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I keep two sentimental mementos on my desk to remind me of two favorite men. There is an inkwell that my Uncle Seymour made, a brass grotesque he mounted on a marble base. And my grandfather's shaving cup is there, used to store pencils and pens.

When I was a child, I was always nicking my mum's jewellery to wear, and I loved to drape a massive Chinese shawl around me from our fancy-dress box. I was obsessed with a feather and rabbit-fur collar from the age of three and attempted to make one with my friend, whose father was a gamekeeper.

Pretty mundane closet, but a lot of ties. And I tend not to throw anything out, so I have a lot of clothes from all times from my life. I can be a little sentimental with things like that.

For me, wigs and hairpieces are an everyday part of my life. One day I can wear what I like to call my 'Back to you, Barbara' look - professional and full of layers - and the next day you may see me in my 'Bubblin' Brown Sugar' look - curly, fun and bubbly.

I was a tough kid with the jeans, the concert shirt with the flannel over it, the comb in the back pocket and the feathered hair.

When I was six, someone in my family gave me a yellow pencil holder that had my name printed on it. I still have it, and when I'm doing table work in rehearsal, I use it to carry my highlighters and other writing utensils. I love it.

Wigs have always been a part of my life and have become a staple accessory in my closet. I can remember being a little girl and hearing all the commotion in my house from my mom, aunts and grandmother when picking out their wigs for the day. It was such a good time for them and part of their everyday beauty routine.

I slipped at a bus stop; I went one way and my hair went the other. That was the end of my wig.

I have a necklace around my neck that my lady gave me, so I try never to leave home without that.