Growing up in a predominantly white town, my classmates largely traced their roots to cold, Northern European countries. The local culture leaned heavily towards thriftiness and tulips, with a solitary Catholic church standing amidst a sea of Dutch and Swedish surnames in our high school yearbook. The common attire consisted of corduroy Levi’s, button-down shirts, Shetland sweaters, and Topsiders for the boys, while the affluent girls by the lake sported Lilly Pulitzer.
In contrast, my fashion inspiration sprang from the pages of Vogue, which I discovered at the age of 12. Though I couldn’t afford the high-end fashion showcased, the stunning editorials, the soft-focus photography by Deborah Turbeville, and the innovative designs from young talents like Willi Smith and Perry Ellis sparked my imagination. I would often ask my mom to drop me off at the library while she ran errands, spending hours flipping through back issues that dated back to the ’60s and ’70s, where I first encountered the iconic Diana Ross.
My introduction to Diana was through my Uncle Mike’s record collection. He allowed me to listen to “Meet the Supremes” and “The Supremes at the Copa” during summer visits. Eventually, he passed on his Motown treasures to me. According to the biography I cherished, Diana had grown up in a modest Detroit apartment, fighting off rats with a bow and arrow and crafting her own clothing. Her dramatic life filled in the void of excitement in my own. If sewing was good enough for Diana, it was certainly good enough for me.
During a class trip to Detroit—Diana’s hometown!—to watch the musical Annie, I fancied myself a girl of means, exploring upscale boutiques in the Renaissance Center. I tried on a linen Perry Ellis outfit just to feel the fabric against my skin and understand the elegance of well-crafted clothing. Shortly after, I used my babysitting earnings to purchase pale pink linen and a Vogue pattern, ultimately creating my own Perry Ellis-inspired jacket and culottes, which I proudly wore to school.
Motivated by Vogue, I crafted various pieces that turned heads: jodhpurs in soft baby corduroy, a zip-up lilac jumpsuit complemented by silver ballet slippers, and a plaid, ruffled flannel mini-dress paired with tights and cowboy boots. I also designed a turquoise Willi Smith-inspired mini-skirt with built-in pantaloons, as well as a puff-sleeved top and skirt from gray sweatshirt material, channeling the style of Norma Kamali. However, my creations often felt too extravagant for my conservative high school environment. Instead of conforming, I dreamed of escaping to New York or Paris—cities where individual style flourished and couture was revered. I aspired to become a bohemian fashionista.
Then, a brochure arrived, inviting me to apply for a design program in Tokyo. Japan captivated my interest, especially after seeing Issey Miyake and Rei Kawakubo’s avant-garde designs in Vogue. I admired the clothes but doubted my ability to design them myself. I found joy in appreciating beauty and following patterns, but creating from scratch felt daunting.
In my senior year, I won a National Merit Scholarship and spoke to a local newspaper about my ambition to become a fashion magazine editor and to write books that would be included in school curriculums. In the accompanying photo, I donned a green check drop-waist dress, often paired with a double strand of faux pearls reminiscent of Coco Chanel. While I selected the pattern, it was my mother who sewed the dress.
College provided the freedom to wear whatever I desired without judgment. I crafted a flowing Issey Miyake dress and a structured white linen shift with a Japanese flair. A female classmate borrowed one, and later, a male roommate took one without permission, never to return it. I scoured vintage shops, church sales, and thrift stores, filling my wardrobe with little black dresses and paisley shirts. My nights involved dancing at new wave clubs, outfitted in a leopard-print jumper I had stitched together on my Singer, complemented by a wool fisherman’s cap and a rhinestone bracelet.
At 19, I ventured to New York City and visited Love Saves the Day, the iconic store featured in Madonna’s Desperately Seeking Susan. My journey continued to Paris, where I found a red dress that remains in my closet today, before finally arriving in Japan. When asked about my move, I often cite my passion for Heian Court poetry and the need to gain experience for my future novels. Indeed, I have penned several, including one featuring an all-girl band covering Diana Ross and the Supremes. Although I never achieved my dream of becoming a fashion magazine editor, some of my books have found their way into educational settings. Reflecting on my path, I realize my leap to Japan was perhaps influenced more by the designers I discovered in Vogue than by anything else.
Upon starting my role as an assistant English teacher in Shikoku, I celebrated my first paycheck by purchasing a sleek black Issey Miyake jacket.
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Summary:
This narrative chronicles a young woman’s journey from a small, culturally homogenous town to her odyssey through fashion, creativity, and self-discovery. Inspired by fashion icons like Diana Ross and the pages of Vogue, she navigates her passion for style, ultimately leading her to Japan. Along the way, her love for fashion intertwines with her aspirations for writing and personal expression.