To give you an idea of what it was like to live with a fashion designer, here’s a typical morning for us in high school:
I’ve just come downstairs and head towards the garage, where I see Sara. We need to leave in about two minutes. Sara looks at me, and is obviously not impressed.
Me: Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?
Sara: Well, it’s too late now…
Or imagine that I’ve just gotten dressed before some family comes over for Christmas dinner:
Sara: Where did you get those pants?
Me: My closet.
Sara: Those are Dad’s pants. They can’t be yours.
Me: Well, they still fit.
Sara: Mom! He’s wearing pleats!
And more recently:
Aunt/Friend/Etc: That’s a cool bag, where did you get it?
Sara: I made it.