June, you were a mentor and a friend to me.
When we met at Parsons, I was a rebellious punk rock kid in boots and braces who didn't care for fashion. I didn't understand the value of perception in the real world.
You told me (time and time again) that a first impression could make or break my goals, and I learned quickly that you were right. I spent my last dollar on a pencil skirt and a pair of heels for an interview at Pentagram, and I landed the job.
We kept in touch for all of the years after college and wrote letters back and forth. You told me you were ill, and we talked lots about the memoirs that you were writing. I knew that one day, one of my letters wouldn't be received, and I dreaded that day.
That day came when a lovely letter from your nephew arrived with your obituary. My heart sunk, but I was so glad you were at peace.
June, I owe you much.
Thank you for your friendship.