Sylvia was not visible to the two women in the next aisle at the drugstore. But she could hear that they were gossiping about her daughter. By now the “discussions” around town about Sister Daisy, were quite commonplace. Though Sylvia had named her daughter Heather, the child had taken the name Sister Daisy, from a reggae singer.

No one in the rural Minnesota town paid much attention to reggae singers but an eyebrow or two were raised when Sister Daisy began sporting a matted hairstyle called “dreadlocks,” which did not seem to fit her once lovely blonde hair. Everything from her piercings to her strange outfits were fodder for the gossip mill.

Though Sister Daisy was actually a great kid who helped out around the house, Sylvia was uncomfortable with the gossip. But oh how things had changed. Sister Daisy had just landed on the television show, “Project Runway,” where she was competing to win money to follow her dreams of a fashion designing career. During introductions, Sister Daisy had cried while telling Heidi Klum how she had always felt odd because people around her hadn’t always understood her vision. And in a burst of sudden insight, she looked toward the ceiling and cried out, “And now, I’m talking to Heidi Klum, how cool is that?”

“Okay, we only have time for one name here, do we call you Sister or do we call you Daisy?” said designer judge Michael Kors. To which Sister Daisy responded, “You can call me anything, this is the best day of my life.” And so, Daisy became her chosen name because it was easier. The women in the drugstore were rehashing this conversation when Sylvia overheard them. As the proud mother of a new celebrity, Sylvia made her way to the next aisle just so she could be seen and included in the conversation.

Within weeks, Daisy would be the center of attention as she kept winning challenges on the show. An outfit made of trash bags. A duct tape skirt. A prom dress from items in the average pantry. Who knew she could be so creative with garbanzo beans and pasta? Imagine that? Food you can wear. The town buzzed with both laughter and admiration as newspaper reporters and television cameras swept through, looking for new angles on the story. 

In the end Daisy was in the top three but she did not win outright. Still, her popularity had attracted investors who wanted to help her set up a fashion business. Would she go to New York? Los Angeles? Heck even Paris – though the French couture world was known for being snooty. Then Daisy decided she would set up her workshop right there in the town where she grew up. On her parents acreage. She would build a workroom with fabric storage space, office space and a kitchenette for catered client lunches. Her celebrity clients would love the fresh air and the chance to ditch the paparazzi. All she needed was a building to meet her needs. And of course, it was the folks at Sherman Pole Buildings who fielded the calls for the Sister Daisy House of Style.