Let me paint the scene for you: it was a late night in the design studio and there was a big ol' ugly deadline looming. My work table was covered with a layer of supplies, tools, candy wrappers and empty coffee cups and I had the music turned up extra loud in the hope that it would keep me upright in my chair. The system was on shuffle and I had the remote by my side so I could fast-forward past anything without a beat that pulsed as frenetically as the blood pulsing through my veins. Then, just when I thought I couldn't work another second more, just when I was going to give up hope of finishing, just when I decided that the collection I had created looked like dribble and I needed to scrap everything and start over....an angel's voice came roaring out of the speakers and Sylvester appeared in the studio as resplendent as the fairest (and fairy-est) of Fairy God-Mothers. This was my kind of saintly visit. A towering vision of sequins and lip gloss, flatteringly backlit and surrounded by a smoky glow.....s/he asked me "do ya wanna funk?" and with those four words I saw the (disco) light as if my trusty industrial work lamp had transformed into a mirrored ball and I knew deep down in my rainbow-colored heart that everything would be just fine.