Growing up in a predominantly white town, I found myself surrounded by classmates with Northern European roots. Our community had a single Catholic church, and the cultural values leaned heavily towards thriftiness and tulips. My high school yearbook was a parade of Dutch and Swedish surnames, and the usual attire consisted of corduroy Levi’s paired with button-down shirts and Shetland sweaters, topped off by Topsiders. The girls from the lakeside homes sported Lilly Pulitzer.
In contrast, my style inspiration came from the pages of Vogue, a magazine I discovered at the age of 12. While haute couture was beyond my reach, the opulent spreads and dreamy photography by Deborah Turbeville captivated me. I was enchanted by the fresh ideas from emerging designers like Willi Smith and Perry Ellis. My mom would drop me off at the library while she ran errands, where I’d immerse myself in stacks of back issues, tracing the fashion evolution back to the vibrant styles of the ’60s and ’70s, featuring icons like Diana Ross.
My introduction to Diana Ross came through my Uncle Jim’s record collection. I fondly recall spinning “Meet the Supremes” and “The Supremes at the Copa” during summer visits. He eventually passed his Motown collection to me, and I cherished a biography that detailed Diana’s challenging upbringing in a Detroit tenement. I was fascinated by her resilience and flair. If sewing was good enough for her, it was good enough for me.
On a class trip to Detroit (Diana’s city!), I played the role of a girl of privilege, exploring upscale boutiques in the Renaissance Center. I tried on a linen Perry Ellis outfit, reveling in the quality of the fabric and design. Inspired, I used my babysitting money to buy pale pink linen and a Vogue pattern, crafting my own Perry Ellis-inspired jacket and culottes, which I wore to school with pride.
With Vogue as my muse, I created jodhpurs from soft baby corduroy, a lilac jumpsuit with epaulets paired with silver ballet flats, and a plaid flannel mini-dress that I styled with tights and cowboy boots. I even made a turquoise mini-skirt with built-in pantaloons and later crafted a puff-sleeved top and skirt out of gray sweatshirt fabric, reminiscent of Norma Kamali. While my creations were too avant-garde for my western Michigan high school, they fueled my dreams of escaping to New York or Paris, where personal style was celebrated and couture was revered. I aspired to be a bohemian fashionista.
One day, I received a brochure urging me to apply for a design program in Tokyo. Japan intrigued me; I had seen Issey Miyake and Rei Kawakubo’s stunning designs in Vogue, embodying a post-atomic aesthetic. Although I admired beautiful creations, I didn’t believe I had the talent to design them. I was more comfortable with words than with creating from scratch.
During my senior year, I earned a National Merit Scholarship and was featured in the local paper, sharing my dream of becoming a fashion magazine editor and writing books that would be part of school curriculums. In the accompanying photo, I donned a drop-waist dress with a double collar in a tiny green check, often accessorized with faux pearls, channeling my inner Coco Chanel. I selected the pattern, but my mom brought it to life.
College offered me the freedom to express my style without judgment. I sewed a flowing Issey Miyake dress and an architectural white linen shift. A female classmate borrowed one, and later a male roommate took it without asking, never to return it. I scoured vintage boutiques and thrift stores, filling my wardrobe with chic little black dresses and paisley shirts. At night, I danced at new wave clubs in a leopard-print jumper I made, topped with a wool fisherman’s cap and a rhinestone bracelet.
At 19, I made my way to New York City, where I explored Love Saves the Day, the iconic shop from Madonna’s “Desperately Seeking Susan.” My adventures continued in Paris, where I scored a timeless red dress. Eventually, I landed in Japan. When asked about my reasons for moving, I often mention my love for Heian Court poetry and my desire to gather experiences for future novels. I did write those novels, including one featuring an all-girl band covering songs by Diana Ross and The Supremes. While I didn’t become a fashion magazine editor, some of my books found their way into classrooms. Reflecting on my journey, I realize that my move to Japan was likely influenced by the designers I had discovered in Vogue.
I began my career as an assistant English teacher at a high school on Shikoku Island. With my first paycheck, I splurged on a black Issey Miyake jacket.
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In summary, my journey from a small town to the vibrant world of fashion and writing has been shaped by my inspirations from iconic figures and magazines. It highlights the power of dreams, creativity, and the importance of pursuing one’s passions.