You're So Vain

I’m proud.

There. I said it.

Seeing Herschede on the front of the store makes me proud. Seeing it in the design on the back wall makes me proud. Seeing someone wearing one of our shirts makes me proud. And now, seeing my name on the label inside our small collection of private label clothing makes me proud.

It also makes me a little uncomfortable.

Apparently, I can put my name on a building more easily than I can explain how I feel about it.

That name represents a lot of effort. It represents a dream that I finally decided to pursue. And it represents the people who have championed me through this journey, including plenty who were doing that long before there was a store to champion.

I see my name, but I think about Molly. My family. My friends. The people who believed in this idea, invested in it, worked alongside me and walked through the door. People who encouraged me when this was still something I was talking about, and people who have given me reasons to keep going since.

There is a lot wrapped up in those nine letters.

So why does enjoying the sight of them feel complicated?

I’ve generally shied away from grabbing a microphone and announcing, “Look at me.”

Although “generally” is doing some work in that sentence. Anyone who knew me in high school or college is welcome to keep their supporting evidence to themselves.

I like recognition. I’m not going to pretend otherwise. It feels good when someone notices the effort or appreciates a decision I’ve made. I would like to think that recognition comes from quietly trying to make good decisions, though I haven’t always managed either the quiet part or the good decision part.

What makes me uncomfortable is the possibility of having, as my dad used to say, “an overvalued opinion of myself.”

That phrase has stayed with me. I’m proud of what I’ve built, but I get uneasy when enjoying it starts to feel a little too much like admiring myself. I’m not sure exactly where that line is.

And yet, here I am, standing in a store with my name outside, my name on the wall and my name inside the clothes.

I can appreciate the irony.

I’ve always been comfortable connecting with people from different walks of life. I don’t look up or down at another person. Whatever someone does, whatever they have, I’m interested in meeting them as another human being trying to find their way through life, just as I am.

I care about holding on to that.

Maybe that’s why I’m paying attention to this feeling. I want to enjoy what I’ve built. I want to feel the satisfaction of holding a piece of clothing with my name on the label. I also want to stay curious about the person wearing it.

I’m still processing all of this. I don’t have a particularly elegant conclusion about pride or humility, and writing a whole piece about whether I’m humble probably isn’t helping my case.

But when I look at that label, I think about how much had to happen for it to exist. The work. The decisions. The encouragement. The people.

And I’m proud.

-E