Growing up in a predominantly white town, where my classmates hailed from Northern European roots, I often found myself yearning for a more colorful world. Our local Catholic church stood as a solitary institution, while the rest of us embraced cultures steeped in thriftiness and tulips. My high school yearbook was a tapestry of Dutch and Swedish surnames. The typical attire? Corduroy Levi’s paired with button-down shirts and Shetland sweaters, while the girls by the lake sported vibrant Lilly Pulitzer dresses.
In stark contrast, I looked to Vogue for my fashion inspiration, a magazine I had fallen in love with at the age of 12. Although the haute couture was well beyond my budget, the dreamy spreads and the captivating photography of Deborah Turbeville filled me with a creative spark. I would often convince my mom to drop me off at the library while she ran errands, devouring back issues from the ’60s and ’70s, a time when Diana Ross, one of my style icons, graced the pages.
My introduction to Diana came through my Uncle Joe’s vinyl collection. During summer visits, I would spin records like “Meet the Supremes” and “The Supremes at the Copa.” Eventually, he passed his Motown collection to me. A biography I cherished revealed Diana’s tough beginnings in a Detroit tenement, where she fought rats and crafted her own outfits. Her resilience inspired me. If sewing was good enough for Diana, it was good enough for me.
On a school trip to Detroit—Diana’s city—I played the part of a well-off girl, exploring upscale boutiques in the Renaissance Center. I even tried on a linen Perry Ellis outfit just to savor the luxury fabric against my skin. Soon after, I purchased pale pink linen and a Vogue pattern with my babysitting earnings, crafting my own Perry Ellis-inspired jacket and culottes, which I wore to school with what I believed was flair.
Drawing inspiration from Vogue, I conjured up whimsical outfits like jodhpurs made from soft baby corduroy and a lilac jumpsuit with epaulets, perfectly styled with silver ballet slippers. I also created a plaid, ruffled mini-dress and a turquoise mini-skirt with built-in pantaloons. However, my bold fashion choices often raised eyebrows in the halls of my Western Michigan high school. Instead of toning down my style, I dreamed of escaping to cities like New York and Paris, where individuality and couture were celebrated.
One day, a brochure arrived, inviting me to apply for a design program in Tokyo. Japan sounded fascinating! I had seen the stunning works of Issey Miyake and Rei Kawakubo in Vogue, with their avant-garde designs that captivated me. Although I adored beautiful clothing, I wasn’t sure I had what it took to be a designer myself; I preferred admiring and creating while following directions.
In my senior year, I won a National Merit Scholarship and was interviewed by a local paper. In the spotlight, I shared my aspirations of becoming a fashion magazine editor and a novelist, hoping my books would one day be part of school curriculums. In the accompanying photo, I sported a charming drop-waist dress with a double collar, paired with faux pearls in honor of Coco Chanel, a look crafted by my mother from my chosen pattern.
College was a revelation; I finally had the freedom to express my style without judgment. I created an airy Issey Miyake dress and a minimalist white linen shift, which a classmate and later a male roommate borrowed without permission (never to be seen again). My closet overflowed with treasures from vintage shops and thrift sales, including little black dresses and paisley shirts. Nights were spent dancing in a leopard-print jumpsuit I whipped up on my trusty Singer machine.
At 19, I ventured to New York City, shopping at Love Saves the Day, a store featured in Madonna’s “Desperately Seeking Susan.” Paris followed, where I scored a fabulous red dress that still hangs in my closet. Eventually, I made my way to Japan. When asked about my journey, I often mention my love for Heian Court poetry and the need for experiences to enrich my future novels. And yes, I did write novels, including one featuring an all-girl band that covered Diana Ross’s hits. While I didn’t become a fashion magazine editor, some of my works are now part of classroom discussions. Reflecting back, I realize my move to Japan was likely influenced by the designers I had discovered in Vogue.
I took a position as an assistant English teacher at a high school on Shikoku and celebrated my first paycheck with a chic black Issey Miyake jacket. If you’re curious about home insemination or fertility topics, check out this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination at the Center for Reproductive Health. And if you’re looking for ways to improve fertility, consider exploring these fertility boosters for men.
In a nutshell, my journey through fashion has been an adventure of self-discovery, creativity, and aspiration—one that has shaped not only my style but also my identity.