Some of the most enduring fashion lessons I’ve learned didn’t come from glossy magazines or runways—they came from growing up on a farm just outside of Charlottesville, Virginia. My childhood was defined by days on horseback, swims in the creek, and afternoons running through wide-open fields. Those years quietly shaped my approach to style: practical, timeless, and rooted in ease. Denim, barn jackets, cozy knits, wellies, and crisp white tees were the staples of my wardrobe long before they became seasonal trends. Think L.L. Bean, Land’s End, Ralph Lauren, and Levi’s.
One of my favorite pieces to borrow from my mother was her well-worn oversized L.L. Bean barn jacket, embroidered with the words Tally Ho—the name of our farm in Keswick. It felt like a uniform, one that could weather anything. Now, years later, with barn jackets all the rage, you see them on the runways at houses like Loewe and Prada. Fashion, it seemed, had circled back to the very pieces I grew up with.
