March 2020 was the month I cried myself to sleep every night. 

Between tears, death tolls, and hilarious coronavirus memes, I stewed on about what would be. On how my children's lives would irrevocably change and how ill-prepared I was to parent them in this new normal. 

It was out of despair and desperation that I wanted and needed to make this moment better for my children. I couldn't fathom mask-wearing in all its clinical glory as a reality for my family, so I created something better: the first-ever shirt with a mask attached for kids (and grownups).

It's called the Shmask! Shirt meets mask. It is super duper soft, breathable, adjustable, and just so easy to wear. 

If you know me, you know I've traveled with a pack of sanitizing wipes in my purse for the last ten years. My elaborate cleansing of all airplane surfaces around my seat is a source of embarrassment to anyone who's traveled with me.  

Suddenly, I felt validated.  

If I had a dollar for every time I barked at my children not to touch anything in a public bathroom, I'd probably have an extra $30,000.  

None of this eased my nerves. I stayed home. I quit my job as a film professor. I came up with the most elaborate routines to properly cleanse our Instacart groceries and Amazon packages. My hands were so dry that I even started to sanitize the sanitizer.  

And turns out I hate Zoom. I especially hate it when the image freezes and my four-year-old daughter walks away from the screen but all her classmates get to see me in my pajamas. Without a bra on. I really hate it when it is the only means to console my grieving cousins on the loss of their father.

I put out a question on my Instagram story.  "Would you rather send your children to school in a mask or keep them at home?" 70% opted to send them in masks. The thought was unimaginable to me.  I resolved to keep mine home. Maybe. I might miss the world though, probably. 

But then time went on, and well, it turns out I suck at being a school teacher. And, frankly, after cooking three meals and three snacks a day, doing all the laundry and dishes all the time, I'm not my most awesome self. Also, my kids needed other kids and other grown-ups who know the answers to things without asking Alexa first. Incidentally, Alexa knows a lot about space.

And then, we needed to renovate. A burst pipe left brown water stains across our ceiling which was a real eyesore in every single Zoom angle. Also, my kitchen was a relic of the ‘90s, and I couldn't fathom the idea of spending another six months home-bound cooking in that cave of a room.  

An impromptu road trip meant we were suddenly doing things well outside my comfort zone. Hotels. Shared elevators. Public bathrooms. People. Lots of people. 

The kids and their masks were such a source of stress. The little one dropped hers on the street and found it 20 minutes later with evidence of heavy foot traffic. My oldest kept playing with it despite touching every surface imaginable first. And my middle son had a habit of putting his on backward.  

At this point, I'm out in the world, and I'm living the challenge of required mask-wearing with three young kids. I'm experiencing how that looks for my family of five and for my in-laws who were with us.  And, it's a pain in the ass.  It could be better, so I set out to make it so.

But here's the thing: aside from pouring over every Vogue issue my mom got in the 80s, and a brief stint as an intern at Harper's Bazaar, I had zero experience in fashion. I loved it though and always have. And I knew the idea was good. So good that I was afraid to tell people who could do it faster and better than me.  

And then something supremely magical happened. I started asking "friends" on Facebook questions. 

"Are any of you in the T-shirt business?" 

"Does anyone know any patent lawyers?" 

I peppered these in-between images of my dream kitchen and asking for advice on which oven range to buy.  And you know what? People answered me! Lots of opinions on kitchen appliances, but also introductions. Offers of time chatting, getting into how they run their own business, and how I could create mine.  

I would look to my husband at night—as we clacked away on our laptops with Friends reruns in the background—and I would say, "I'm not sure what good I've done in this life, but well it's nice to know people will help me when I ask." And they did.  

My friends who have ever worked in fashion or who’s input I love would come over in the evening and sit six feet apart on my patio, in their masks, and watch my children model my first Shmask prototypes. They would chime in on the pros and cons of design.  

I'll never forget the resounding theme of one of those wonderful conversations. They all agreed: comfort trumped all. A comfortable shirt meant compliance. Compliance with an otherwise alien behavior. If it was soft, breathable, and we could hear their little voices, then they would wear it. And they wouldn’t mind. Neither would we. 

So began a slew of conversations with factories, brokers, consultants, and fabric mills. This was also a pain in the ass, and not what eight-year-old me dreamed being a fashion designer would be. 

But then my kids would hear me say that they inspired me. I called them my business partners. Mostly, they were reluctant models. But really, they are my muses. It’s their soft cheeks and little noses I want to protect. It’s all of ours. I’m so motivated and so proud to make something that makes this super weird moment a bit softer. And now I hear my kids tell their classmates in Zoom that their mom created something. Something they are proud of too. 

Shmask isn’t my first business, but it’s the first time I’ve felt so supported, not just by my family, but by a community of parents who love their children as much as I do. And as much as mask-wearing has been politicized, it’s also been required. And if it’s required, then I want the Shmask to make it easier. 

I am a woman of many ideas. Many, many ideas. My husband, also an entrepreneur, will always say, “The idea is nothing without the execution,” which is true. But, also, execution can’t happen without motivation, and that motivation was ever-present as we navigated this new normal.

So during a baffling pandemic, in the middle of a stressful home renovation, on an unplanned road trip, I developed the Shmask: a shirt-meets-mask concept that guarantees a safe and hassle-free solution for families and their kids.   

The shirt has an attached-face covering made of soft and breathable fabric with enough space in the nose and mouth area for kids to breathe and speak easily. There is a dip in the back, so it can seamlessly be worn or taken off. With the attached-face covering, Shmask helps eliminate the issue of kids complying with today's mask requirements. They can't lose it, drop it, trade it with their friends, or forget it at home. 

About the Author: In addition to being a mom of three, founder Karine Nissim, is also a three-time entrepreneur, an award-winning filmmaker, and professor and the co-founder of DogVacay (which is now called Rover, the “Airbnb for pets”). Shmask started as a passion project to help keep her kids safe during this super weird time. This is the first product of a broader line of apparel for luxe family living called Karine. Super soft clothing that solves the hard problems of our new world. Think protective layers, breathable fabrics, clothes that we can all play and work in, from pick up and drop-offs, Zoom meetings, park play dates, to workouts! You and your fam can look Insta-ready and feel pajama-party good.

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