We got you.

Stories of Kindness: Gabby & Brad @ Patagonia

In the last month I’ve gone out to replace a wide range of items we lost in the fire. Some of these items carry meaning far beyond the simple, physical object.

For example, I needed to replace a winter coat from Patagonia.

This coat hung in a closet just off the front door of our home in the Palisades, and it ranked towards the top of the things I wish we saved from the house. I wore this jacket to my daughter’s high school soccer games, where the Pali stadium could feel as cold as the Chicago winters where I grew up.

I always felt warm in this coat - and came to realize that I also felt safe and cared for when wearing it. Replacing this coat became deeply important to me, for reasons I still don’t understand fully.

I drove to the Patagonia store in Santa Monica two days after the fire. It was closed - this company takes care of its own, and recognized that its employees were themselves figuring out how to stay safe with the raging winds and fires.

I returned the following Monday to find the store closed for MLK Day. Good for them, but I felt deflated.

The store reopened by the time I got back over to Santa Monica. Tears formed in my eyes walking in. It was difficult to approach anyone - it was hard to ask stores if their company was doing anything to help those who lost homes. By this time many brands had suspended their support efforts.

I walked to a quiet corner of the store to grab a breath, and looked up to see an associate approaching me asking if I was OK.

Brad listened to me share what happened to our family. He told me that Patagonia overall - and this Santa Monica store in particular - were committed to supporting me and my family for as long as it would take for us to get back on our feet. I felt cared for and protected.

Not only did Brad listen to my story, he shared his own experience standing on the beach watching the fires rip down the hill where he used to live, and where his wife’s school used to stand. Exchanging this shared experience changed my sense of loneliness and isolation. This is a collective trauma, and Brad didn’t try to compare his experience to mine.

He connected me to his colleague, Gabby, to help find a winter jacket. I’ll never forget the kindness she gifted me, the tears in her eyes hearing my family’s story, the focus she gave to me throughout my halting attempt to find a replacement for an item that had taken on much more importance than just a coat.

A rushed customer physically elbowed me aside to get Gabby’s attention for help finding a vest. As he continued to bump me out of the way to get help, I asked for some space, sharing that she was helping me after I had lost my house. “Everyone has bad days,” he exclaimed, frustrated that he would need to find another associate to help. Gabby held my eyes after this last exchange, which helped me take a breath and not lose my temper. Deep wells of anger and grief have filled up over the last weeks - and I’m grateful it didn’t spill over in the store.

Over the next weeks Gabby and Brad kept their promise to me and my family: they were the first to state, “we got you.” Over the last weeks this became a refrain I’ve heard over and again.

They helped us replace gear lost in the fires - and while I want to downplay the importance of stuff, I have to remind myself that stuff is important when all your stuff just burned.

But as importantly, they remembered our names when we return to the store. Their constant kindness and acknowledgment make us feel cared for. We already respected and valued Patagonia as a company, even using it for branded gear for our company. This respect for the company and its employees will last for a lifetime.