(Credit: Collin Richie)

I am going to ask you to apply for my job. It’s true. This whole thing is to convince you to take a risk and apply to be Dig’s new fashion editor. The position is open, you would have almost unlimited creative control, and you would have the opportunity to dress mannequins for a part-time wage in a weekly experience that is, quite frankly, reminiscent of playing with dolls and writing about it. This shouldn’t be a hard sell, and I’m going to wear you down and pump you up by the end, like a tire with the potential to roll.

To begin with, you should know that I never applied for this job myself. I applied to be the copy editor, was hired, and happened to be in the room when former editor Dave Lewis was thinking of doing something new with fashion. Stunned at being asked, I took a moment to consider. Like a poster lady for our generation, I had marched into the job market with a liberal arts degree and no idea what to do with it. I was eager to try anything even remotely related to my field. To reiterate what former entertainment editor Christie Matherne said so well in her exit interview, a degree in creative writing, or any liberal arts degree for that matter, is really one in “creative living.” If you had a good teacher in college, or in life for that matter, he or she set you up for a certain degree of failure, but encouraged you to take risks based on keen intuition and to allow your plans to remain fluid. People who take risks are much more likely to figure out what they want in a timely way – or at least by retirement. I have had many good teachers, and so I laughed at Dave, threw my arms in the air, and said,

“Sure. Why not?”

We want you to ask, “Why not?” Since that hesitant moment of saying “yes,” I have developed a stronger point of view. Boutique managers and owners helped me realize that I wanted to run a business someday, interviewing women on the street taught me to communicate ideas more concisely, seeing unique clothing sold in different parts of the city allowed me to hold a mirror to Baton Rouge neighborhoods and ask, “How do these people live?”

My selfish wish for Fashion Editor 2.0 is that we find someone independent, funny, curious, and kind, who laughs with discomfort when called “fashionable” and would never have initially considered applying for the job in the first place.

We want someone special for this position, but we aren’t yet crying out in day-before-prom desperation, and so we’re pulling a maneuver that many singles have mastered. We are initiating a stare down and are taking a break from the whole scene. We are like Kimbra and you are like Gotye and we do have to cut you off. Fashion is taking a summer hiatus to give me time to figure out where to buy groceries (for those who don’t know, this is a long-distance letter from Chicago, Illinois!) and to give you time to hone your resume and to find the best way to show us your chops. Send us a video, show us the sketches from your new clothing line, send us clippings from your school newspaper, but, more than anything, please consider sending us a brave application with a small amount of experience and a large amount of drive. We will take you seriously and you will be glad you got in touch. If you are already a fashion writer with a blog, a camera, or a dream, consider accepting money for it. Creative living requires money, too. Apply to Editor@DigBatonRouge.com.