Dressed entirely in monochromes, but multi-faceted, Fred is reminiscent of a bleach-blonde version of one of her ’60s icons, Peggy Moffitt. Despite how loud and vivaciously she dresses, inside, Fred clarifies that she is the polar opposite. She sees with what seems to be a child’s perspective, with a rainbow maker in her studio window that spreads prismatic light through the room, but Fred is as deep as the blue of the first color that she wore head to toe. She makes adults smile like children when they pass her in a yellow eyelet dress with a chunky Judy Blame bauble charm necklace. As if Fred has never left the short-lived time when one is a kid, free of inhibitions, and your biggest problem is coordinating colors, she doesn’t like or wear shoes, favoring instead her custom multi-hued Nikes. In fact, Fred is so unaffected by what everyone else is wearing that the bulk of her one-of-a-kind wardrobe comes from the one place she shops at that is on the way to her studio. High Street isn’t on her map.
A bout with chickenpox– life-threatening and cripplingly painful in adults– reminded her of the importance of living fully every day. In purple high-waisted trousers, a Peruvian-patterned jacket and a three dimensional, origami-inspired necklace of her own design, Fred feels that life is too short to waste wearing faux-distressed denim, “like everyone else on the Underground.” Fearing that we are heading back to being four-legged primates staring into our cell phones and computers instead of seeing each other, it would definitely be a loss to miss the heartwarming good energy of Fred in a turquoise raw silk dress that she sewed up the middle to make into wide pants or the shoulder decoration she cut out from a dress. “We have learned to stand up, but we’re going back to the old way, of not looking at each other,” Fred laments.