pull up a chair,

The story of Norma Jean

Every family has one person who is the sun. Ours is my grandmother, Norma Jean.

She's the woman who keeps snacks in her purse for strangers' kids. Who tells the cashier she likes her earrings and means it. Who never once, in my whole life, let me leave her house without hearing that I was beautiful, that I was loved, and that I should take a sweater.

Where the clothes come in

Grandma believed getting dressed was an act of optimism. A good outfit wasn't vanity to her — it was how you told the day you were showing up for it. Growing up, my Grandma took care of my brother and me while our mom worked during the day. Like every other middle and highschooler, I loved to sleep in... I can still hear her now, "Kimmy, you better get out of bed. It's 10am, you've already wasted half of the day! Get up and get some nice clothes on so you're ready for what the day has to offer."

So when I dreamed up a boutique, there was never a question about the name, or the spirit. Every piece here is chosen by one test: would Norma stop a woman on the street to compliment this? If it's hanging in this shop, the answer was yes.

The hard part of the story

Several years ago, Grandma was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease.

If your family has walked this road, you know: it changes everything, and it changes nothing. She is still the sun. She still compliments strangers. Some days she doesn't remember that our kids aren't babies anymore, and we get to tell her what they are doing in high school and adulthood all over again, and watch her light up like it's the first time.

What I learned in those years — about the research that needs funding, and about how desperately caregiving families need support — became the second half of this shop's purpose. I've watched as my mom, aunt, and uncle rotate daily visits, manage my Grandma's medications, take her to appointments, ensure her heat or air confitioning are still on, and repeatedly plug in her home phone. The list is never ending. She doesn't remember where I live anymore, and she doesn't remember my husband's name most of the time. I reintroduce them almost every visit. Sometimes my Grandma knows her brain is deteriorating, and sometimes she doesn't. It's extremely heartbreaking to watch, but the time with her is still a blessing. Sometimes she does some things that are so out of character. And, sometimes we have to laugh at things, because if we don't, well... we'll for sure cry.

Alzheimer's may take my Grandma's memory, but it will never steal the sunshine that she is and always has been for our family.

with love, Kimmy