I was a pest, an impossible child. I knew what I wanted, when and how, and refused to be told otherwise. It’s fair to say little has changed – I’m still as stubborn as I’ve ever been.
Shoes are in my DNA. My mother loved them, my father, too. I was always surrounded by beautiful footwear. Still, my career was an accident – responsible was the late, great Diana Vreeland. We met by chance in New York; I was almost catatonic. She saw my drawings, looked me straight in the eye and said: “Young man, do shoes, you’re very good at it.” Of course, I listened.
