FASHIONING A NARRATIVE | RAYMAN BOOZER
Ever since I was a child on a farm in Indiana, fashion has been my obsession. I was the middle child of nine—the Jan Brady of our family, and sort of invisible. After seeing The Mary Tyler Moore Show, my dream became to live in a city in an apartment. At age 8, I made a pact that I would one day move to New York and do glamorous things with my life.
We didn’t have a ton of money, but my mother had amazing style. She made a lot of our clothes—think: red-white-and-blue bell bottoms with matching shirts. Even at age 5, I was picky about what colors I wanted to wear, and I hated being dressed like my brothers—I wanted control!
Growing up, I fell in love with magazines. I’d go down to the local newsstand and pour over Vogue and GQ. One day, a handful of subscription cards fell out, and I noticed the “bill me later” part. I asked the shopkeeper if I could have them, filled them out, and for three months, I built a library. In high school, my parents let me get subscriptions—but I held onto those issues and read them over and over.
When I went to college, I declared a fashion design major before finding interiors. What I am is a strong fashion editor—I’m good at pairing things together in interesting ways: colors, textures, attitudes—and a mix of high-low. My velvet Gucci blazer with a Uniqlo sweater; a leather Prada trench coat with my favorite Scotch and Soda jeans. Fashion also feeds my approach to color—you see daring combinations on the runway before the home. This, in part, is what keeps my interiors optimistic and open-minded.
A lot of people see fashion as trivial, but I believe that it’s a nonverbal way of communicating with like-minded people. Especially in Manhattan, you’re always presenting yourself to the public in some way. For me, fashion is armor. It’s a silent means of declaring who you are.
— As told to Stephanie Hunt