W27 May 2020

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W27 May 2020

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FROM ITALY TO QUARANTINE

BY VICTORIA GUERRERO The year 2020 seemed promising as I stood in the center of Times Square, counting down the seconds till the ball dropped, watching glitter-like confetti fall from the sky. A few weeks later, I was packing my bags, wiping my tears, and boarding a plane to Italy for what I anticipated to be the best four months of my life.

And it started off that way. I unpacked in a modern, spacious Italian apartment that had wooden floors I could glide across; a kitchen with a fridge disguised as a tall white cabinet; a bathroom with two large bowl-shaped sinks and a waterfall faucet. And in the living room, two double casement windows that I would hang out from and watch the sunset on the Duomo, turning as the sky turned shades of pink and purple. This made all ninety-two steps up completely worth it.

I woke up each morning to the sound of church bells, bonging and chiming right outside my window. I’d turn over, centimeters away from my roommate’s bed, and stare out into the morning sky.

The sun was bright, enriching the deep chocolate brown and brick red colors on every rooftop. My eyes adjusted to the sun rays as the smell of espresso brewing in a moka pot made its way to my room and would pull me out of bed.

“Good morning, I made you some,” my roommate, Anna Maria, would say, already pouring almond milk into her coffee.

“You’re the best,” I would respond, secretly thanking the housing department for pairing me with an Italian-American who knew how to operate a moka pot.

The first week, Anna and I headed to Cinema Odeon Firenze in Piazza degli Strozzi for orientation. Unlike your usual orientation, this one was held in a grand Renaissance theater with red velvet, cushion seats, large arches, and gold sculptures sculpted into the sides of the walls. At some point in between the Dean telling a story about a girl who walked into a Starbucks and yelled, “Buongiorno” after returning home from a semester abroad, and the U.S. consulate’s warning for us not to jump off Ponte Santa Trinità, I recognized two familiar faces. They were two girls from the Italian 101 class I had taken the semester prior. Hailey and Katie sat separately across the theater, a few seconds away from falling asleep.

“Hailey, Katie!” I said, chasing after them outside of the theater. To my surprise, they were just as eager to see me with bright smiles and wide arms to pull me in for a group hug. Just like that, we were like a group of life-long friends catching up in the middle of a street in Florence. I introduced them to my roommate Anna and before I knew it, we were laughing and making dinner plans.

That night we met up at Ristorante Pensavo Peggio,, a small restaurant tucked in on a tiny alleyway. I stepped into what felt like someone’s home. There was an older Italian lady cooking in the open kitchen on the left, a few wooden tables and chairs set up straight ahead, and

family photos hung on every wall. “Buona sera ragazze” – good evening ladies, the host said with a smile and soft bow. He led us upstairs to a private area on a balcony that overlooked the kitchen. Shortly after, he came over with a basket of bread, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and a bottle of red Chianti Classico wine and said, “Per te.” We cheered to a glass of Chianti Classico wine and ordered homemade Tuscan dishes in Italian. “Vorrei pici cacio e pepe,” I said, ordering a fresh pasta dish, followed by three “anch’io” me too.

We spent nearly two hours in the restaurant, twirling our forks in fresh pici pasta, sipping Chianti wine, and perfecting our Italian with the waiter.

After dinner, we walked over to MAD, a trendy bar with an edgy French bartender who spun, tossed, and shook cocktails into perfection. “Ciao, ragazze,” she said with our potent cocktails and drinking passports that said, “pretty soul, crazy spirit.” That’s what I felt I was destined to be in Florence. On that same night at MAD, we all expressed our desires to travel, pledged to fulfill our dreams, and took a shot with the bartender to secure the deal. A day later we were in Habitat, a local café, making our dreams plans over a cappuccino and croissant. We planned trips to London, Paris, Greece, Munich, Croatia, and Amalfi Coast, when what seemed like a silly virus was beginning to make its presence known in Italy.

Throughout the following few weeks, my friends and I woke up to panic text messages from our parents urging us to be careful and not to travel. I’ll be honest, I thought Americans were being a little dramatic as a result of American media outlets exploiting a story for ratings. So, we ignored what they sent, and took a weekend trip to Rome, where we met an Italian waiter near the Colosseum. He swore he’d never been to the United States in his life, after nailing the “How you doing?” in a Brooklyn accent. Apparently, he had learned English just from watching the Godfather and the American sitcom Friends. He was the highlight of the trip, bringing me tears of laughter over a margherita pizza, even after seeing the Colosseum, Trevi Fountain, and Spanish Steps.

The following weekend, we traveled to Milan and shopped for our trip to Greece during Fashion Week. We walked the streets of Milan with arms full of shopping bags, our new designer shades on, and our heads held high. We were unstoppable. That is, until we were at the Italian version of Grand Central station, watching the word cancellato and ritardato appear on the train schedule. The coronavirus cancelled or delayed nearly every train departing from Milan, including ours. “Guys, it’s fine.” I said, shrugging off the seriousness of our situation.

“We’ll just get on the next train to Florence. No biggie.” The next day, the four of us walked along Ponte Vecchio, the famous medieval stone bridge decorated in yellow and cream jewelry boutiques that compete with the glistening Arno River. With an authentic banana flavored gelato in my hand, I walked alongside my friends, avoiding making eye contact with the group of girls that were hugging with eyes full of tears. Later, I learned that those girls were New York University stu-

dents, and were among the first group of students to be pulled out of Italy because of the coronavirus.

I was in a rage for those girls as Hailey read aloud a news article with the details of the program suspension. I couldn’t fathom a rich American university going to the extent of destroying students’ dreams to avoid a lawsuit. I refused to believe that a virus could cause this much damage. But within the next few days, I learned really quickly that this “silly virus” wasn’t so silly and it was spreading like wildfire, leaving my dreams of studying abroad to burn.

On Monday, March 2nd, the streets of Florence were deserted. Youthful laughter that had once filled the air was replaced with silence. I discovered this sad reality the hard way. I walked into my 9 a.m. class and was the only student left in Travel Writing.

It actually felt like a joke, like I had missed the “senior cut day” memo. Even then, when there were less than five students left in each class, my friends and I fought to stay in Italy. We persuaded our home school counselors to let us stay, assuring them that we were fine and that our Italian school was still open (which it was). We went back to MAD that night, and made another promise to not leave Italy until May 16th.

We became the Italiana resistenza. That is, until Wednesday, March 4th. On that day we received an email from a SUNY representative. Governor Cuomo announced that he was suspending all SUNY and CUNY programs effective immediately and that we would all have to begin packing because a military charter flight would be arranged in the next few days. The chartered flight was supposed to transport us from Italy to an air force base in New York to begin a 14-day quarantine.

That email suffocated me, triggering tears that I couldn’t stop. I immediately called my mom, despite it having been 1 a.m. in New York. I cried, screamed, and bashed the Governor to her. There were zero cases in Florence at the time. I didn’t understand why Cuomo was pulling me out of Florence, and forcing me back to a state where the number or Coronavirus cases was rising daily. I didn’t foresee the worldwide lockdown or economic struggle that was about to hit my family.

In that moment, all I could think about were the years I spent working, saving a portion of every paycheck to study abroad.

The countless hours I spent perfecting my application and getting course approvals from different departments. Or the stress I was under trying to get an appointment with the Italian consulate and ensure that I had all the paperwork I needed to obtain a student visa. I refused to let the virus destroy what I had worked so hard for.

I hung up the phone with my mom, I wiped my tears, took a deep breath, and met up with my friends to create a plan to stay in Florence. Together, with our parents an ocean away, we spent hours calling our home school, the U.S consulate, and even the Governor. No one had any information regarding the decision. We stormed into our Italian counselor’s office with swollen eyes and flushed faces.

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“Elena, help us,” we cried desperately. Her jaw dropped as we revealed the sequences of events to her. She was in pure disbelief at how serious this had all become. Like us, she had believed that the pandemic was exaggerated. Her hands and voice were trembling as she explained that American universities had been pulling students out for weeks, with no regards to the counselors. Given the fluidity of the situation and the time difference, it seemed that every statement she had received from a school was contradicted a day later. After reading through the email herself, Elena sat us down and broke the truth to us. Our program was suspended, and our host school could not legally allow us to stay in the housing we were in. She advised that we sign up for the distant learning program and take the chartered-flight home, because we would not be reimbursed otherwise. The New York State Governor was more powerful than any of us had ever imagined—he had managed to take all of our pieces and leave us with no move. Checkmate.

Anna, Hailey, Katie, and I made our way back to Ponte Vecchio - where it had all begun. We did a little retail therapy to numb the pain. Hailey had purchased a thick silver cross necklace; Anna a Florence hoodie; Katie a gelato; and I, a Pandora charm with the Lily iris Florentina, an ancient symbol of Florence. But no amount of shopping could ease the heartbreak we were all experiencing. I reached for all three girls and pulled them in for a hug. Suddenly, we were that group of friends crying in the middle of Ponte Vecchio. Before I knew it, we were hauling our luggage through the cobblestone streets of Florence, stopping into our local cafés, ordering our last cappuccino and croissant, and saying arrivederci to Florence. Tears trailed down each of our cheeks as we traveled to Fiumicino airport and prepared to board our flight. At the airport, my friends and I learned that we would be sent to the SUNY Brockport campus for a 14-day quarantine that was obligated with the chartered flight home. Some students were allowed to go home for quarantine if they had direct transportation to their home and an isolated area for quarantine. My friends and I did not. We were the unlucky ones with an 8-hour bus-ride up to Brockport, New York, after a 9-hour plane ride from Rome. The twenty-four hours of travel was the least of my worries. I was still in disbelief. Of all things, how had a virus interfered with study abroad experience?

I dragged my feet through the airport and went through security, customs, and screening, all with a little bit of an attitude.

Ten hours later, I landed in JFK and was told to wait an additional thirty minutes for an overexcited SUNY representative to board the plane. “Welcome everyone! Are you all happy to be here?” he asked as he boarded, as if I had just landed in Cancun. He informed us of our next few steps: we were to exit the plane outside, retrieve our bags and go through custody in a nearby garage, and board our assigned bus for transportation to the quarantine facility. As if it couldn’t get worse, he threw in a small piece of advice: use the bathroom on the plane now—because it could be our last opportunity for a while. Gee-thanks. After a 9-hour flight, the last place I wanted to visit was the onflight restroom that was out of toilet paper and hand soap, and overflowing with paper towels. But clearly my battle with the Government had long been over.

The cold, bitter air, that smells of a dreary New York winter hit me as soon as I stepped off the plane. For a second I imagined being back in Italy, wrapped in a warm breeze on

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a 60 degree day; the smell of a warm summer right around the corner. I was brought back to reality by a homeland security officer. He demanded that all phones be put away. He assured us that all videos and pictures were forbidden – with a slight nod towards the homeland security and police cars that were surrounding the plane. All eyes were glued on me as I stepped off the plane with my phone in sight. Suddenly, I thought, was I a student being rescued, or being treated as Patient Zero?

After going through customs and retrieving my luggage, I was assigned “Bus B,” where I was greeted by a bus driver who insisted we wear masks. I was on a bus with approximately twenty-four other SUNY students and all at once we were invited into a WhatsApp group chat by SUNY Brockport. “A group chat?! Are we on some game show?” I heard some students from the back of the bus say. Shortly after, I received an email from the college regarding the regulations of the quarantine.

I would be separated from friends that I had spent nearly every day of the last month with, and forced into isolation for the next fourteen days. I tossed my phone to the side, closed my swollen eyes, and let my tears of defeat put me to sleep.

We arrived at the college at 4 a.m. The air was bitter and smelled of musk. It reminded me of cold summer-nights I would spend Upstate in late August. I walked into Gordon Hall exhausted. I could barely open my eyes to get a clear image of the nurse who greeted me and assigned me to a bedroom. I walked down a long hall with a grey carpet and beige walls until I reached my room: 9A. Each room that I passed had a metal-folding chair outside. On my door, there was a sign with Katie’s and my name on it. Thankfully, we had been assigned the same suite. I opened the door to a general area with a lime green couch on the left.

Next to the couch there was a brown wooden door to my bedroom. Across from my room was the bathroom and Katie’s room. Although we lived together, we were not permitted to see one another. If we did, and health officials found out we risked being prosecuted in court for public endangerment. We’d have to coordinate with one another via text to retrieve our meals that were left on the metal-folding chairs outside of our rooms.

Each of the ten days I was quarantined at Brockport was different. The first few were the worst. I was still hurt and angry at the world.

I shut everyone out and ignored all calls and text messages. I was fueled with emotions that I had to dish out on pen and paper – not in my response to the million “how are you?” messages I was receiving. Some days I did not leave my bed and others I sat at a desk all day, writing, trying to figure out how I went from living freely to being trapped. And lord, was it hard adjusting to eating American cafeteria food after fresh, high-quality Italian food.

There were a few days that I went through pasta withdrawals, crying over an instant cup of microwavable mac and cheese.

PHOTO COURTESY VICTORIA GUERRERO

A week into quarantine, I finally pulled myself out of my own sorrows and realized the severity of this worldwide pandemic. Italy was on a complete lockdown, and New York City was about to enter one too. Governor Cuomo closed all schools and all non-essential business. Travel was banned and social distancing was put into place. The world was coming to a halt and I wasn’t the only victim. My grandmother, the backbone of our family, who has worked my entire life at our local diner was out of job. My mother, who had unfortunately worked for Liberty Travel during a worldwide pandemic was laid off. My sister, who was graduating high school would potentially miss out on her prom and graduation. And my grandfather, with a pre-existing heart condition and my uncle, with diabetes, would be locked up at home in a matter of days, afraid to leave.

It was then, that I stopped pitying myself, and pulled myself out of the hole. I decided to be the support and strength that my family needed. I accepted Brockport’s efforts in cheering me up and engaged in their virtual activities, such as Zoom yoga, Kahoot trivia, and 90s-themed bingo with themed candy.

I invited Anna, Hailey, and Katie to virtual lunch or dinner dates via group facetime. We revealed our meals to each other and pretended it was fresh pici pasta. We cheered almond milk and made plans for after quarantine. We had planned to go home after our two week quarantine, let the crisis settle, and hop on the next flight to Europe. But like everything else, we learned that those two weeks quarantined in Brockport were just the beginning.

This pandemic is nowhere near its end, and it’s becoming increasingly clear that I am farther away from going back to Italy than I have ever been. More so, I’m further away from the friends I made. Sometimes, I can’t help but miss Gordon Hall. At least there, we were all under one roof together, not states away. But all I can do now is be thankful that my friends and I are home, safe and healthy with our families. Thankful to have been quarantined at SUNY Brockport surrounded by a generous community that loved and supported my journey. Blessed to have even experienced the little bit of Firenze that I did. I hope that we can return again, someday soon. Until next time ragazze.■■

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Class of 2020 DANIELLE DELLACCIO School never used to be my favorite thing - if I’m being blatantly honest.

I think I had senioritis in kindergarten. But my first day at FIT changed my perspective on school tremendously. Suddenly, being immersed in such a creative community made me feel like home. Originally from New York, the thought of graduating at Radio City Music Hall on a sunny day in May was a dream to me. I had been looking forward to graduation since day one. To say I was shocked when that was taken away due to this virus is an understatement. But the rug was ripped out from under all of us, so we’re in this together.

I think I am strangely adapting quite well to quarantine because “fomo” doesn’t exist. Don’t get me wrong, I get a bit stir-crazy from time to time, but since nobody is allowed to do anything I don’t feel like I’m missing out on life. That being said, a personal challenge this has brought to me is a bad case of writer’s block - songwriting, that is. Experiences inspire my songs and now that there is a lack

of them, I’m not writing as much.

Most songs I write are based off of conversations with those around me, signs I see on the street, and just seeing life happen in front of my eyes.

Being deprived of those in-person connections is definitely affecting me as I’m striving to shape myself as an artist. What I have been doing, however, is revisiting old, unfinished songs and fine-tuning them, which is something I rarely ever had time to do before - finding silver linings!

All and all, I’ve been trying to stay positive. My parents have been optimistic, which is hard to be in a time like this, which has trickled down to me in many ways. We even have family game nights! And we never had family game nights before. It’s kind of nice to spend quality time with family and for that, I am grateful. I believe that if we all just keep the glass half full, we can raise the vibration of the planet, and things will be better before we know it. Cheers to the class of 2020! It’s been really real. ■

PHOTO COURTESY DANIELLE DELLACCIO

MICHELLE CHUN As I’ve reflected over my time at FIT, I’ve definitely felt my heartstrings pull. Raised in the suburbs of Northern Virginia, New York City was a fascination for most of my adolescence. I wasn’t someone who had planned to move to the city, it just happened to unfold that way. I transferred to FIT in my Junior year and was admitted into the one year AAS program for Fashion Design. It was a very interesting year of all-nighters, occasional breakdowns, and wonderful friends and memories that I will hold dear. For my Bachelors’ degree, I chose ITM (International Trade Marketing), because I wanted to learn more about marketing. Within my two years at this school, I lived and breathed the New York dream. Having access to one of the greatest cities in the world, I’ve been given so many amazing opportunities that I’m beyond grateful for.

Nonetheless, I had imagined my graduating year to be completely different. It seems as if everything came to a tumultuous halt when Covid-19 hit, and undoubtedly a wave of anxiety took over regard-

ing life post-grad. A myriad of emotions, a multitude of questions, and no remedy for either.

The greatest emotion was fear - fear of the unknown. In a modern world, where we live off of instant gratification, this virus has been life-altering. Nonetheless, it’s been a lesson in the making.

As we are on week eight of quarantine now, here is a summary of my experiences and what I’ve learned thus far.

1) I love to-do lists.

2) Screen Time has increased an embarrassingly high amount.

3) I took a break from Netflix and have delved into the world of podcasts.

4) Started exercising more...quarantine glo up omw.

5) Home. Cooking.

6) Banana bread is EVERYTHING. 7) I have an affinity for curating playlists.

8) Self care isn’t just a routine, it’s a state of mind.

I don’t know when normalcy will return, but I hope that everyone and their families are staying safe and well. ■ PHOTO COURTESY MICHELLE CHUN

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Class of 2020 MALKA NEBRO I’m not really sure what I expected from FIT. I’m not even really sure why I applied, or how it ended up being my top choice. I’ve never had that passion for the fashion industry that so many of my peers do, and I still don’t, even after all this time. I’ve felt myself moving through the motions of a college career for four years—I don’t think I’ve ever really enjoyed school.

ple I’ve come to love so dearly, before some of us disperse around the country or the world for the next chapters of our lives. I’m hopeful that this will not go on for too much longer, and that some sense of normalcy can be regained – and I will be once again safe in the city, the place I now call home. ■

However, what I learned from my time at FIT, and from dorming with my first college friend and moving into an apartment with others, is that this city is just as amazing and spectacular and beautiful as they make it seem in the movies.

I learned the importance of friendship, especially when I can’t see them all during this quarantine. I’ve learned what independent city living is like, and how much I miss it when I’m stuck back home. And I’ve learned that a college experience is not just about textbook learning, but perhaps more importantly about personal growth, soul searching, and passion finding.

PHOTO COURTESY MALKA NEBRO

Finishing my last semester of college on my parent’s couch is something I could have never seen coming. Of course I wish I could finish up my academic career in person, being able to present my capstone project to an in-person panel of judges, with the opportunity to thank my professors for all the semesters I’ve spent with them, but c’est la vie. What I’m really missing most is being able to spend time with the group of peo-

ALONDRA YENYETE In the midst of chaos, I’ve learned to relinquish control.

I’ve found strength in my friends, classmates, and even the faculty members who sit behind these tiny screens to assure that a future that seems so uncertain is full of opportunities. When the clock stops ticking and time itself ceases to exist, I found comfort in the way that the sun still manages to rise and grace us yet another day.

As a senior, part of the graduating class of 2020, to say that I feel overwhelmed is an understatement. As I’ve grown accustomed to this new normal, I often find myself unable to shake the feelings of fear and anxiety that dance over my head. As a senior, you hope to graduate with a job or internship lined up, you hope to walk across that stage that sym-

bolizes the end of a journey and the start of a new one. So what do you do when your plans and dreams are put to a halt? I’ve learned to let go of my need to control and to move forward with each new day that approaches.

As I settled into this new world of isolation, I began to collect and cherish some of my favorite memories. The first time I stepped foot on FIT’s campus, making the Educational Opportunity Programs office my second home, presenting a class project with the world’s shakiest voice -- but doing it anyway, mustering up the courage to write for Blush magazine. The list goes on. However, some of the greatest lessons I’ll carry with me for a lifetime are that vulnerability holds strength, your mental wellbeing is heavily important, and your voice matters.

GINA FAYAZI Like others, my days were very structured before everything happened. I often spent much of the day commuting between NYC and New Jersey. These time restrictions helped me from wasting time making decisions/ procrastinating. Now that I am working, learning, and doing art from home, there’s been a large shift in routine. I’m slower to start projects and I have limited materials, but I have more time in my day to work. I’m finding beauty in drawing, using water-based paint, and collaging more. I wake up to instantly go right to work on whatever project I have and catch up on reading. I

wanted this painting to represent my personal objects and reflect on the subconscious energy felt through this experience. Though I’m surrounded by comfort and the world has begun slowing down, the world is also really hurting outside, and there is a lot to sympathize with. Designing the still life at home was half the work because it allowed me to really be interested in something I like. I like crowded structures with patterns because you get a massive static movement of color and smaller shapes. As I painted, I felt engulfed and overwhelmed, and I hope the viewer feels this as well. ■

To the graduating class of 2020, I have never been inspired and encouraged more to push forward, and I am grateful to have been part of this journey with you. To the professors that return week after week with smiles on your faces, I thank you for being a source of light and joy. I don’t know what life after all of this means, but I know that beyond a cloudy sky, the sun is waiting to be seen again.■

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To Graduate in Quarantine: A Journal Entry

BY LOLA CORNILLON

Through keeping a quarantine journal, I can tell you a few things (thus far).

1. Things are very real and they are also very cartoon-ish.

2. I have it much better than many people do.

3. There are good days and there are really bad days.

4. I still love the people I love and we are doing alright on the whole.

During this time, I’ve listened to music. I’ve re-listened to some of my favorite albums. In particular, I’ve listened to my most favorite (sort of feels like the time to bring out the word favorist) album by the band Little Joy. They only have one album, which came out in 2008, but I am sort of okay with that.

Albums that have been helpful on many days: 1. The Year of Hibernation by Youth Lagoon.

2. Little Joy by Little Joy. 3. Nico’s Chelsea Girl.

4. Future Nostalgia by Dua Lipa.

Through my time at FIT, I can tell you a number of things: 1. Living in New York has taught me that living in New York is the best choice one can make.

2. Fashion can be art and clothing should not be produced through harming children or the Earth.

3. College is important, but half of what I’ve learned has come from New York, the people I’ve been exposed to, and the experiences I’ve had that bring me out of my comfort zone.

Most likely, the writing that I am doing during this time is mainly for me. But so often writing is a way to navigate your thoughts independently, in such a way that hopefully turns into some funky-fun/eloquent and thought-provoking sentences. On the whole, this time is wildly strange and complex and hard to understand, even when you do know you have it a lot better than someone else.

Here is an entry from my journal on May 1st, sitting outside of my mother’s home in Upstate New York.

It is the beginning of May. What I’ve accomplished, I’m not sure, on nice days I can feel satisfied, happy even, with my growth. The person that I was before FIT, before moving to the city, was so confused, but more than that, just underdeveloped and unaware of what could be. To realize how you want to be seen, see the world, and the people you choose to spend your time with matters so much towards mental health, self-growth, and feeling like “okay, this will likely work itself out, as long as I keep learning.”

I think more than anything, FIT and NYC as a whole have taught me to keep learning about myself – and part of that is self-made; working for a disabilities summer camp my past three summers, having what feels like a dozen jobs and internships, or choosing to work in Paris for a year this upcoming Fall. But really, without New York, and going to a school that made me question the very industry it supported, then question it again and again – I don’t think I would be as thoughtful, as prone to ask questions, or as eager and curious. While graduating from college feels in part like a scary, nauseatingly daunting new step, I’m reminded that as long as I look for new opportunities, question my surroundings, and pause when necessary, things will likely work themselves out.

My experience with fashion is constantly changing, and in many ways, I am always following trends/copying styles that I see on someone else, knowing that I feel 10x better in my body when I have on an outfit that I like. And there is nothing wrong with this. Fashion, as a whole, comes in bouts and waves, but they are never new, always a recycling of past styles and trends that likely came from historic necessity in some way or another. To say that because I like to dress like Avril Lavigne in 2002 does not mean her style came from a post-war liberal expression of excess fabric or wealth, but that her 2002 look was likely a take on mid 90s poppunk style, and that these styles will always recycle on. Recycled thoughts, designs revisited years later, trends that are seen on bodies on

Canal and on W. 27th street, in Upstate New York or on Long Island. There is no shame in this recycling, it means inspiration was sought and there was an attempt at fitting in, at being seen. And I think that’s a dilemma that a lot of FIT student’s face, (freshman year, at least), feeling seen in a sea of like-minded (fish?) – and I don’t think FIT on its own has the capability or resources to even begin to tackle this idea, but learning as you go, with opportunities to experience a city that is so centered in a plethora of ideas that it will bring you to extreme highs and extremely unpredictable, unwarranted lows, there are opportunities there. So ultimately, as I sit outside and feel okay (today), happy to be alive with a warm home to sleep in, I am thankful. For FIT, for New York, which I will return to soon, and for everyone and everything that makes me feel “whole” (at 22).■

PHOTOS COURTESY LOLA CORNILLON

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HOW A HEALTHCARE PROFESSIONAL HAS BEEN AFFECTED BY THE CORONAVIRUS

BY PRERNA CHAUDHARY The coronavirus is still affecting thousands of New Yorkers every day, but it is especially affecting those that are on the frontlines: healthcare professionals (HCP). The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) said that if a HCP is wearing protective personal equipment (PPE) and has come in contact with a coronavirus positive patient, the HCP should not come to work for 14 days since the exposure. Of the healthcare facilities that remain open, many are bombarded with patients. It is nearly impossible to protect yourself from coming in close contact with people that have coronavirus, said Supervising Pharmacist Shamina Dohadwalla from Healthways Pharmacy, an independent pharmacy in Kings County, Brooklyn.

The Healthways Pharmacy’s area includes Manhattan Beach, Brighton Beach, and parts of Coney Island. The median household income of the area was approximately $53,000 in 2018, which was significantly lower than that of New York State at $65,000.

According to The New York Times, “data made public by city health officials…suggests [coronavirus] is hitting low-income neighborhoods the hardest,” and Healthways Pharmacy is in one of those neighborhoods. The pharmacy’s zip code, 11235, was #31 on the list of 68 New York City zip codes that had the most number of coronavirus cases at 348 as of April, but patients come from other zip codes, too.

Based on the prescriptions from the patient’s doctor, Shamina can assume that some of the patients definitely have coronavirus, even though they have not been tested. The patients, however, are quick to say “I know I don’t have COVID.” Shamina noticed that there is a strong stigma around coronavirus; many of her patients, among other people, think that coronavirus is a “Chinese virus” and that only unhygienic people can contract it. While it is true that the virus is best prevented by washing your hands with soap and water frequently, anyone can get it by coming in contact with someone that has it.

Although Shamina worked at chain pharmacies, including CVS, she sought working in an area that she felt she could make a difference, which is why she chose to work at an independent pharmacy in a low-income area. After seven years of working at Healthways Pharmacy, Shamina has come to know her patients by name and showed remorse when she revealed that she had “already lost two patients to the virus,” one of whom was “the kindest man, so young at 65.” Many of the patients are native Hindi and Urdu speakers, but some choose to speak Gujurati to Shamina because it is one of her primary languages. This goes to show how much of a connection some patients feel to her as a pharmacist and person.

not able to supply the patients with their medication, the patients were more forgiving than usual to the employees. The patients easily understand that the pharmacy is running low on medication because of the pandemic. Insurance companies have told their customers to stock up on three months worth of routine medication, and this has led to a lack of available medicine.

She is taking great precaution by using a different entrance, bathroom, and bedroom than her family members. To take extra caution, Shamina showers twice a day, including washing her hair both times. She mentioned, “I don’t feel loved. I really miss being hugged by my husband and daughter,” but her family members are staying six feet away from her since she is a HCP.

Along with the reduced availability of medicine, the lack of access to N95 masks has taken a toll on Shamina. She typically works for 8 hours for 4 days of the week, which is the maximum amount of time one is supposed to wear the mask according to the Centers of Disease Control and Prevention.

Her son, who had extra N95 masks leftover from California wildfires, had to mail her some masks. The mask causes her ears to have pain, and she is still not 100% sure of how to sanitize her mask every day. Shamina had to convince her coworker, a pharmacy technician, to be driven to work by another coworker, a prescription delivery person, so that the pharmacy technician would stop taking public transportation and put her coworkers at risk.

Shamina appreciates what her fellow HCP and friends are doing to support her. Two doctors she knows will speak with her on the phone and provide support, along with giving her ideas on how to be safe at work.

Her friends will drop off food so that she has one less thing to do that day. She sees her friends cooking new and interesting recipes for their families with all this extra time now that they are quarantined at home. Shamina feels pressure to do the same, but then has to remind herself that she does not have the luxury of working from home or newly found extra time. One friend was kind enough to audio record a prayer that both of them say every day in their heads. The friend said that she wanted to make one part of Shamina’s day easier.

On top of the extra precautions HCP must take, the Healthways Pharmacy is very small, so the employees have had to stop letting patients inside because it is the only way to actually keep social distance. When a patient wants to get their medication, an employee has to go to the door, drop off the medication, and return back to the desk before the patient is supposed to pick up the medication. Shamina revealed that, unfortunately, the patients typically do not wait for the employees to be six feet away before taking their medication. She knows she and the other employees are at high risk of getting coronavirus because of their jobs. Even though Shamina is glad to be able to help ease her patients’ concerns and help people solve their health problems, she wants non-HCP to “think more about social distancing because that is the only way the load on [HCP] can be reduced.”

Being a HCP is especially difficult in these times. In months leading up to the uprise of COVID-19, Shamina was “not getting job satisfaction” and did not feel that she was “making a difference.” She ended up reducing her work hours to work on her passion, art: glass painting, marble powder on glass, and acrylic painting. It was only when the situation escalated, however, that she realized, “maybe that’s why I got my pharmacy license.” She said, “Thank god I didn’t stop what I was doing. I suddenly felt my purpose.”

Outside of her job, Shamina misses her usual routine at home. After long hours at work, she looks forward to coming home to her husband and children when they return home (they both live outside of the state).

Even though HCP are being affected by COVID-19 when they are putting themselves at risk through their jobs, they continue to go to work and help those that are in need.

When Shamina’s maternal uncle in Queens passed away from the virus, she still had to go to work and help others. Shamina said, “ I was devastated and felt that I was fighting a losing battle.” HCP often think about others before themselves, and that is even more evident right now. The least we can do as non HCP for all essential workers is take social distancing more seriously as much as we can to slow the spread of the virus. ■

Even though there is a lot troubling the pharmacy, Shamina still managed to find some positives to the situation. Her coworkers, who are pharmacy technicians, became more empathetic to their patients, and the patients became more understanding, too. When Healthways Pharmacy was PHOTOS COURTESY PRERNA CHAUDHARY

8

2020 ISSUE

W27

COVID-19’S SHINING STARS: INDEPENDENT SUSTAINABLE FASHION LABELS

BY LYDIA SANT Despite revenue loss due to coronavirus, independent fashion labels are using their resources to provide aid during this global health pandemic. Smaller fashion designers bear the brunt of economic instability, relying on shipments and retailers who are freezing outgoing payments and pushing back their fall orders. Although these designers rely on the shipping cycle for their primary source of revenue, many are finding ways to help their communities; sewing masks and donating resources. With larger heritage labels often missing the mark on ethics and sustainability–– independent brands are bringing humanity back ‘in fashion’.

CFDA’s initiative called, “A Common Thread,” a grant, was launched with the hopes of supporting small fashion businesses who are faltering under already slim profit margins, limited access to retailers and reduced staff. The grant is being offered to small to midsize fashion brands that have been operating for roughly more than two years (Women’s Wear Daily defined small to medium-size as having no more than 30 full-time employees and under $10 million in revenue). The Paycheck Protection Program, a $350 million non-fashion specific fund launched by the federal government for direct business loans also is included in the $2 trillion Coronavirus Stimulus Package. Those eligible for the Paycheck Protection Program are businesses with less than 500 employees. WWD describes those qualified as, “sole proprietorships, independent contractors, self-employed individuals, private nonprofit organizations or veteran organizations that have been impacted by the COVID-19 pandemic.” But even with access to these grants, the boots on the ground mechanisms of running a non-essential small business remain a daunting task. In the face of hardship, small labels have been stepping up in generous ways.

“This is not what I ever wanted my business to look like, but it has given people a chance to truly rise up and demonstrate leadership. I tell my employees–– choices make

“

champions. The choices that we all make now are going to show me who is capable of leading in the future.” Kelly Lingaard, CEO of New York-based sustainable fashion company ‘Unshattered’, says. Unshattered makes bags from upcycled material, and the women who make the bags have come out of an addiction recovery program. Unshattered provides them with skills training, an apprenticeship, and eventually a job as a seamstress or designer. “I’m still paying my employees full time.” Unshattered has made over 3700 masks in three weeks and encouraged their community to do the same through a ‘social distancing sewing circle,’ where contributors can sew a mask and drop it off at Unshattered’s headquarters. “I figured there was about a two to three-week runway on making masks for hospitals until the supply chain caught up, and that seems to be happening. We just shifted from front line caregivers to secondary caregivers like nursing homes and prisons.” Kelly has formed Unshattered around the idea that each product is individual–– creativity is what fuels and motivates her employees. “Now, it’s hard because we feel like a factory, making the same thing day after day. It’s important to get feedback from our community to keep up morale.” Eventually, Kelly plans to switch to a revenue stream but recognizes that a global health pandemic requires humane action first, business second.

With ideas of ethics and sustainability threaded through the shows at NYFW, where does this leave the fashion ecosystem post quarantine? “The way small brands are acting, and the way heritage brands don’t reveal a bigger issue.” Olivia Dziak, a fashion design student at the Fashion Institute of Technology. There is no art form in not caring, and Dziak predicts that fewer trends and fewer pre-collections will become the norm for the next generation of designers. “The consumerism promoted by labels who are already receiving the majority of their revenue from their product licensing as opposed to producing innovative designs on the runway needs to

stop.” Dziak has seen more coronavirus activism from independent designers with an emphasis on ethical fashion than from heritage fashion designers. In an interview with WWD, indie brand Merlette explains how their business model has helped them adapt in an unpredictable economy, “We produce two edited collections per year in line with pre-collections only. Our proprietary fabrics are reused season after season to minimize waste and we are not held to costly fabric liabilities. We sell online via d-to-c and do not yet own retail stores.” If this model is what businesses are resorting to during coronavirus, Dziak is not alone in her hopes for a more reasonable and ethical future for fashion. “When I design, I want to use and make what is necessary, things people will want to wear for the rest of their lives...fashion isn’t essential, and we have to realize that if we’re to grow.” Humility in a time of crisis seems to be the very thing keeping smaller brands alive. “My job as a designer and what I sell is not essential.” states ready-to-wear designer Marina Moscone in an interview with WWD. “While I firmly believe that beauty and artistry can help relieve society in this moment of turmoil, I also realize that what I do from day to day — being nonessential can be re-strategized to do something for others in desperate need.

These independent designers are looking for innovation in their product sourcing and hoping to return to a profitable stream of revenue soon, but they are focusing on a more pressing matter–– fighting the coronavirus, together. This health pandemic has stripped the ties that separated fashion brands and consumers. Human and human, cut from the same cloth. ■

This is not what I ever wanted my business to look like, but it has given people a chance to truly rise up and demonstrate leadership. I tell my employees–– choices make champions. The choices that we all make now are going to show me who is capable of leading in the future.

”

FIT

MAY 2020

9

HOW I COPE

BY CHARLOTTE SPAID PHOTOS COURTESY CHARLOTTE SPAID

Each day for me, I take it as it is.

Each day I wake up, stare at my trees, and make my coffee.

Each day I try to feel something within myself, Trying to rid the harm and bring goodness into my sometimes aching soul.

Much like many of us, I was forced to leave the city by an invisible demon. I relocated to a small town outside of Akron, Ohio. A town that I once escaped from, a town that now feels like the twilight zone. My first few days home were a little rough, the pain in my chest made me decide to change my way of living during this pandemic. A way of living that brings me more joy, and helps me cope with this surreal time we are living in.

For starters, I stopped being on my phone.

The huge lump sum of time on my hands brings me to a decision of what I should do to fuel my spirit. Reading the news, and being on social media, really fogged my brain.

It felt so consuming with everything going on. So I separated myself from it all, heard what I needed to from my family, kept up with my close friends, and posted things that felt good to me and positive for someone else to read.

Sitting and doing nothing sometimes is just the thing my body needs, but sometimes I felt restless. Being detached from my favorite city, and being so busy every day, makes me feel the need to do something. So that’s why I fill my time doing things I love.

I picked up my guitar again, a powerful instrument is she. I never really had the time this year to practice. Playing my guitar and learning new songs has been ever so challenging to do on my own, but it feels rewarding, and it feels empowering, and it feels like a good break to learn something away from my computer. Granted, I’m not very good at playing the guitar and singing.

But that’s okay! It makes my heart feel so good to just jam it out sometimes.

A few of my favorite things to play lately: Fine Line by Harry Styles Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley Smoke Signals by Phoebe Bridgers Rejoice by Julien Baker I’m on Fire by Soccer Mommy

I spend a lot of time outside, even if it’s cold.

Feeling the sunshine on my face, feeling the fresh air fill my lungs, feeling my heart race as I run through the woods. And this has been something I’ve become so grateful for, having my own space to be outside surrounded by almost no one, something that I rarely got in the city.

I started painting watercolors, painting really relaxes my brain. I love painting over facetime with my friend. I love having painting sessions with my mom, another fellow artist, this is something we never get the chance to do together. I love creating something beautiful, bring creative has really helped in keeping me motivated and fresh. I repainted my childhood bedroom and filled it with my watercolor paintings.

My environment very much affects me, and creating a beautiful space fills me with joy.

Sometimes you really just have to dance it out. I’m very attached to my music, it makes me SO emotional. I made a playlist of music I can dance to, sing to. It feels so good to get all that angst out and just dance, as cheesy as that sounds.

Here’s what I’ve been dancing to lately: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/71mdIOZoMu1INSX2xkZuay?si=1KKY3Z T1Ruy9h_0jKbV_6w Sometimes it’s as though I may feel everything times 10, my head has so much more time and space to think. Old and new feelings coming up. Sometimes when my head feels in a jam, my journal is my best friend in clearing my thoughts. Journaling in my bed, journaling on my porch, taking time to myself and journaling on the lake.

It’s the little details I notice about my day, it’s doing small rituals, connecting with yourself, doing things you love that fuel your spirit. I do all of these things to help me get by, to grow in these difficult times.

This may all be a mix of things, but these are things that help me cope through this, things that can define my day, and things that make my soul feel good.

I sit in the promises for my life, I sit in the love and peace given to me.

This is how I deal with my grief, and this is how I deal with my anxiety. ■

FIT

MAY 2020

How I’ve Been Affected by COVID-19

BY JOI BERRY

You know when you’ve been struggling for a while trying to maintain stability within work, your social life, etc., but something just hinders that perfect balance? That is the jist of my COVID-19 Experience, but sugarcoated. After planning an event with The Black Student Union, working with sponsors and companies to make a firsttime event occur on FIT campus, while also maintaining a job, career-changing projects outside of school, and eight classes, I was extremely proud of what I was doing and achieving at this age. Unfortunately, I had a horrible worklife balance. I would be up at 2AM working on events, writing articles or even pulling all nighters because I know that school comes first.

Around the time COVID-19 was beginning to get serious, I had been coordinating and coming together with all of the teams I had been working with for various projects and events; all of the hard work was coming to an end, and we were excited to see the results.

This is when March 12th came around. FIT told their students that there would be no school for the following week. I was uncertain of what I should do at that time, but my mom eventually talked me into flying home all the way back to Florida. I was on the phone with JetBlue because their site crashed until about 1AM. I caught a flight the next day, planning to return the following Sunday. While I was sitting at home on a Tuesday afternoon, that’s when the anxiety hit. Suddenly, FIT told us to vacate the dorms by March 31st - and now I had many issues ahead. It was dangerous at the time to fly, but I would have to fly up there to get my things, pack everything and fly back with extra checked luggage expenses. It didn’t make sense for the amount of risk and money that would cost. After contacting student life,

the only thing they could do was extend the time I could get all of my items from my dorm ,offering no other solutions. I was very frustrated because not only were all my clothes there, but my expensive technology and equipment including an iMac, iPad and my DSLR camera/lenses.

I was stuck at home with a week’s worth of clothing and a laptop.

Not long after, New York cases began to rise rapidly, as time went on, it began to be less and less rational for me to go back.

After looking around frantically for someone to ship my things, we found a guy on task rabbit that could pack up my things without me being there for quite a bit of money. Afterwards, we found Dorm2Dorm after recommendations of other students who were in a similar situation.

I also had to rebuy materials in order to continue my classes in Communications Design. So far, this experience has cost my family and I $1,000 or more.

To offer some constructive criticism, I wish I had more support from FIT, especially FITResLife.

It’s one thing to say you’re here for your students, but it’s another thing to offer solutions. I understand ResLife may have not been able to do a lot, but the least you all could do is research ways for students to get benefits or help during this time. It’s disappointing that I have to check my classmates’ social

Fleeing Florence

10

PHOTO COURTESY JOI BERRY

media and communicate with other FIT parents in order to find resources and ask around for help, instead of anyone in a higher position at FIT giving me answers.

Though this is a traumatizing situation, especially as a freshman, I’m trying to make the most of it. This is the time to start personal projects, work hard and closely with the people you were working with before; expand your knowledge by learning new things and extending your existing knowledge based on the topics that mean the most to you. Personally, I’ve decided to start more digital drawing, organizing my portfolio, writing fashion articles and planning for the future.

I believe everyone should take the time and invest in what they want to do and self reflect. We’ll get through this.■ ■

PHOTO COURTESY CHRISTA CAMP

BY CHRISTA CAMP “This cannot be happening;” a statement that my roommate and I kept repeating to one another as we feverishly re-packed our luggage. We had spent what felt like a millisecond in our new temporary home, Florence, Italy before having to evacuate following the outbreak of COVID-19. This spring semester was supposed to be the time of our lives, a time where we could travel throughout Europe with school as our only responsibility. When I left the United States on January 26th, 2020, the day I had been anticipating for nearly a year, I had no clue that in five weeks I would be returning to the same airport feeling confused, flustered, and devastated. From the end of January to the first few days in March, my study abroad experience felt stellar. Unbeknownst to me, it would come to a crashing halt.

I had just returned from a weekend in London, a new city that I could cross off of my lengthy and meticulously planned out ‘places to visit’ list. Little did I know that the coronavirus would be the scissors to cut my list short. I will never forget the pit I felt in my stomach after reading the subject line “Important Forthcoming SUNY Announcement” minutes after waking up on March 3rd. I was met with feelings of frustration and disbelief. There was no way this could have been happening. The semester just began and I still had so many things I wanted to see and do. I was loving my classes, professors, and meeting students from other schools.

After setting aside my saddened feelings, I began to panic about the logistics of having

to return home before the country went into lock-down. Along with many other study abroad students, I felt like there was a lack of communicating how we would safely return home and continue the semester.

Within two days, I planned my return flight home to be with my family, figured out how my studio courses would be converted to an online platform, packed up my belongings, and made sure that my mental, physical, and emotional wellbeing were balanced.

Once I arrived home, I underwent two weeks of self-quarantine. I realized that the reason why I felt so strongly about having to leave on such short notice was because at the time, the only people I could relate with were those students who also had to flee Florence. My parents were still going to work and my sisters were continuing to attend school. In those first few days of my quarantine, life did not feel fair nor easy.

As my self-quarantine time advanced, the realization hit me that I should appreciate all of the amazing opportunities encountered during those five weeks in Europe and that I was able to make it home safely prior to the travel bans implemented. When others were quickly impacted by the spread and severity of the virus, it became apparent to me that my situation was less critical. I applaud those individuals who have risked their lives on the frontlines in order to support their communities. I also have great respect for people who have made due after being furloughed and small business owners

who have offered their services to locals.

Experiencing the impact of COVID-19 has humbled me, made me grateful for all that I have, and allowed me to realize that not one person has been exempt from the negative effects of this global pandemic. Sure, missing out on a few adventures was unfortunate, but there are many people who have suffered far worse. The future is not predictable, but hopefully the aftermath of the coronavirus will lead to greater resilience in this world. ■