I first spotted Sara on First avenue in a handmade ivory knit poncho, her signature “wicked” 70′s bell bottom jeans that she alters and patches, and her spectacular silver bangles that she wears up to her elbows and never takes off. I walked by her initially and did the usual double take for a split second until I realized that destiny had called. It turned out that fate would have it that she was the esteemed jewelry designer who made many of the adornment on her arms and that I had come to learn about from two other of our Closet muses. One is Paisley Dalton, whose long silver tribal earring created that kind of high I get when I just “have to have” something. The other is Jimmy Webb, who is iconic for his layers of mind boggling punk-meets-Christian silver jewels. He has amassed a collection of Sarah’s pieces that I sadly could only dream of attaining.
When I came to shoot this feature on Sara, I knew that I would be overwhelmed (in the best way) by her passion for dressing, but I didn’t expect there to be as much as I found. Sara’s affection for all things Native American goes way beyond her seminal squash blossom necklace that she paid for on lay away in 8th grade. A white leather coyote bag with feathers that she made hangs in her closet, while white fringe Isabel Marant boots are on her “must get” list. In fact, boots play a close second to jewels for Sara in order of obsession. Haider Ackermann over-the-knee ones are drop dead sexy with a floral dress and Gaultier ankle booties, that she cleverly wears with American Apparel athletic socks, giving a tough feel to a Vivienne Westwood halter dress and bloomers. While rock and roll lives on in a big way with Sarah in her American flag leather pants and a Rick Owens fitted jean jacket that makes all others pale in comparison.
But the utimate inspiration for me about Sara is her “I don’t give an fuck” attitude in general that reflects not only in her style, but in her willingness to be out of the box in her self-expression, even if it means flying under the radar when she is more talented than most. Nothing can get in the way of her attention to detail, for her, art means more to her than commercial success. Sara will alter something until it’s right or she will make something if she can’t find anything as great, like her Victorian silk bloomers. I envy both her blunt honesty when she says, “I just like to make shit” and her unsual humility when she pulls out this spectacular, embroidered coat that she made while on vacation. Creative purists like Sara fascinate me, I am attracted to them like a magnet because of the part of me that isn’t one.