I am a perfect being in a perfect world.

Art critics are like every other critic.

For people that don't have any interest in the psychology of nuance, who need everything to be in their face, who don't want to analyze... those aren't the people I romanticize about dressing.

I remember walking the dog one day, I saw a car full of teenage girls, and one of them rolled down the window and yelled, 'Marc Jacobs!' in a French accent.

I always say I lived my life with my grandmother. She was emotionally stable, and she was very encouraging to me.

Sometimes there are two very opposite directions, and we go with the stronger one at the end. It's an impulse thing, like, 'Oh, I love both so much, but it's got to be one or the other because the two don't work together.'

My mind absorbs things in a funny way. I'm on planes quite a bit and I always take stacks and stacks of magazines and I go through them and tear pages out and fold them up, and they get stuck at the bottom of my backpack or whatever.