I can say, with absolute conviction, that it is not an issue to be taken lightly or to be brushed aside, for that is the very inherent nature of the problem. I will, however, and perhaps to the chagrin of some of you, say that there are larger issues at the moment that require our attention, our diligence and our voices. Root causes and bigger threats.  We all need to pull our beautiful hair back, roll up our sleeves and focus on protecting the idea of basic rights for ALL OF HUMANKIND.  

I also deeply love, and depend (financially and emotionally) on what I do. Perhaps that makes me a selfish person. I'll own that. I'll never stop reassessing. I will continue to make and sell my art in the form of dreads until I no longer find that it fits for me. I will create for and with all peoples for whom my work appeals, and with the hope that they will go forth respectfully and that they are treated with the same respect they offer out. I aim only to help people feel beautiful. Feel confident. 

I will focus on representation, while knowing that it isn't enough.

I will use my voice, the voice of an olive-skinned, adopted woman of mixed race and lost culture who has most certainly benefitted from the White Privilege machine. I will use it to stand up for the marginalized, the forgotten, the frightened, the beautiful. I welcome the conversation. I recognize that because of my geographical location, despite my many struggles, I was still born with a louder voice and a softer safety net than so very many. I am willing to stand in the street on your behalf, if you want me to. I am willing to call  our congressmen on your behalf, if you want me to. I am willing to amplify your voices so that you don't have to consistently listen to someone else speaking for you, if you want me to.  Just message me. I'll listen. I will do my best to understand. I am here for you. 

I am scared for you. 

I am scared for our earth. 

I love what I do but every time I pick up that plastic fiber and work it gleefully in my hands I feel distinct pangs of guilt. The manufacturing of synthetic hair contributes significantly  to air and water pollution. Each bundle is wrapped in the kinds of plastic-coated cardboard and the specific grades of plastic packaging that cannot be efficiently recycled. I make enormous efforts to reuse as much as I can, but it still weighs on me. 

So those of you who are still with me, I need you. I need you to help me boost attention to my wool dreads so that I can move in the direction of a more sustainable fiber. I need you to help me boost attention to my other artistic explorations, so that I may grow, and learn, and create for more than just a small group of people. I need you to help me keep my eyes open, help me pay attention and take care of these precious gifts of humanity and nature. I need you to truly appreciate art and music. Your support is vital. We artists and musicians need you, for our very survival is also at stake. 


I am not perfect, maybe not even close. But I am trying. I see you.  You matter to me. Please be gentle on me. Gentle on each other. I believe Love Wins. Please keep reminding me of that. Remind yourselves. Remind one another. Remind the world. 


Until I officially get my ass back into an upswing, thank you for reading. Thank you for your continued support after all these years.  All my best. 

Kristina








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10 Things you (never) wanted to know about me

12/11/2014

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Recently I've been putting out a lot of social media prompts inviting you all to introduce yourselves a little to me and to each other, and it's been really gratifying. So many names I've seen pop up over the years are finally getting little tidbits of information attached to them, and I feel like some of you are starting to build friendships with one another, or at best that little red flag of recognition is there when you happen to meet in other communities. Social media is pretty awesome like that.  Community is rad!
So, in light of this recent call for connected-ness (and thanks to a prompt from the ever supportive Robin Waters of Peacock Dreams), this blog is going to detail some random facts about your very own Wizard Behind the Curtain:  Kristina Smith of Imp and Petal Dreads & Accessories.  Feel free to skim over the things that might interest you and leave the rest, it got a little lengthy! <3



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It's pretty darn common in the handmade world for small businesses (especially online) to come second to a "day job". Well, my "day job" is actually a night job, and it happens to take a back burner to this here wacky world of whimsical delights. A few times a month I head into a salon downtown at which I cut, color and install extensions into clients' hair.  While I really enjoy that part of my job, I put the majority of my efforts into creating my form of art here in the home studio and maintaining the business online. The amount of hours I work unpaid is immense.  All of my marketing, web design and maintenance, email-answering, design consulting, social networking, etc. is done by me, personally, and off the clock. During studio hours (of which I typically get between 5 - 25 hours per week), I am working mostly on creations, and usually on dreads.  Any profit from my designs goes directly into our rent and my student loan from cosmetology school. There is rarely anything left after that, but when there is, it always goes back into the business for things like business cards, printer ink, a new steamer after I've violently run mine right into the ground, or materials to work on pre-made designs or new prototypes. 

Getting lost in that world of color and texture is my ultimate happy place. Music blaring, rainbows swirling, ideas burning holes in my brain...  that's my everything.  That's why I go through life with decade old underwear. I'm not even kidding. I totally wish I was kidding! 

My ultimate goal for Imp And Petal is to put enough in, and build it up to the point where I can give another creative wonderful person or two a job working with me, and being able to add more readily available merchandise to adorn the bodies and hearts and souls of all these amazing people that keep coming back to tell me how I've helped them to find themselves somehow. Helped them to feel empowered, beautiful, strong. I want to do that for every single person that would like me to, forever. I want to be able to hold HUGE charity events. Offer pay-what-you-can dread sets every once in a while. Spread my art and my love as far as it will possibly go. 

You know, typical stuff.  


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No, guys, seriously. It's like... really bad. 
But it doesn't matter at all, because I am absolutely CRAZY IN LOVE with it. I don't know if I have loved any hobby this much ever.  Why my mother didn't shove one of these magical four-stringed wood and plastic contraptions into my hands when I was 14 and horrified and angsty and miserable and said, "Hey, kid, take this and go work some shit out" I will NEVER UNDERSTAND.  I mean I guess she tried, with a piano. It isn't the same. (I still love you, Mom). 
A few weeks ago, I managed to have the honor of handing my shitty little Makala Dolphin over to probably the only famous person I have ever felt even close to calling my hero; the woman for whom I owe my nerve to pick the thing up in the first place; and asking her to sign it. That was the best night ever.  I probably wouldn't have had the courage to do it at all if it weren't for Whitney over at DarcRainbow.com. She said if I didn't take it and hand it over in the signing line, she would intentionally neglect to  learn to play the mini accordion she has.  I expect all of you to assist me in making her follow through on that promise.  Maybe one day we'll do a little US road-tripping tour, installing dreads, doing private dreadmaking lessons and playing really bad music for people we love in living rooms across the country. ;)
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My signed Uke and copy of The Art of Asking, by Amanda Palmer. I recommend one of each.

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If there is any way to make me love you instantly, it is with a bath bomb extended in my direction. "Please, go peacefully enjoy this magical experience." Yup, a bath bomb for sure.  Or a bubble bar. Or a massage bar. Or a shampoo bar. Or perfume stick. Or face scrub. Or... or.. or... 

Seriously though, never in my life have I been so madly in love with a product line. I would marry LUSH. For real. 
(That ain't no affiliate link yo, I just really love Lush, dammit). 

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Some of you probably know this already, but I'm married to a blacksmith (Day Job: Produce manager at our local grocery) and we have a little boy, Lo, who is two parts terror and one part perfection.  I'm allowed to say that. I'm his mom.  
He's 3. Sometimes he says really hilarious stuff which I try to keep a running tab of via twitter. Most of the time I want to lock him in the basement. I'm stopped of course by the fact that we don't have a basement. There are days, though, when I'm pretty sure I just want to go ahead and make one to put him in. Dig it out. With my bare hands. 

What you should be taking away from this is that I hate every three year old in existence. Don't get yours near me, thanks, I have had quite enough. Also, the next time you're quick to judge some lady that looks like she hasn't showered in days, shaved in months, has a coffee stain running right over her left tit, a twitching eye, and is trying like hell to reason with a young child with absolutely no patience in the world remaining, you should switch off the judgeblinders and go offer her a (very large) cup of coffee and a kind word. 

(Seriously though, I love my kid. Mostly. Ask me again in about 6 months).


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This one's hard to write about. I am undiagnosed. I can't even bring myself to see a specialist.  #1, because phones freak me out.  Driving there, if I don't specifically already know the route to get there, freaks me out. Walking into an unfamiliar office, really freaks me out. Having to talk to anyone other than those I have talked myself into talking to (ie: receptionist, doctor) totally freaks me out. How much it will cost sends me over the edge.  

We're getting invited to children's birthday parties now, (which are hell for anyone, anxiety or not... unless I throw them, in which case fun is had by all and I'm not even sorry for bragging about it) and just... God help me. 

Anti-anxiety medications are always bound together with depression medications... and while I also struggle with depression, much of it stems from my problems with anxiety. I don't really fancy the thought of tackling them in reverse order. Also, I don't want to mess with my creativity.

 So this is all a battle I am smack in the middle of and scared, all the time. Not sure where that's headed. For now, as long as I can make beautiful things, I'm okay. 



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It took a crafty writer to pull me away from Chuck Palahniuk, but over a decade ago when I was 21 and miserable, cleaning rich people's ridiculously large houses for a living, I stumbled upon Coraline as I was putting away the children's monstrous mess of toys. The cover was haunting. I cracked it open. I couldn't stop reading. (I was let go not long after... whether it was related I will never know). Henceforth every time I picked up anything of Neil's, I was his, completely. I haven't read it all. I have to pace myself.  I have to save the sweet nectar of fresh, delicately balanced fantasy horror to last me as long as possible. My favorites so far though, if you happen to be curious, are Neverwhere, Blueberry Girl, and two short stories; My Last Landlady and October In The Chair. 

If there were ever a mind I would like to crawl inside and find a safe place to peer out at the scenery for a while, it would be his. 
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For Gaiman's Blueberry Girl, Illustrated by Charles Vess

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My strongest asset in my writing is my ability to be descriptive. I loooove reviewing things. To the point it's like a weird guilty pleasure. I savor that moment of going online to give my new mascara a thorough review like it's a piece of pie I'm waiting until after both a workout and getting all the house cleaning done, to devour in sweet sweet bliss. 

It's possibly a little unhealthy. 

So, if anyone has anything they'd like a detailed and brutally honest review on, get in touch!?  >.<

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Speaking of writing... 
Someday I want to write horrible YA Novels. You know, the ones that are so bad they're great.  and possibly trash airport romance, as well. Because, satire! Maybe something real. Maybe. 


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I was fortunate enough to escape the worst of things. I had a mouth on me, and was tall. Stronger at a younger age. I scowled a lot. I guess that kept me out of trouble. I caught a few rocks, mostly a lot of sodas. (Which, even at 30 miles per hour is not exactly a laughing matter). Mostly my heart was broken. The worst of it wasn't the kids hating other kids because they were different. It was the adults, the teachers, the administrations that told us to just STOP BEING DIFFERENT. 


"You are better than this, Kristy. We know you can try harder." "You'll never get a boyfriend looking like that." "Why do you wear all that black around your eyes? No one will take you seriously." "No one will hire you looking like that." 
All those cliche movie lines, I heard them all, in real time, directed at me in utter condescension.
"You'll never make a living out of a ridiculous fad hairstyle." 

Yeah?

Watch me. 

"Scrubs" They used to call us. "Park rats". All the kids who were odd, in ripped jeans stitched back together with rows of safety pins, smoking cigarettes out on Morse Street between classes. Girls like me with mosaics of marker doodled over the knees of our jeans. Creatives. Outspoken kids. Sad kids and Scared kids. Loud kids. The beauty standard broken. 

The sporty upperclassmen would roll by in truckloads, all piled in the bed of a Ford so big you wondered what it was compensating for. They yelled threats. Threw rocks. Sodas. Worse. Ambushed the boys and took turns taking punches. Assaulted the girls with words or hands. Or worse. For no reason other than how we looked. 
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This requires no explanation. 

So in closing, thank you. You all give me a reason to keep going, keep creating. You fulfill my needs on so many levels, and I truly hope all of you hear me say that. Whether you've placed an order with me in the past or not, just by being here, to share a tiny sliver of your lives. Your support means everything to me. I love you. 
Thank you. 
Thank you.
Thank you. 

Now, for a bonus round, 

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I know it well, apparently. 

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♥ Kristina
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    About the Author

    Kristina Smith is the owner and primary operator of Imp And Petal. She and her family live in the beautiful Southern Oregon mountains, trying to make the world a better, more interesting place through their imaginative art and other creations. 

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