The news caught me off guard today.
Designer Kate Spade, found dead in her Manhattan apartment.
And the first thing I did was text my daughter, because I knew Kate Spade was her favorite. Then I wished I hadn't texted, when I found out more about what happened. Because I knew that would make her even sadder.
There are multiple reports that the 55-year-old hanged herself with a scarf on a bedroom doorknob and left a note. Her housekeeper reportedly found the designer's body this morning inside 850 Park Avenue.
Spade burst onto the design scene in the early 90s with handbags and eventually expanded her empire to include bedding, china, wallpaper and shoes.
I'm not even sure I can list all the Kate Spade things I've bought (and I'm far from a fashionista)-
Sheets. Phone covers. Key chain. A teapot for a wedding gift.
All bought because of a look, a name, and because I knew they would make someone happy (even if that someone was me).
Her apparent suicide is again bringing the issue of depression to the forefront, along with information on how to get help-