A very lonely, yet beautiful, Princess wanted so badly to have a child of her own. One day she stumbled across a band of gypsies and somehow absconded with one of their own, either by agreed arrangement or kidnapping (those details remain fuzzy.) Her very own Gypsy princess had been added to her soon to grow royal encampment. Alas, while out traveling the world even princesses must make stops to fuel the royal carriage. During one such stop they happened upon a spaceship making a pit-stop of their own from a distant corner of the Milky Way. Inside this spaceship was a small, Alien boy who crept into the princess’s heart and carriage. The young Gypsy begged and pleaded for months for the carriage to turn around and return the small Alien, but his mischief and laughter soon mesmerized the Gypsy as well. Several years and many adventures later, the trio found themselves a bit peckish and headed for a salad bar, as none of them could ever agree on what to eat. To the Princess’s amazement, inside the large bowl of lettuce was a Baby girl. This Baby cooed at and charmed the happy trio, and so they decided to keep her. After all, no one else had called dibs or anything.
We grew up listening to tales of our existence, how we became members of our own family. Just because we were natural born children to my mother did not mean the three of us needed to arrive under usual circumstances. I was a gypsy, my brother an alien, and my sister arrived via a salad bar. These finely crafted tales evolved slightly over time, mixing with our emerging personalities, giving back-stories to each of our arrivals much more fanciful than the standard “when mommies and daddies love each other very much…” variations. For when my mother was a child, I have no doubt she imagined such possibilities for her own creation story. No, her own stories were probably much more creative, vivid, and unlikely. This imaginative soul of my mother’s has always inspired others to envision, dream, and wish for alternate creative paths.
When naming my own small business, how could I not incorporate some of the folklore that made me who I am? These stories upset me terribly as a young girl, not wanting to be anything but my mother’s daughter, but now they’re part of our family history and personality. Embracing the inner Gypsy my mother knew me to be… I give you Gypsy Thread – a collection of creations, no two quite alike, and compiled from years of wandering, searching for my own stories.