A 1920s dress I wore on my 21st birthday... literally disintegrated on me. I had the most wild debauched night. And that disintegrated dress sits in my closet - such a great memory.

I had a very feminist mother who exposed me not only to Planned Parenthood - my first job - but also to Betty Friedan and Colette and Naomi Wolf.

I never had a clique. If I throw a party, the only thing connecting people is me. Maybe I just don't believe in fear. I bulldoze right in.

When I think about fashion and elegance, I imagine a woman from the 1950s, on an airplane, with seamed stockings and a garment belt underneath, a skirt, high heels, and her hair that she's done the night before, perfectly done eyeliner, lipstick, gloves, perhaps, and all this just to sit on an airplane for a transcontinental flight.

Red lipstick is my armour - I feel it distracts from my hereditary dark circles and gives me an instant psychological lift, no matter what my mood is.

My new dressing goal is to make little kids and babies smile at all the bright, clashing colours I can wear at once. It makes me laugh when I catch sight of my own reflection - life is too short not have fun!