Growing up in a predominantly white town, I was surrounded by classmates whose ancestry traced back to Northern European countries. Our local culture was steeped in thriftiness and a love for tulips, with a single Catholic church serving the community. My high school yearbook was filled with Dutch and Swedish surnames, and the typical attire consisted of corduroy Levi’s paired with button-down shirts and Shetland sweaters, while the affluent girls sported Lilly Pulitzer outfits.
In contrast, my fashion inspirations came from the pages of Vogue, a magazine I began devouring at the age of twelve. While haute couture was beyond my financial reach, the stunning photography and innovative designs of young creators like Willi Smith and Perry Ellis sparked my imagination. I would often persuade my mother to drop me off at the public library, where I would lose myself in stacks of vintage issues, diving into a world that featured icons like Diana Ross—one of my early style muses.
My first encounter with Diana Ross was through my Uncle Jack’s vinyl collection, where I would listen to albums like Meet the Supremes during summer visits. Eventually, I inherited his Motown records. According to the biography I cherished, Diana’s humble beginnings in Detroit, where she fought off rats with a bow and arrow and crafted her own garments, resonated deeply with me. If she could sew, then I could too.
On a school trip to Detroit, which was Diana’s hometown, I fancied myself a girl of means and explored upscale boutiques in the Renaissance Center. I tried on a linen outfit by Perry Ellis just to experience the luxurious fabric against my skin. Shortly thereafter, armed with babysitting earnings, I purchased pale pink linen and a Vogue pattern, crafting my own jacket and culottes that I proudly wore to school.
Motivated by Vogue, I created various outfits, including jodhpurs from baby corduroy, a lilac jumpsuit adorned with epaulets, and a plaid flannel mini-dress. My creations were often deemed too flamboyant for my conservative high school in Western Michigan. Instead of conforming to the status quo, I dreamed of escaping to cities like New York and Paris, where individuality and high fashion reigned supreme.
An enticing brochure arrived in the mail, inviting me to apply for a design program in Tokyo. The allure of Japan was undeniable, especially after viewing the avant-garde designs of Issey Miyake and Rei Kawakubo in Vogue. Although I admired beautiful things, I lacked the confidence to consider myself a designer. I preferred to appreciate art through observation and words.
In my senior year, I received a National Merit Scholarship and shared my aspirations with a local newspaper, expressing my desire to become a fashion magazine editor and author books that would be included in school curricula. In the accompanying photo, I wore a charming drop-waist dress with a double collar, which I often accessorized with faux pearls, reminiscent of Coco Chanel, though my mother had sewn it from a pattern I chose.
College provided the freedom to express my style without judgment. I crafted an airy Issey Miyake dress and a distinctive double-seamed linen shift. A female classmate borrowed one of my creations, but it was my male roommate who took one without asking, never to return it. I scavenged vintage boutiques and charity sales, filling my closet with timeless pieces. Nights out were spent dancing in a leopard-print jumpsuit I had sewn myself, paired with a wool cap and a sparkling bracelet.
At 19, I ventured to New York City, shopping at Love Saves the Day, a store featured in Madonna’s film Desperately Seeking Susan, and later journeyed to Paris, where I found a red dress that remains a staple in my wardrobe. Eventually, I moved to Japan, citing my passion for Heian Court poetry as my motivation, alongside the need to gain experience for future novels. Although I didn’t become a fashion magazine editor, I did write novels, including one centered on an all-girl band covering Diana Ross and the Supremes. Reflecting on my journey, I believe my relocation to Japan was significantly influenced by the designers I admired in Vogue.
I secured a position as an assistant English teacher on Shikoku Island, and with my first paycheck, I treated myself to a chic black Issey Miyake jacket.
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In summary, my passion for fashion and self-expression has been a lifelong journey, intertwined with my aspirations for writing and creativity. While my path diverged from the expected, I have found fulfillment in both my literary pursuits and diverse experiences abroad.