Lynn Yaeger On Style
I just bumped into Lynn Yaeger outside of the Louvre (did I just write that?!?!?) in the kind of cosmic fashion meeting one can only dream of. After collecting my positively star-struck self, I stopped her to say how much I admire her, and she was even more lovely than I could have imagined. The whole thing just about made my life. Then, on my walk home, I realized we haven't talked about Ms. Yaeger here, which changes now, with a few of her musings on style. May we all have the courage and creativity to be so authentically true to ourselves.
"I always wanted to look like you can’t really tell what these clothes are; maybe they’re old, maybe they’re cheap or maybe they cost a fortune. I wanted to have this mystery about it and not just wear the latest fashion trend. I would always try to have a signature expensive handbag so I didn’t just look like a nut if I was going to interview someone. People are afraid to be different, but authenticity really does give you a lot of confidence."
- via The Huffington Post
"The gulf between the reality of my looks and the cultural ideal only widened when I began to work in the fashion industry. Early on, I decided to ignore the industry's dictates—so stifling, unattainable, judgmental—and make my own rules. I had long admired women with strong signature looks—Anna Piaggi, Diana Vreeland, Isabella Blow—for whom the fashion world seemed to make an exception. And I found myself reaching far outside the box for role models: to the women in Pre-Raphaelite paintings (those floaty clothes suited my physique far better than jeans and a T-shirt); to silent-movie heroines (their pale complexions were easy for me to replicate); even to Victorian dolls (whose round faces and rosebud mouths reminded me of me).
- Via Oprah.com
“I had a very strong idea of how I wanted to look, always. When I was about eight, I didn’t look good in pants — I still don’t wear pants — so I told all the kids in the neighbourhood we weren’t wearing pants anymore, we were only wearing dresses. I still dress like a [child] in a way. Sometimes I’ll see a little two-year-old on the street in a giant tutu and a funny sweater and polka-dot socks, and I’ll go, ‘There’s my look.’”