Every month, Harper’s Bazaar gives us a peek inside the day-to-day life of a big designer and for November, they’ve given us fashion mogul Vera Wang.
One thing we’ve learned from this feature, in which designers recount an average day, from waking up, to going to sleep, is that fashion designers have some pretty…eccentric daily habits. Peter Dundas takes a jet to work every day, Karl Lagerfeld has two houses and Vera Wang has an entire pantry containing only orange food, practically lives in her van and once almost got shot by Hillary Clinton’s bodyguards.
And that’s not all. Read on for Wang’s most interesting, uh, quirks:
Sharon Stone helped her be okay with waking up at 8am:
I’m not really a morning girl. Once I complained to Sharon Stone about it and she said, “I don’t think Picasso woke up at five in the morning to go farming,” so now I always say that.
Her housekeeper sounds amazing:
I have a housekeeper who I consider a mother figure. She brings me breakfast in bed, either yogurt and fresh fruit or eggs and chicken sausage.
I’ve never liked Sunday since I was in school, so I always have people over [for dinner]. It’s usually Chinese, home-cooked by my housekeeper, and it’s the best Chinese food in New York.
On her uniform:
Getting dressed is a whole thing for me. My closet is organized by tops, pants, and outerwear, but not a lot of dresses. Gowns are in another room because I don’t often dress formally, even though I design gowns. Like most designers, I have a uniform, and mine is a legging. And if it’s not a legging, it’s a pant that’s like a legging. They could be from Balenciaga or Givenchy, or from Danskin or my Kohl’s line. Then I throw on a T-shirt. After that I’m a complete outerwear freak. I work very hard to look casual. It’s deliberate to look like you didn’t try too hard, as my old boss Ralph Lauren would say. I never carry a handbag, just my BlackBerry and eyewear.
She drives around in a van that sounds like an apartment:
It’s like a big signpost—here she be! I have two drivers, one for the first eight hours and another for the next eight. The van is my moving office. I have everything: a tiny pharmacy, a fridge, water, Swedish Fish, blankets and pillows, a sketchbook so I can draw. I always joke that if it had a toilet I could live in it. Everyone laughs and says it’s ugly, but I don’t care. I call it my jet, because I don’t have a private jet.
She once accidentally mistook Hillary Clinton’s van for her own:
Once, after a dinner for Hillary Clinton, there were two vans outside. I jumped in one, and three of the handsomest guys I ever saw drew guns. I said, “Oops, wrong van!” But that’s how Hillary rolls too.
She describes her employees as crying children:
I get to the office, and I run to the first fire that needs to be put out. It’s like having five kids: You run to the kid that is crying the loudest.
She claims to have at one time in her life eaten pizza every day:
At one point I was eating a slice of Ray’s pizza every day, and I never gained a pound on it. It’s not a bad thing if you squeeze out that excess oil. It’s so filling.
Her kitchen is very…organized:
There are two TVs. There’s an ice cream freezer, a soda fridge, and a healthy fridge. There’s the liquor thing, where the vodkas are kept ice-cold. We have a candy pantry, a cereal pantry, and a pantry for what I call “orange food”—Cheetos, Pepperidge Farm Goldfish, all kinds of chips. I’m a chip freak. I’ll find a way to sneak a chip in with a cocktail—yes, sirree! It’s so fabulous, orange food.