Why, at age 40, did you decide to strike out on your own as a fashion designer?
Is that old? Perhaps I would have preferred to start off at 20 or 30, but I don’t think I would have been anywhere near equipped to know what it takes to be in business. Even at 40, I wasn’t entirely sure I should be doing it. It wasn’t an era for start-ups. I’d always felt I should learn and earn, and I’d already had two incredible careers working for others—at Condé Nast and then Ralph Lauren—the best in the industry. Still, I didn’t feel very qualified or secure. I never thought I deserved to found a company.

I’d been on the artistic side—pictures and styling and Vogue and responsible for the design of 18 lines of accessories at Ralph. To think I could start, and run, and sustain a business? I knew how hard it was. My father was the reason I did it. When I got engaged, at 39, I was a little beyond the age of most brides and on a quest for a dress. I looked everywhere, from department stores to Chanel couture. My father identified that as an opportunity. He didn’t work in the garment industry, but he was a businessman, and he saw that bridal came with lower risks: It had low inventory, few fabrics at that time, and, since people will always want to get married, a steady stream of customers, though they don’t usually repeat. I didn’t know anything about dress design. I didn’t feel ready. And when I left Ralph, a lot of doors that had been open to me slammed shut, whether it was a fabric manufacturer or a party I wanted to go to, because I was now so small. Harsh. But my DNA was to find something I felt passionate about, to make a difference, and to work, so that’s what I did.

What advice do you give young designers?
It’s wonderful to be passionate and have a dream. But start by working for somebody you respect—or anybody, really—and get paid to learn. There is a learning curve—not only in what you know, but in how you behave. And if you don’t educate yourself first, you really can’t break rules. You have to learn what came before so that you know (a) you’re not really that inventive, and (b) which rules you want to break. Then keep your head down, don’t get involved in politics, be respectful, be grateful that you have the job, do your job, and most of all, be available. If you don’t have enough to do, that’s the problem. There were no hours for me at Vogue or at Ralph. Sunday night? No problem. You want to talk to me about retail on Saturday afternoon when I’m with my friends and family? I’m good to go, because I’m grateful that you are asking my opinion and that I can learn from smart, successful people. I was that kind of employee. I cared about my job. I felt honoured to be there. My goal was to prove to my employers that I was the best I could be.

Where do you look for creative inspiration?
Sometimes it’s a movie. Sometimes it’s a piece of art. Sometimes it’s nothing: I just start, and I say, “Where is this going?” The movie Kill Bill was an inspiration for one of my collections. That led me to Japanese culture, which I didn’t know a lot about. But I tried to keep thinking of touch points, like the big corded rope belts that sumo wrestlers wear to hold up their pants, or how a kimono is about wrapping and wrapping, layer over layer. I take these codes and make them my own. Recently I’ve been obsessed by Versailles. Louis XIV was the original fashion rock star—a man who loved clothing and forced his courtiers to dress up. He used clothing as power and control. So then I think, How am I going to make Louis XIV look young and hip and fun and for this generation? I do research, but not like the kind I had time to do 30 years ago, because fashion’s moving so fast. I probably never get more than five weeks of real active working time—from inspiration to visualisation—to do a major collection.

How do you walk the line between being unique and having commercial appeal?
My collection is elevated. We have sewers who could sew for any house in Europe. I’ve trained them over decades. I demand nothing less than great construction. People always say, “Vera’s never very commercial in her ready-to-wear lines,” but what they don’t understand is that