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 Expect the unexpected
What can you expect from your time studying abroad? Adrian Kiger shares her fashion student experience It was my dream to live abroad. Many friends who had had the foresight to take the plunge and spend their school years abroad in high-school or college enjoyed, in my opinion, an experience that not only enriched their lives, but set them apart from the rest. I admired these people growing up and considered them not only more “worldly and interesting” but observed that their paradigms were far more broad than that of the average American's. I wanted, in essence, to never look back on my life without having lived in a foreign country, learned a foreign language and experienced what it was like to be in the minority. I certainly got what I wished for when I moved to Florence, Italy at age 26 with two all-too-large suitcases, my certificate for being an official Teacher of English as a Foreign Language, and an Italian vocabulary that could barely get me a hotel room upon arrival. Call it blind faith or simply stupidity, taking the leap certainly proved to be the adventure I was hoping for, and oh so much more. My expectation was that everything was going to be fabulous. Well, lo and behold everything, even in Italy, is still life. It has its' ups and downs, twists and turns, with only your instincts to guide you. After one year of teaching English and selling my handmade handbags in Florence, I was hooked on Italy. The art, the antiquity, the landscape, the lifestyle, and the language all seemed to mesh harmoniously with my personality. It was then that I decided that I wanted to stay in Italy and return to school for a Masters Degree. My interest for the handmade “artigianato” goods that were abundant in Italy further sparked my interest for becoming more honed in my own craft. So I moved to Milan, Italy's Mecca for moda (fashion) and design, and enrolled in an esteemed fashion school to obtain a Masters in Accessories Design. The school, and I will refrain from mentioning names, offered an eight-month Masters program in subjects varying from Fashion Styling to Fashion Buyer. Famous professionals had attended this reputable and well-marketed Milan “Moda School” and I was ready for the doors to the world of Italian fashion to be opened for me, at the very least, I was hoping, praying and paying (a lot, I may add) to be stimulated and inspired beyond my wildest dreams. I was hoping to meet the mentor or take the class that would bring out all of the beautiful creations I knew were spinning around in my overactive brain. Oh Italia - the beauty, the design, the fashion, a Masters Degree, the international students that would be there, the stimulation I would feel from professors who were professionals in their fields -it all made for a perfect picture, then I arrived. Yes, all of the brochures had clearly stated that this was a theory-based program not a hands on, and we would not be making purses, shoes, belts and other delightful accessories but rather, designing (drawing) collections. OK. I was ready to pick up my pantone. The only problem was that I had never done so. Literally, sketching my designs had not previously been a part of my “process.” But I was ready to learn. The school had accepted me on the basis of photographs that I had taken of bags that I made. I suppose they saw my potential or was it my potential to pay that they saw? Regardless, I came to the school with the expectation that it was going to make me into a “designare straordinario,” a “designer extraordinaire.” My classes were filled with students, mostly adorable Asian perfectionists decked in the latest Prada garb who had been studying accessories and better yet drawing them for years. The drawn shoe that looked absolutely real was something these girls would stay up all night to achieve. Meanwhile, I was still trying to manoeuvre the pantone to express my inner visions. I was way behind from the get-go and willing to give it my all yet there was little support from the sidelines. My teacher greeted each of my designs with a condescending smile mixed with latin-lady furor. I half expected her to clap her hands in my face and stamp her Vuitton heals many a time. How dare I show her something so “last season,” a phrase she often used to describe my themes. On top of it all she didn't seem to believe in me. And I thought that I had paid her to do so! What I hadn't counted on when I came to the school with stars in my eyes was reality. The reality that I was not so thrilled about my professors who, as Italians, seemed to have an entirely different approach to teaching than my American professors. This being an attitude of “if you need me I am here, other than that I am not going to actively teach you.” Also, there were only four computers for over four hundred students to use for checking email with no scanners or printers on the premises, the closet-sized library did not allow you to check books out, the “extras” we were expected to buy ended up costing a fortune in themselves, the teachers showed up late for classes and on and on. Collectively, the students in these Masters programs were outraged, and the lot of us constantly complained about the school's shortcomings. We all pretty much felt as though we had been ripped off big time. Every time you ran into someone in the hallway or out at an aperativo, they were more than willing to offer up their story of disappointment, myself included. After the year ended, while fellow students scrambled to find unpaid internships, I was fortunate enough to obtain, by dint of a connection, a paid position doing international relations with the United States for another all-together different art and design school in Milan. This school was not like mine had been, it had heart. It didn't have fancy facilities or the coolest brochure, but it had a dedicated staff who loved students and loved art. Part of my job was to counsel the some fifty or so foreign students and help them with the adjustment issues that I knew all too well myself. Many of them had the same complaints that me and my classmates had had about our school the year before; the facilities, the personalities of certain teachers, on and on. Every time one of them came into my office and whined to me I watched myself get annoyed, only to realise that I was annoyed that they were not doing what I had not done the previous year. So I told them, “you are not asking enough of yourself.” They looked at me like “what are you talking about?” and I simply said that nothing is ever what you think that it is going to be. And this is just a general rule in life. So, when you are not getting what you wanted, try to change your perspective and get what you need. You know the song. In essence, it is about always trying to look at the glass half-full; you have the opportunity to study in a foreign country, something many people only dream about doing and you are having an experience that may not be what you had envisioned, but nevertheless it is one that will be with you for the rest of your life so make it a good one. No matter what. Even if it costs you friendships with certain energy-sucking people, or makes you work harder to find the inspiration you were expecting to just automatically receive. Look at everyday that you have abroad as a gift and an opportunity. Expect only the absolutely unexpected and you will never remain disappointed. My advice to anyone who dreams of studying abroad
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