I have never come across anyone who can wear something out as well as Sarah does. My heart stops when I find a Civil War vest torn to shreds, but I have never beat something up myself to the point of it looking like an antique. I love how a friend gives Sarah something to sew, and she ends up keeping it and wearing it as is, maybe even adding a few more tatters and tears. Sarah has no interest in owning a lot, but each thing that she has, she wears all of the time and often all at once. Her parents are serious academics who met at Cambridge – Sarah’s father is a quantum physicist, and her mother is an artist and historical sociologist (which might have something to do with Sarah’s conceptual and emotional approach to clothing). She loves the shape that her aunt’s robe makes, and wears it as a top coat. She very consciously alternates from more tomboy to girly, nothing in between. She has two similar striped t-shirts, each for a different mood; her Keds are a staple because her grandfather worked for the company. Everything becomes Sarah’s own – a shoelace hangs very consciously from her cargos, an earring is placed in the button hole of her sweater, touches of red are artfully applied to her hat and her sneakers coordinate with her beloved and of course, beautifully weathered back pack. Sarah’s room is a shrine to her sensibility for the raw and unpolished, everything, from the pile of white wire hangers on the floor to a branch on the wall to an empty bird cage (where a bird she saved once lived) has the expression of her sensitivity towards the obscure and enigmatic.