Some of us on the fashion beat are Anglophiles (followers of the outre and the unexpected), others Francophiles (with a leaning to classic style and definite attitude) or perhaps have a lurking Latino streak (straight out sexy). I've been through all those stages but must admit my inner-self leans strongly to all things Americana.
Maybe it's because of my mother kitting me out at age 10 in a pair of denim dungarees, blue short-sleeved chambray shirt and red kerchief - a distinctly cutting-edge outfit which my friends would have killed for. Whatever. I fell in love with America. And naturally as time progressed the one American designer who historically has the Wild West pegged out as his own terrain, Ralph Lauren.
When I moved to New York, frequenting the Ralph Lauren flagship store in Madison Avenue became routine. As did trips to Frye - the brilliant American Western boot makers. And after I bought an apartment on 92nd Street between Fifth and Madison, the fact that Gwyneth's parents lived opposite was completely overshadowed by discovering that Ralph and Ricky lived on my corner. Occasionally I would glimpse him strolling down my street in typical Western attire - chicly crumpled shirt, jeans or chaps, cowboy boots - looking somewhat dishevelled in a very stylish way. Good looking was an understatement.
Over the years, my wardrobe has had its fair share of chambray shirts, embossed leather bomber jackets, prairie skirts (preferably taffeta), an inestimable amount of studs - plus a leaning towards turquoise and silver. Even the odd serape blanket coat. And a very prized pair of gold leather Frye boots complete with intricate punching detail and wooden Cuban heels.