Cynthia Garbutt

Both my mother and aunts were modestas — the comparative equivalent in English of a dressmaker or seamstress — working from home for a very selective client base. In those days, petite and plus-sized women found it challenging to find clothes that fit their physiques, and their options for garments and accessories were very limited. (It wasn’t until the late 1970s that petite and plus-sized women’s clothing became widely available.) Their clients valued the craftsmanship of made-to-fit garments created from fabrics and components specifically chosen to complete each outfit. They remained loyal customers until my mother and aunts retired from their professions. After that, fast fashion — via overseas production imports — overtook artisanal garment making by this skilled slow-fashion sector of the business. Some of my earliest childhood memories are of sitting on the sofa beside my mother, stringing strands of faux pearls for a bridal lace headpiece. My tiny, nimble fingers were quick and adept at this skill. By age seven, I was using my mother’s 50-year-old Singer industrial sewing machine. I continued to grow my hand- and machine-sewing skills (I was also taught embroidery and crocheting) by observing and being challenged to make and design more complex garments for myself. My dream as a teenager was to become a fashion designer. However, back in the 1970s, New York City was the place to be for fashion and everything else — and my parents said, “No.” Just before I graduated from high school, my mother and eldest brother opened a home fashions and furniture atelier where I became an apprentice. During this time, I also attended an HBCU and earned a degree in commercial interior design and architectural technology, which became my career for over 20 years. Later, I moved to London, UK, to pursue acting. While acting and being a support artist, I also worked as a model — in fitting rooms, showrooms, and expos. During my downtime, while waiting for garments to be ready for fittings, I observed and learned about the business and practices of the fashion industry. That experience inspired me to consider launching my own fashion brand. However, some of the industry’s standards — namely wastefulness and exploitation — never sat well with me. Throughout my life, I’ve watched my family create, craft, and fabricate countless projects, and I never once saw wastefulness or exploitation. I’ve always kept an eye on, and my heart in, women’s fashion — and a bit of men’s as well — since I grew up in a mostly male household and worked in architecture, a male-dominated profession. Structure, detailing, and tailoring are an inherent part of my design psyche. Come to think of it, the first toy I chose as a seven-year-old was a Spirograph — so even then, geometry was an integral part of my creativity. I spent 13 years in London before returning to the U.S. Unable to manifest the creative career I was seeking, I moved to South Beach, Florida, and hit the ground running with my sustainable, artisanal, fashion and lifestyle brand, The New Zion, which features designs for women, men, and the home.