M AY Savannah, GA
free!
skirt!is
www.skirt.com
Make a mental map of summer. Mark it with an off-the-grid cabin at the
end of a gravel road. A towel on a beach
without Wi-Fi. The spiral of a labyrinth on
a spiritual journey for one. A souk filled
with spices and silks in a strange city.
Big black sunglasses and strappy sandals on the Isle of Capri.
Hiking boots or horseback into the wild.
Sleeping in a tepee under a full moon.
A zip line into a mountain lake or a
cruise line to the Greek Islands. Retail
safaris and urban camping in a hotel with
24-hour room service. The back of beyond
at Burning Man in the Black Rock Desert.
A windows-down, radio-up roadtrip.
Dare it or dream it, but let your mind wAnder. Cover copy by Nikki Hardin, art by Ashley Barron
“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” Henry miller
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Publisher
Nikki Hardin publisher@skirt.com Art Director
Caitilin McPhillips caitilin.mcphillips@skirt.com National Editor
Margaret Pilarski margaret.pilarski@skirt.com Savannah Editor
Elena Fodera elena.fodera@skirt.com Advertising Director
Jane Townsend jane.townsend@savannahnow.com Sales Executives
Cinda Baker cinda.baker@skirt.com Belinda Draucker belinda.draucker@skirt.com Graphic Designer
Britt Scott britt.scott@skirt.com Intern
skirt! is all about women... their work, play, families, creativity, style, health and wealth, bodies and souls. skirt! is an attitude...spirited, independent, outspoken, serious, playful and irreverent, sometimes controversial, always passionate. Calendar SubmiSSionS Send information elena.fodera@skirt.com, or mail to skirt! Savannah, 1375 Chatham Parkway Savannah, GA 31405
letterS to the editor
WriterS & artiStS
Photography
Our guidelines are available online at skirt.com. Submit artwork or essays via e-mail to submissions@skirt.com.
FAX:
To-Go Issue
All letters must include the writer’s name and city/state.
Emmy Lubitz Paul Goerner Emmy Lubitz Amy Moore Office: 912.525.0740 Sales: 912.525.0740
The
FolloW uS on FaCebook and tWitter! Facebook.com/skirtSavannah Twitter.com/skirtSavannah
912.525.0746
FeatureS
Profile: Heidi Berkely
Fair-Trade Traveler...................................................................... 13 Profile: Cayce Girardeau
In Search of Fun.......................................................................... 14 Profile: Julie Jarrell
Born to Ride ................................................................................. 17 Local Loves .................................................................................18
skirt! is published monthly and distributed free throughout the greater Savannah area. skirt! reserves the right to refuse to sell space for any advertisement the staff deems inappropriate for the publication. Unsolicited manuscripts must be accompanied by a self-addressed, stamped envelope. Letters to the editor are welcome, but may be edited due to space limitations. Press releases must be received by the 1st of the month for the following month’s issue. All content of this magazine, including without limitation the design, advertisements, art, photos and editorial content, as well as the selection, coordination and arrangement thereof, is Copyright © 2012, Morris Publishing Group, LLC. All Rights Reserved. No portion of this magazine may be copied or reprinted without the express written permission of the publisher. SKIRT!® is a registered trademark of Morris Publishing Group, LLC.
Women make more than 80% of all purchasing decisions.
Skirt! Style .................................................................................. 21 Double Decker Dreams
Stacy Appel.................................................................................... 24 To the Other Side Women spend almost 2 of every 3 healthcare dollars.
Women control 2/3 of the nation’s disposable income.
Stephanie Hunt ........................................................................... 26
in every iSSue
Letter from the Publisher/Editor ......................................... 8
Women influence 80% of all car sales.
Calendar .......................................................................................... 23
He’s So Original.......................................................................... 28
Skirt of the Month..................................................................... 30
Meet................................................................................................... 37
Planet Nikki.................................................................................... 38
Illustration by BerinMade Illustrated Paper Goods. berinmade.com
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THE UNITED SKIRTS OF AMERICA
The United Skirts of America was founded on the blood, sweat and estrogen of our foremothers, who won us the freedom to choose...to break The Rules, to wear combat boots or high COVER ARTIST
heels, to run for office
Ashley Barron
or run a marathon,
Ashley is a big fan of paper.
to form our own
She finds it, paints it, prints
rock groups instead
on it, punches it, cuts it out,
of being groupies, to
arranges it and pastes it down
shatter Glass Ceilings
to compose everything from
and Glass Slippers, to
pigeons to postal carriers.
shoot hoops instead
Originally from Whitby,
of settling for hoop
Ontario, Ashley now lives
skirts. The ones who
in Toronto. She graduated
came before us made
from OCAD in 2007 with a
it possible for our
Bachelor of Design and has
daughters to dream
been working as a freelance
bigger, to have the
illustrator ever since.
chance to grow up to
ashleybarron.com
be President and turn
FROM THE PUBLISHER
The
To-Go Issue
Last month, I had the chance to hear Billie Jean King talk about her journey to empower women while she was in Charleston for the Family Circle Cup tennis tournament. I’m the same age as King, and I was just discovering feminism when she defeated Bobby Riggs in one of the greatest moments in sports history—the Battle of the Sexes in 1973. It’s hard to overstate what that moment meant to women then. Ms. Magazine had been launched the year before, and it was a stirring, optimistic time to be a woman simply because change was in the air. All of the restrictive assumptions I grew up with about a woman’s role were being blown apart, and my personal journey was simply a microcosm of the historic one taking place on the national stage. As inspiring as it was to celebrate the journey of the women who revolutionized women’s tennis, I doubt I was the only woman to consider the irony of learning that same week that Augusta National Golf Club had not awarded membership to Virginia Rometty, the first female CEO of IBM, as was customary for the corporate sponsor of the Masters Tournament. Four of Ms. Rometty’s predecessors had been admitted during their tenure with the company, but it was her XX DNA that barred the door this time. It was a reminder that although we’ve come a long way, baby, the journey is far from complete. In Congress, women hold less than 17 percent of the seats—73 of 435 in the House and 17 of 100 in the Senate—and only a tiny percentage of major American corporations have women CEOs. In the future, it will be up to our brave daughters and granddaughters to take a swing at outmoded, exclusionary traditions that are designed to put us back in our place—a place we left behind decades ago.
Nikki
the Oval Office into
publisher@skirt.com
the Ovary Office. In
FROM THE EDITOR
the United Skirts of
When I was a little girl in Spain, my dad would take us on long road trips across the country—
America, every day is
glistening beaches, mountains covered in olive groves, ancient castles—a child’s fantasy. As we drove,
Independence Day! VISIT US ON SKIRT.COM
he’d tell the story of Princess Fatima and her exciting adventures. As she escaped from 40 thieves hiding in rocky caves, swam to deserted islands and picked golden apples from an old wise man’s shoulders, I’d watch the passing landscapes, imagining myself as her. Each trip, I’d beg him to pick up where he left off. I later learned her fabulous story was actually bits and pieces of mythology and folklore, a tale my dad spun right on the spot. But where it came from never mattered; only where it took me. I’ve since wondered what draws us to new places. What is it we seek when we leave the life we’re living? More than new food, new faces, we’re in search of our “true” selves: more relaxed, perhaps more daring, the self we want to see. For me, it’s an adventurous princess: independent, fearless, kind. Where will you discover your Fatima?
1ST CLASS
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Elena
elena.fodera@skirt.com
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Jetsetters
Heidi Berkeley | Fair-Trade Traveler For Heidi Berkeley, traveling is about making connections with the world around you—and not being afraid to step out of your comfort zone. She and husband, Joe, own the fabulously eccentric shop Folklorico. They focus on offering unique, handmade and fair-trade goods from around the globe, spotted and gathered up on their many trips abroad. From Morocco to Thailand, Greece and Turkey to southernmost Mexico, Heidi says sharing experiences with people is the best way to learn about different cultures. “The more places you travel, the more humble you become,” she tells. “By being friendly and curious, you get a real experience of where you are. We were invited into a family’s home for tea in Vietnam. On a train in Morocco, a family invited us into their home for dinner that night; it was a chance to look into their world.” Those interactions, she says, are the greatest treasures. Photo by Amy Moore
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Jetsetters
Cayce Girardeau | In Search of Fun After leaving a corporate job in human resources and twice battling breast cancer, Cayce Girardeau returned to her hometown of Savannah to try something a little different. “People are creative—they have to use it,” says Cayce, owner and inventor of Savannah Fun Tours. “You don’t learn much when people talk at you,” she says. Instead, these unconventional tour guides use original scavenger hunts to challenge players and teach them at the same time. “You read the clue to figure out what you’re looking for,” Cayce explains. “To me, that’s the best way to learn and establish team building at the same time.” Everyone from Girl Scouts to bachelorette parties can customize their hunt to make a tour that’s truly memorable. “You have to have fun. Fast is not part of this game,” Cayce says. In true Savannah style, she reminds visitors from all over to slow down and appreciate life’s lighter side. Photo by Paul Goerner
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Jetsetters
Julie Jarrell | Born to Ride Self-proclaimed pack mom Julie Jarrell is officer for Ladies of Harley Davidson, part of the Savannah HOG Chapter of the National Harley Owners Group. Ever since riding her big brother’s bike in high school, Julie’s love for the road is all about embracing life. She’s organized the chapter’s “Pink Ponytail Rides,” in which female cyclists ride together, and also won their mileage contest, traveling 12,000 miles in 2010. “My dad said to me, ‘You can’t be scared to live, because everybody dies one day. You’ve gotta go on,’ and since then it’s been no holds barred,” she laughs. “I know a lot of people, even my age, who are waiting on something,” says Julie. “No, no, no! Life happens every day! Every morning when you get up.” And what of fearlessness when dealing with her own motorcycle-riding kids and nine grandchildren? “I pray a lot,” she says with a smile. Photo by Emmy Lubitz
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LocalLoves Local Loves Lighten Up
A Paw in Need
After the generosity of friends and neighbors helped save Julie Nickerson’s rescue dog, Jack, she was inspired. Taking on a new calling, she founded Ruff Life. At home on Hilton Head Island, the apparel company donates prof profits toward local shelters and rescue organizations, helping save the lives of animals and brighten the lives of pet owners across the Lowcountry.
These eco-chic soy candles, created by Lowcountry native Natalie Evans and headquartered in Savannah, are made from the finest quality materials and come in a range of Southern-inspired scents like High Cotton, Sea Grass and Spanish Moss. lowcountryluxe.com
Family-owned and operated out of Richmond Hill, Hale Tea Co. offers all-natural and organic teas and infusions from around the world, “infusing the luxury and health benefits of gourmet loose tea into everyday life.” haletea.com
Diaper Bag Couture
SCAD grad and native of Caracas, Venezuela,Vanessa Boulton creates handbags and accessories using her original illustrations, like this Flying South tote. Available at shopSCAD or vanessaboulton.com.
Photo by Dennis Burnett.
To visit the store or make a donation to Ruff Life Charities, visit rufflife.org.
Southern Special-tea
Ashley Newsome’s eco-conscious aesthetic lends itself to everything she creates in her studio and shop, Haberdashery Eco Fashion Supply. With a love for vintage,recycled and all-natural fabrics,Ashley ensures that each of her pieces is as sustainable as it is luxurious.Featuring unique patterns and handmade details,her boho-chic fashions evoke the class and Southern charm of Savannah with a fresh twist. For in-stock items,recent creations, news and workshops,visit habsav.com or 311W. Broughton St.
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Sandfly Isle of Hope
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AS SEEN IN
SKIRT! STYLE MAY
Well-Traveled Clockwise from top left: Coral cabochon earrings from Banana Republic, Green with Envy necklace from Trunk 13, citrine cocktail ring by Z�A, silk button-down blouse by Ashley Newsome at Haberdashery Eco Fashion Supply, geometric-pattern dress and mint green belt from Fab’rik, Rodin lip balm and Glo eye shadow from See Jane, Sam Edelman sandals from Globe Shoe Company, Tory Burch handbag from BleuBelle Boutique.
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Illustration Illustrationby byMonkey MonkeyMind MindDesign, Design,Unique UniquePaper PaperExpressions. Expressions.monkeymindesign.etsy.com monkeymindesign.etsy.com
M AY
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Join skirt! Savannah staff, readers and special guests for drinks and more at our May release party! 6-8pm at bar • food. 4523 Habersham St. facebook.com/skirtsavannahHHI
Put on your cutest swimsuit and forget the towels for this wet-and-wild annual tradition—Tybee’s annual Beach Bum Parade. 6pm. Butler Ave. on Tybee Island. tybeevisit.com
Get your tickets early for SCAD’s Fashion Show, featuring some of the country’s most talented designers and student models in a runway show. 4 and 8pm. scad.edu/experience/events
3 open book
5 helping hands
10 opening reception
13 mom rocks
4 run for it
5 beach it
12 girls ON THE RUN
14-17 fashion frenzy
5 pipe down
12 be more
19 finishing touch
Savannah Book Festival presents a luncheon with New York Times bestseller and Pulitzer Prize-winning author Geraldine Brooks. The Plantation Club at the Landings. savannahbookfestival.org Join Chatham County’s Relay for Life to fight back against the disease. 7pm-7am. Benedictine Military School. relayforlife.org
Rebuilding Together Savannah’s Spring Rebuild is today. To volunteer or donate towards a newly repaired home for someone in need, visit rebuildingtogethersavannah.org. Paint Tybee Pink 5k & 10k beachside walk benefits LibLines Breast Cancer Fund at the Anderson Cancer Institute of Memorial University Medical Center. paintgeorgiapink.org
Hospice Savannah’s art show, featuring works by Karin Mead Phyllis Limbacher Tildes, benefits the pediatric hospice program. Reception 5:30-7:30pm. hospicesavannah.org The Happiest Run Around! GOTR 5k Celebration Run prepares girls for a lifetime of healthy living. Registration 7am/Race 8:30am. SSU Wright Stadium. girlsontherun-ga.org.
It’s Mother’s Day! Show your mom how much you care: don’t just call, do something special to make her feel like the awesome woman she is. Who deserves it more than her? Savannah Fashion Week is back for another year of exclusive events, designer discounts, fashion shows and more benefiting Savannah’s SAFE Shelter. savannahfashionweek.org
4 dig in
Watch SCAD students and alumni compete to win prizes for design in amazing sand sculptures at the Sand Arts Festival. 10am-4pm. Tybee Island’s North Beach. scad.edu/sandarts
The 36th Annual Scottish Games celebrates with competitions, dancing, and our fave—men in skirts! Kidding. They’re kilts. Bethesda Academy. 9am-5pm. savannahscottishgames.com
Teatime Stories is for women who strive to "Live More, Be More, in Purpose." Speaker Emra Smith will present a motivational lecture. 1-5pm. $30. Westin Savannah Harbor.
Savannah Philharmonic concludes the season with an awe-inspiring finale. 7:30pm. $16-55. Lucas Theatre. savannahphilharmonic.org
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Just my cup o’ tea.
W
Stacy Appel
hen I was young, I longed to be British, unaware that no amount of practice could effect a transformation. I perched on the crimson carpeted staircase halfway between our home’s upstairs and downstairs—accidentally predating the Masterpiece Theater series of that name by many years—where I read A.A. Milne poems aloud in an English accent while my all-too-American family members stepped around me. My role model at the time was the enchanting child actress Hayley Mills. Londonborn and bred, she rose to fame after being discovered by the wife of Walt Disney and cast in popular films. Hayley was everything to me: heroic, deeply feeling, poised, thoughtful. She was ever-so-cheerful, even when, in the movie Pollyanna, she tragically lost the use of her legs falling out of a tree, all in an effort to avoid the critical notice of her rich, controlling Aunt Polly. Hayley had a musical, spontaneous laugh. She could blink back tears with the bravest. Her upperclass accent hinted of afternoon teacakes in manicured gardens, and I loved the wonderful way she bit her lip and furrowed her brow when she was thinking hard. “You look and sound like a complete dork,” said my older brother definitively, watching me attempt the accent and the lip-bite/brow-furrow at the family dinner table. “More than usual, even.” I read and re-read A Little Princess and The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett, thrilled by the way the English heroines triumphed over adversity. Plus, they had nannies and ayahs and school headmistresses. I had only a boring American babysitter named Joan who put her sock-clad feet up on the coffee table and read Seventeen magazine all night, preferable to conversing with me no matter what accent I employed. “Cheerio, Joan,” I said, waving her off, Hayley style, on one of her many voyages to the kitchen. “It’s been grand, really it has.” “Like I told you: You are so definitely a dork,” said my brother. My mother’s great-aunt actually was British; it’s possible my fixation with all things English was already lodged in my DNA, one proper little pair of chromosomes clad in hats, gloves and sensible shoes. I never had the chance to meet Great-Aunt Millie, but the wooden server in our dining room held the handme-down fish forks, silver and linens she’d bequeathed, as well as old photos of croquet parties on English lawns, testament to a more refined life than the one my parents managed. My mother invoked her British relative’s manners regularly, as if by removing a wayward ketchup bottle from the table (“Millie would have been appalled!”) or using the proper small flat knife for butter, we might sashay a millimeter closer to the monarchy ourselves. I had a headful of nonsense about Great Britain by the time I actually set foot on English soil. As a high school student traveling with my peers and a couple of school chaperones, I was so thrilled by our adventure that if I’d spotted a sign inside Heathrow airport pointing the way to Narnia or Fairyland or high tea or even just
“Frocks,” I would have been delighted and not even surprised. The real England was satisfying enough, if decidedly down to earth. We rode double-decker buses, saw a Shakespeare play in Stratford-upon-Avon, got sloshed in an English pub when the chaperones were off shopping, strolled Kew Gardens and watched pigeons crisscross Trafalgar Square. I loved the bellhops in our third-rate hotel, who talked to me in what they hoped were Southern accents and tried to teach me Cockney rhyming slang. But nowhere to be found was the magical country I’d had in my head for so long, inhabited by Mary Poppins and Beatrix Potter, Jane Austen and Christopher Robin. British food, much like the citizens, seemed neither very good nor very bad. No heavenly puddings or horrible porridge, as in the books I’d read, just soup and fish and morning buns, or greasy chips wrapped in newspaper. Many years later, I really did find the London of my dreams. As luck would have it, it happened in San Francisco. The Great Dickens Christmas Fair and Victorian Holiday Party meant that the country that had long resided in my imagination sprang to life for a few short weeks, complete with chimney sweeps, ladies in hoop skirts and gents in top hats, and the sweet scent of vanilla and roasted chestnuts perfuming the air. Inside an enormous building, shops and streets were built and filled with game parlors, photos, and antique furniture. Sailors sang sea shanties dockside while carolers roamed the alleyways under a mantle of paper snow. Telegrams were hastily delivered to apothecaries and book stalls, delicious rum cakes and meat pies were nibbled in emporiums, marvelous conversations took place inside the Victorian Adventurers’ club. As Madame L’Etoile, an East End cook’s assistant posing as a French spiritualist, I welcomed people into the parlor I’d built and decorated, and wobbled all day between intentionally bad French and broad Cockney slang, in any way I pleased, while offering advice and mystical readings. Just my cup o’ tea. On the last weekend of the last year I worked the Dickens Fair, a well-dressed couple stopped into my booth. “’Ello, luvs,” I said. “Care for a readin’ and a nice sit by the fire for a bit?” I patted the pillow-adorned chaise, and they settled themselves comfortably. They chatted with me in true Dickens Fair spirit, even though they weren’t in costume; I loved the way they were pretending to be upper-class Brits inquiring about their futures. My version of a Cockney accent grew broader and more outlandish as I told their fortunes and they continued to play along. “Ever so nice to meet you, guvs,” I said at the end of the reading. “And may I say, you’ve ’ad a bit o’ practice in the King’s English? I ain’t never not heard nuffin’ like it.” I winked at the nicely-dressed woman and jabbed the man in the side with my elbow. “Actually, we really are from London,” said the wife. “We’re vacationing here in San Francisco for the week.” Oh, dear. In my mind, I heard my brother say, “You not only sound like a dork, you are a dork.” Yet somehow the couple was smiling at me, and the woman was saying kindly, “You know, your accent wasn’t bad at all. We enjoyed this whole experience. You’ll have to visit England one day.” It’s a grand idea, and I plan to take her up on it, as soon as I figure out which particular country she meant.
Stacy Appel is an award-winning writer in Lafayette, CA, whose work has been featured in the Chicago Tribune and other publications. She has also written for National Public Radio. She is a contributor to the book You Know You’re a Writer When… by Adair Lara. Contact Stacy at WordWork101@aol.com 80 ww 2012 charleston.skirt.com 24 may may 2012savannah www.skirt.com
This was my first Rocky Mountain high, and I felt giddily buzzed, possibly even stoned.
Stephanie Hunt
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To The Other Side
Edith Cavell towered before us. An imposing, icy dame, her face was crevassed by weather and the cruel rutting of time. But boy was she gorgeous. Astonishingly so, with her rugged silhouette and handsome brow outlined by alabaster snow against an azure sky. Mount Edith Cavell was our first of many mountains to summit on a five-day bicycle tour in the Canadian Rockies, and her beauty as much as her sharp incline left me breathless. She rose out of the densely forested landscape with fierce grace and commanding presence, like the Greta Garbo of geological formations—I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. We began Edith’s ascent only an hour or two into our trip. Our small band of merry cyclists—my husband and me, and Darlene, a spunky middle-aged nurse on “holiday” from Australia, led by Peter, the tour company owner and German ex-pat/ former adventure racer, and Dieter, his spry, very German 70-year-old father and possibly the most gentle person I’ve ever met—had rolled out of the small town of Jasper that morning just as a huge elk ambled across the road, on cue, like a photo op staged by some behind-the-scenes Canadian tourism Oz. We were in Jasper National Park, the wildest of Canada’s wilderness parks, an area where bears and mountain goats are as likely to be on the road as bikes and Winnebagos, and the July air was, thankfully, about 40 degrees cooler than the searing heat we’d left behind. I felt frisky and raring to go, which was a good thing—Edith would demand every ounce of that energy. She was nine miles of uphill climb, a vertical DNA strand of merciless switchbacks. As we rounded each curve, Edith’s snow-crowned peak would appear a little closer. My ears popped several times with the 2200-foot elevation gain; my lungs and thighs were screaming, but Edith’s alpine glory was like a siren song propelling me onward and upward. This was my first Rocky Mountain high, and I felt buzzed, possibly even stoned. Mount Edith’s postcard-perfect grandeur was only part of the sensory whirl. There was also the forest scent of Peppermint Patty and the park’s cascading quiet, ruffled only by the rhythm of my heavy breathing and the slow roll of rubber tire on asphalt—all intensified by exercise-induced endorphins rocketing through my veins. Mount Edith Cavell was a steep grade, but it had been an even longer climb to arrive here. We’d actually booked this trip two years earlier, after spending months researching various tour options—ruling out cushy ones with all the bells and whistles and the bottom-barrel ones that were a little too bare-bones, until we finally settled on Peter’s just-right outfit. Then three days before takeoff one of our daughters ended up in the hospital. That extra couple-hundred bucks for trip insurance turned out to be one of my smarter investments. After a brief scare, my daughter was fine, but then, in a very short order, both my parents’ health went careening downhill. Divorced for decades with separate lives in separate states, my mother, newly diagnosed with ALS, and my father, with rapid onset Alzheimer’s, were now, though still estranged, oddly joined, literally, in a very ill fate. For the next year and a half, I became an itinerant mom and traveling daughter, going to doctors’ visits and spending weekends with my mom. My laptop traveled too, and there I’d see the folder titled “bike trip,” where I’d saved our itinerary, reservation confirmation, airport shuttle info, “what to pack” details. I realized that half the pleasure of a vacation is the planning, the anticipation, and the folder contained that latent excitement even as I found myself journeying through this new and unpleasant terrain, on a trip I had not planned, with an empty suitcase and no clue what I should be packing. My mother died seven months after my father passed away, and a month after that, I emailed Peter and asked if there was room on his next Jasper-to-Banff tour, departing in three weeks. “Yes,” he said; we rebooked. Reaching the top of Mount Edith Cavell that first day felt better than anything I’d felt in a long while. The scenery was surreal, the physical work hard and gratifying, the release—a heady rush of grief and joy wound together through two years and nine miles of twisting switchbacks—was immense. At the top we parked the bikes and walked a rocky path to Angel Glacier, a small lake pooled in her lap, huge chunks of ice floated in the ghostly blue water. The surrounding valley was littered with boulders and gravel, refuse left in a glacier’s wake like some giant had come stomping through, which I suppose it had. This was a hard geography—ice and rock and altitude—and yet its beauty and enormity were also soothing. In the days that followed, we biked past waterfalls, massive icefields, more hills and long, blissfully flat roads alongside the Athabasca River. Every vista was gorgeous, every overlook picture-worthy, but nothing surpassed that first day’s climb up Mount Edith Cavell. Dieter told us, in his thick German accent, that the mountain was named in honor of a British nurse in World War I who helped Allied soldiers trapped behind enemy lines escape to safety. Cavell was found guilty of treason and executed by a German firing squad. Some of the Canadian soldiers she aided named this mountain in gratitude and tribute to her heroism. Like those soldiers, I, too, remain grateful for her escort on my uphill journey to the other side. Stephanie Hunt is a Charleston, SC-based freelance writer and long-time contributor to skirt!, among other publications. She blogs (sporadically) at alifestill.com and literarycharleston.wordpress.com, and bikes (frequently) through the Lowcountry flatlands, a region she hopes to make more bike-friendly through work with the nonprofit Charleston Moves. charleston.skirt.com mayw201227 35 www.skirt.com mayw2012savannah
He’s So Original
Jamey Espina says "Aloha." Each May, Hospice Savannah offers a different kind of escape for children who need it most: those dealing with the loss of a loved one. The weekend-long retreat, Camp Aloha, is inspired by the Hawaiian word meaning both hello and goodbye. “Grief is part of who we are,” says director Jamey Espina, “We’re wired for it. Because we love, we grieve.” Welcoming children ages 6-17, camp teaches them how to cope through counselors, creative exercises and, perhaps most importantly, interacting with peers who are going through similar situations. “If you let children be themselves, they’re going to recover naturally,” Jamey explains, “And on our end, we just get to hear love stories all day.” What’s your favorite thing about wearing a skirt? “Men are the minority in my field—to be in the company of the world’s caregivers is an honor.” What’s your favorite thing about reading skirt!? “skirt! helps me stay connected with what’s going on in the community.” Photo by Amy Moore
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Illustration by Monkey Mind Design, Unique Paper Expressions. monkeymindesign.etsy.com 30  mayw2012savannah  www.skirt.com
Skirt of the Month Custard Boutique 422 Whittaker St. 912.232.4733
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Slim Sonic Toothbrush Violight violight.com
To Pack
Vintage Suitcase
La Sardinia Quadrat Camera
Civvies New & Recycled Clothing 22 E. Broughton St. 912.236.1551
Primary Art Supply 14 E. Broughton St. 912.233.7624
“Well-Traveled” Scarf Go Fish 106 W. Broughton St. 912.231.0609
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skirt! scene April 2012 skirt! Magazine Release Party • April 4, 2012 • 17Hundred90 Inn & Restaurant Photos courtesy of Emmy Lubitz & Guinnevere Cutlip
www.savannah.skirt.com • facebook.com/skirtsavannahHHI
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Love this Poster? Prints are available for purchase at LetsLiveLikeThis.com
Jennifer Renninger is an illustrator from Tampa, FL, whose clients include The New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Harper’s, Bark, Urban Outfitters, O Magazine and Chronicle Books.
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Meet My Guilty Pleasure: Cheese.
Meet: Felicia Walker-Hayes, new-member greeter, host and city ambassador for Couch Surfing Savannah, this new addition to the Derby Devils squad is as friendly as she is fearless.
My Favorite Shoes: My skates.
My Lucky Charm: Turkish evil-eye pendant.
My Zodiac Sign: Pisces.
Coolest Place I’ve Traveled: The Great Wall of China.
Favorite Restaurant Cha Bella. Where I Shop Locally Nourish. My Role Model My mother. My Workout Roller derby. Go Derby Devils! Dream Date James Franco. Favorite TV Show The Office. Words I Live By Try everything once! My Pet My dog, Hank, and cats, Coconut and Mini Ninni.
Photo by Emmy Lubitz
Dream Vacation Couch surfing Italy! I’d Like To Learn To speak Chinese fluently. My Gadget My iPhone. Red, White or Beer? Red.
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planetnikki [ a visual journal ]
I realized recently that many of the items on my wish list for the future are things I could do right now.
Instead,
I postpone, proscrastinate and put off pleasure while I dig into my well-worn pedestrian path
day after day after day.
There’s always a leak in the roof, a bill to pay, a reason to be cautious.
pack a bag, lock the door behind me and set off into into the unknown, like the usually sensible Mole in my favorite book,
I need to
Wind in the Willows.
I found this reproduction Buddha head on a weekend trip to Beaufort, SC. It was one of those love-at-firstsight purchases, the kind I never regret.
On Constant Replay: I’ve been watching Let’s Get Lost, the Bruce Weber film about Chet Baker, in sections on YouTube and his jazz masterpiece just won’t let me go.
I love our skirt! luggage tags and the little design our Art Director, Caitilin McPhillips, came up with for them. We’re giving them away at events—be on the lookout.
I didn’t notice that the detail on the side of my new Prada sunglasses matches my tattoo until someone pointed it out. Now I love hiding behind them even more.
My Skirt the Rules bracelet from Kate Spade reminds me not to become too middle-of-the-road.
Nikki Hardin is the founder and publisher of skirt! magazine. She blogs at fridaville.com.
38 mayw2012savannah www.skirt.com