“If I wake up and put on The Rolling Stones’ ‘Let It Bleed,’ then I’m going to put on something different than if I wake up listening to The Cramps,” Mia says. An addiction to her vintage ’70s rock and roll tee shirts aside, her style has evolved quickly, she says, into something more eclectic and unpredictable after exposure to the “punks, gypsies, modern fashionistas, and drifters” that shop at Wasteland, where she works– everyone from “the guys who look like Lady Gaga to the workwear to the well put-together.”
Mia is inspired by the styles of both sexes, and rather than wear a ton of make-up she finds the feminine in a ’70s-style lace dress, that she got from the Austin Psych Fest, paired with Jeffrey Campbell lace-up boot; very “this year’s Stevie Nicks.” And, in a Summer uniform of denim cut-offs and a jean jacket that she calls her “Texas Tuxedo,” after her home state, Mia feels that she has always been a “guy’s girl.”
The freedom with which she speaks about her absence of curves — referring to her body as “that of a 12-year old boy, or an ice skater” — is testimony to the unconditional love of her transplanted New Yorker parents who brought her up in super Southern, conservative Houston. In addition to supporting whoever she choses to be, Mia says, they gave her the “double whammy” of a fabulously full head of curls (they each have one of their own). In order to take the edge off of her “sort of tomboy-ish jeans and t-shirt look” Mia adds a pair of sparkley stripper platforms, a polka dot cropped top or a flowy cape, kaftan or robe– and her signature hand and armful of chunky, multi-faceted jewels that she feels naked without.