My dad, who was creative director in the '60s, always wore black jeans with black desert boots; he thought he was cool. He told me to buy a pair as well. I didn't like black, so I got the sand color, and I've been wearing them since college.

I've had the hat for four years and it keeps getting better with age. It's been in the ocean and the pool several times, yet refuses to be destroyed. The shape only improved with weathering. I bought several for my storefront in NYC, but it felt like a fish out of water in the city. It cries out for the California coastline and the arid deserts of Africa.

A friend of yours has, I think, a huge collection of sock monkeys. I'd love to show those. When I go to people's homes and I see the little things they're obsessed with, I wonder why no one has ever exhibited them.

There are a lot of things that you see in the world ...We have a collection of gloves that have been run over by trucks that a friend named JP Williams collects. They are really beautiful. They look like sculpture. And he has a hundred pictures of them - we're making a book out of them. It's all that kind of ephemera, things that exist that no one really looks at unless it's put to them in a certain way.

My dad, who was creative director in the '60s, always wore black jeans with black desert boots; he thought he was cool. He told me to buy a pair as well. I didn't like black, so I got the sand color, and I've been wearing them since college.

A company has to be like that person who turns his cuffs up a different way, who smokes a certain brand of cigarette, who wears an obscure vintage watch.