I grew up as a fairly poor kid in, you know, Toronto, Canada. I don't think I owned any new clothes until I was, like, 15 or something. They were all second-hand and forged from paper.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I started dressing vintage when I was a teenager because I didn't have money for designer clothes.
At 13, I was wearing plain t-shirts. Then I used to steal my mom's clothing. She had all these crushed-velvet shirts with French-cut sleeves. And, like, seersucker bell-bottoms.
When I became a mum myself, I really struggled to find great kids' clothes. Everything was either gorgeous but impossible to actually get open to change a nappy and expensive or poor quality.
I did not have any money, so when I came to New York, I just dressed myself with whatever I could find and the Army-Navy store.
I've spent a lot on clothes. I'm not kidding when I say I could have bought several country homes with the money. I've also given a lot away over time. I had a lovely Yves Saint Laurent jacket that I'd only worn once or twice, but I'm one for spring cleaning rather than storing my clothes.
We've forgotten to respect clothes and consider who made them and where the material came from. We've been encouraged to buy things and, if we don't like them, bin them. When I grew up, we'd repair things or alter them.
We only got clothing once a year, like, right before school began. It's like, that's when you got your clothing.
Clothes were terribly important in the '20s. They really were an arbiter of who you were and how much money you had: an indicator of social status.
I don't spend much money on clothes; I never did.
I grew up in a small town in Washington State, so I wasn't really aware of costume design as a career growing up, but I loved clothes. I remember I saved all my money, and the first thing that I bought was a white blazer, which was to the horror to my parents. But I have always had a strange connection with clothing.