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I think I was around 25 when I first came out to the Hamptons. Even when I didn’t have a house, I’d drive out. It was so beautiful. I wanted to be able to feel the fresh air and wind, take in the endless blue skies, the ocean and green fields, the rusticity and elegance. Its world of horses and white fences, farmers and surfers, artists and writers has been one of my great inspirations ever since. They’ve made me dream up many stories to tell through my clothes. It’s a place so special to me, there’s always more to say. In the early 1970s, a few years after Ricky and I were married, we found a house—a renovated red barn—in Southampton. Then we got a modernist box in the sand dunes of Amagansett, a shingled saltbox in East Hampton, and, finally, our place on the cliffs in Montauk.
“Wherever we lived, my summer uniform has always been all about comfort. In the beginning, I wore the same things over and over. Everything was a little raggy like my cutoff chinos or tattered shirts with the sleeves cut off.”
Wherever we lived, my summer uniform has always been all about comfort. In the beginning, I wore the same things over and over. Everything was a little raggy like my cutoff chinos or tattered shirts with the sleeves cut off. Living by the ocean under the sun so close to nature, I didn’t really think about dressing. Less was more—exposing your skin to the sun and salt water was what it was all about. I wore the same old weathered khaki army shirt with a pair of suede shorts I coveted from a friend when I went to camp. He finally gave them to me, and I still wear them. Barefoot living was what it was all about, but sometimes I’d slide into a pair of old espadrilles that felt like summer slippers. Other times I liked the ruggedness of my old Frye boots decorated with little conchos around the ankle. On cool evenings I’d pull on cream cashmere cable knee socks tucked into sturdy leather sandals. In those days, when Ricky and I and the kids rode our white Jeep down the beach at sunset, she wore her orange army jumpsuit and I wore my faded khaki army shirt. For those cool nights all of us pulled on our vintage old jean jackets. I had a beat-up cowboy hat that somehow felt totally at home in that ocean landscape. The Hamptons was an escape for us: cookouts on the beach, walks in the surf, swimming and running, early mornings with coffee and pancakes, burgers on the grill, and falling asleep to the sound of the surf through our open windows. ... A peaceful place to live simply. Which is what it still is for me.
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