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Patricia Field
By Minya QuirkPhoto By Aaron Cobbett
There’s no more New York story than that of Patricia Field. A native NYC girl from a family of independent businesspeople, Pat, as she is called by friends, fashion insiders, and those with any level of admiration for the glamorous life of the downtown persuasion, never had childhood dreams of working in the fashion business, yet has cemented herself in the very fibers of American style.
The longtime boutique owner and Emmy-winning costume designer catapulted to fame while working for HBO’s Sex and the City, where her handiwork turned Carrie Bradshaw and her crew into the welldressed poster gals for a new breed of liberated women. For some, the look of SATC was too outlandish (“A cape?!!!” the fashionably faint of heart squealed after a certain episode featured Sarah Jessica Parker strolling downtown wearing what seemed to be a 1940s nurse getup); for others it was the sole reason for tuning in. Pat gave the fashion world gold nameplate necklaces and other ghetto fabulous accoutrements swinging from the necks and earlobes of uptown gals, Manolo Blahniks for the everywoman, luxury bags of the moment, and a mixing of high and low, vintage and new.
Did you know you’d be working in fashion as a kid?
No, my entry into fashion was more about my entry into business. I went to college, and when it came time for a career, I didn’t see myself teaching or going to grad school – I wanted to be in business. For me, fashion was easy. It was something I felt I could do. When I finished school, I replied to an ad for an entry-level job at Alexander’s. I thought, I can do this; I can learn retail. So I did it. I started as manager, and in less than a year I was a buyer. After three years, I knew I wanted my own thing. With a small inheritance and a partner who had a little money too, we opened the first Patricia Field store on Washington Place between Washington Square and Broadway. I went to NYU, and it was right there. We sold bellbottoms and mod clothes – it was modern and young. We moved to 8th Street in 1971, five years later.
How do you get dressed and how do you dress other people for work?
When I get dressed in the morning, I might be going to work, so I wear jeans and tees; for meetings, I’ll do a little more. But it’s really an artistic expression when I dress other people. It all comes from my fantasy and my inspirations. In my store, from day one, I dressed people, styled my customers. When I first started styling for TV and film in the ‘80s, I was like, That’s what I do! I was amazed they would pay me all this money to dress people. I was used to the long hard hours of retail. It was easy. I never took it for granted. When you’re styling for a movie or TV, it’s a story. It’s script-driven. You work with an actor; it’s a collaborative process. My role is to support the actor. They have to be comfortable and feel good. It’s not me telling anyone what to wear.
This is the Icons Issue. Who are your fashion icons?
I’m inspired by Cleopatra. I get a lot of inspiration from old Hollywood: the detail and perfection, the glamour. Of course, we live in another age now, but I draw upon it all the time, especially the completeness of it all. It’s about drama and theatrics for me. If you’re in front of the camera, everything has to be heightened in order for it to be entertaining – I’m not doing documentaries! I love that zone where I can heighten things. But I mean, it’s 10 percent heightened, it’s not turning things into a clown show.
You always seem very confident. Is that a key to great style?
People say that to me, about my red hair, “Oh Pat, you’re so brave to have that bright hair.” I think of it as single-minded. I’m not necessarily brave. I’m like a horse with blinders on: I’m not looking at everyone else to see what I should do. I go along my way and do what I do. I would be very unhappy answering to everyone. Sometimes I’m scared, so I don’t think of myself as brave. I’m not that complicated. It’s more naïveté. I was lucky to be brought up by good people who gave me confidence in who I was, so I don’t doubt myself. I don’t question everything I do—I just do it. A person’s individual style is the only style there is. The rest is paper cutout dolls.
I think you’re the mother hen of all the fashion runaways and all the kids who have a glimmer in their eye, dreaming of the big city. Would you agree?
I think of myself not as a mother hen, but more as an inspiration, I guess. I provide an example, that’s all. I get stopped on the street and people tell me I inspire them. It’s really nice. What more could you ask for? I’m just drawn to things that entertain me and inspire me. People say I’m the mother of the drag queens, and it’s not that I’m specifically into drag queens, but they’re theatrical, they live their life in theater. They’re entertaining and interesting, so I’m drawn to them. In our society today, people see a woman wearing makeup and they’ll say, “Ugh, she looks like a drag queen,” which I think is crazy. I don’t like the natural look. I like to take advantage of all the theatrics. That’s why I love Cleopatra.
Can you forecast a trend for me?
I don’t have a crystal ball. I guess it will be more totalitarianism: athletic wear as shoes, jeans that are really cowboy pants, workwear. All of these have been long-term trends in the American fashion scene. Fancy accessories have become so big because you have to mix. It’s a cultural statement, mixing utilitarian and luxe. I like mixing anything – the more ingredients you have, the more options you have to create different things. I don’t like any kind of trends. When they become trends, they become rubber stamps. When everyone’s wearing the same anything, it’s robotic.
I read in your bio a tagline of sorts: “Life is a party. Enjoy it, because it ends.” Was that extracted from one conversation, or is it something you say all the time?
I say it. I believe it. Life is all we have. Each of us has our own life and that’s all we have, so while we’re here, conscious and alive, if we don’t enjoy it, it’s foolish. To be unhappy in your life is a waste – you’re not going to have another one. At one point in the middle of my life, I had a bout with depression. I stayed at home, locked my doors, got paranoid. I needed to work it out in my head, which I did. I saw the light. It dawned on me that that there was nothing worth being unhappy about. It’s foolish and wasteful; it’s being confused. In the end, I want to be with my friends and feel good. When I feel good, my work, my life, my relationships are good. It all comes from the center.