“Please, sit.” I encourage her to take a seat in the plaid chair, and I sit down behind the counter at my stool.
“I don’t have to open for another hour. Can I order you some coffee? I can call next door. The diner next door has the best!”
“Oh my God, I know!” Emily says. “I’ve been there a few times. But I’m good. I’ve been up for a while. I think I’ve hit my caffeine quota already.”
Emily settles herself on the chair and opens up her bag. She dives in and proceeds to sort through the contents, pulling more items out of the mid-size satchel than seems reasonable, or even possible. A beat-up looking computer, knitting needles and a ball of yarn, a tangerine, a red, sandwich-size Tupperware container, a Van Gogh-printed travel umbrella and a self-help book titled,Go Your Own Way: The TrailBLAZEr’s Guide to Loveby Blaze Smith, are all set aside before she finds the items she’s looking for.
She emerges victorious with a small, black, moleskin notebook and a fountain pen. “Mind if I take notes?”
“Not at all,” I say.
For the next hour, Emily and I chat about the shop, drifting in and out of side conversations about Ephron, tacos, travel, and dating. She tells me the story of how she was recruited by her friend Alexis for the podcast, and I tell her about my hopes for Cookie’s social media account. We talk at length about the peekapoo and his Mr. Miyagi suit. Before I know it, sun is streaming through the front window and it’s almost time to open.
“Okay.” Emily sets down her pen. “I think I have what I need about the shop. I just want to ask you about these two specific outfits. I have screenshots from one of thePet Friends’message boards.
She holds out her phone to show me the suits. “Your prom queen dress and this chef’s toque?”
“Um … wait a minute.” I take the phone from her and zoom in on the photos. They are the same colors as my outfits and the same general styles. But they are NOT my costumes. “Where exactly did you say these were posted?”
“What? On thePet Friends’boards. Let me see if I can pull up the posts.”
I hand her back her phone and pick up my own. Dread is coursing through my veins. “Let me do an image search,” I say.
I hold my phone over one of the images on hers and snap.
Immediately, my screen fills with catalog images of dogs in costumes that are incredibly like my own. Same colors, same characters … but these are not my handmade creations. These are shoddily made, mass-produced knockoffs. The dollar amount they are selling for wouldn’t even cover my materials.
I click the link to see where it will take me.
When I realize that I have just landed on the home page of the Holm family’s flagship website, Farm & Holm Pet Supplies, I gasp.
“Are you okay?”
A lava-like pustule of outrage begins to form beneath my surface. I can feel it bubbling as I struggle to maintain my calm. I cannot let it ruin this interview, this opportunity.
“Those aren’t my designs,” I state, working overtime to keep the emotion out of my voice. “It appears that I’ve been copied.”
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry.” Emily’s face shows true horror. “Now I feel awful. I didn’t know.”
“Well, you know what they say about imitation …” I force my lips into the world’s least sincere smile and resist the urge to wipe away the sheen of sweat gathering on my forehead. Must keep my shit together! The last thing I need is for this article to suddenly turn into a puff piece about the adorable, cheap pet costumes available on the Farm & Holm site.
“I won’t link to them,” Emily says, reading my thoughts. Clearly, I’m not as good at hiding my emotions as I should be. “That’s really shitty of them to knock you off. You should probably get a lawyer.”
“Honestly, I’m not sure I can afford one,” I admit. “Or that it would do much good.”
Odds are I’d spend more than I would recover. I am not the first designer to be knocked off. I’ve been hearing stories like this from our artists for years. Those who pursued legal action were rarely successful against corporate giants like Farm & Holm. Proving your idea is the original is an expensive and lengthy process. Crushingly so for small, independent artists like me.
Any last hopes I’ve been holding on to that the article will somehow mitigate the effect of the rent hike evaporate.
“Thanks for not linking to them.” I force myself to meet Emily’s concerned hazel eyes. “I appreciate that.” She returns my gaze with a nod, then looks down at her watch.
“Look at the time! It’s almost time for you to open. I’m sorry I kept you so long.”
Emily begins stuffing items back into her magical bag. It’s really a marvel. Like something out ofHarry Potter. If only magic were real. Then I could conjure up a way to repay the mortgage while still making rent and paying for the shelter.
“For what it’s worth, I love what you’re doing here,” Emily says, as she shakes out and refolds her beautiful scarf. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
What I want to say is, “You can write an exposé on the evils of Farm & Holm Co.” But I keep my mouth shut. I know better. Farm & Holm is a major advertiser inPet Friendsmagazine.
