When I was in high school, I made wallpaper from the fashion pages of Vogue for the Schiap-pink room I kept in my grandmother's house. In the early sixties, Vogue came out twice a month. I was so naive, I didn't think I could subscribe to the magazine, but in any case, every other Sunday after church, I enjoyed walking to the newsstand on the Duke University campus with my allowance to buy it. I would come home, tear out my favorite images, and pin-tack them to the walls. This was not my bedroom but a sanctuary, with a beautiful mahogany desk and modern sofa, that my grandmother had created for me—a place where I could read, listen to records, and escape to my own world. That world was papered with images from Vogue. One Sunday, on my way to East Campus, a group of white male students sped by, throwing rocks at me from the car. I kept walking—and it never stopped me from taking that walk to buyVogue twice a month.
Everyone has his or her own story... You know, the story of how they figured out fashion was their biggest passion and went along to pursue it in some way. So, tell me: what's yours?
