I’ve always loved fashion. As a child, I used to spend hours immersed in 3 Suisses or La Redoute, calculator in hand, adding up the prices of all the outfits I liked. I cursed the Bonpoint culottes in navy blue gabardine and the Start Rites imposed on me by my mother, and dreamed only of transparent tights and patent shoes. As a teenager, I wandered around in a Harley Davidson and skull scarf, Schott bomber, Reebok and Cimarron jeans. I was already aware that the way you dress gives you self-confidence. In my opinion, that’s the primary function of clothing. Working in fashion was an obvious choice, but I couldn’t draw. So I couldn’t go to a fashion design school, so I opted for a business school after my A-levels. Martine Leherpeur then took me on at her agency and had the wonderful idea of directing me to the French Fashion Institute (IFM), where I was like a fish in water; it was, at last, my world.

An internship with Yves Saint Laurent rounded off my course at the IFM. Coincidentally, at the same time there was a major auction devoted to the company’s 1970s and 1980s; it was in this context that I discovered fashion auctions at Drouot. I met Françoise Sternbach and Dominique Chombert, who introduced me to the profession of expert. Shortly afterwards, when I turned 30, I set out on my own and opened my own firm. The Internet was in the process of changing things considerably, and this enabled me to take an innovative look at the profession, developing iconographic research with dating and imposing the idea of a context in which images became predominant. It was, and still is, a word-of-mouth profession, and it’s complicated to get into. When I started out, it was my girlfriends’ mothers who entrusted me with their clothes for sale, mostly pieces from the 1980s (Beretta, Alaïa, Mugler, Japanese designers, etc.). These were relatively recent models, so they weren’t very common in auctions which, at the time, devoted most of their catalogue to haute couture. Resale platforms were only just emerging, and the general public was not yet familiar with second-hand clothes. Auctions were in the vanguard, aimed at an audience of insiders and collectors. At the time, the houses were unaware of the value of their heritage and archives.
What I’ve always loved about this job is the fabulous encounters with women who have a unique relationship with their wardrobe. Clothes are intimate, they carry secrets and memories, they say something about the woman who wears them. The Artcurial auction house then asked me to set up the Fashion Arts department, and in particular to develop a number of Hermès Vintage sales in Paris and Monaco. After four years, I felt the need to express myself differently and regain my freedom.

All the apartments where I lived alone when I was younger were attic apartments; what has always been important to me is the silence, the light and, above all, the feeling of reassuring shelter.

My friends think that this place is a replica of one of my first apartments in the rue des Canettes, the adult version. I’ve always lived in a succession of small, slightly quirky rooms under the eaves, except when I was married, and we moved into a more middle-class apartment.

Like my previous homes, this one was a no-brainer: the second I walked in, I could see myself living here, and I was mentally reorganising the space. I immediately felt I would be happy here, and that my children would grow up in a shared, open and protective environment.

The walls are white or grey simply because the objects, the works of art and the everyday items are already an explosion of colour in their own right. I ban all prints and prefer antique white sheets and tea towels that I dye if they are stained, and my collection of hotel bathmats… With one exception: the La Serviette Paris towels designed by Benjamin Bottard.

And the fantastic print here: the panther spot carpet on the floor and on the fully carpeted staircase. This daring approach led to a fairly simple constraint: my living room couldn’t look like a nightclub. I immersed myself in Madeleine Castaing’s books, which inspired me to mix garnet and bottle green. These velvet shell armchairs, which on their own are of no interest, work well in this room, complementing the green velvet AM/PM sofa and reflecting the animal spots in their mirrored base. My dressmaker had made me some skirts in cut velvet from antique furnishings, which were quietly falling to pieces in the back of my wardrobe when I realised that the colours matched those in my living room perfectly. So, the talented upholsterer Charlotte Decroix took them apart and transformed them into square cushions, buttoned seat pads, and bolster cushions for the sofa.

My apartment is very cosy, protective and safe. Comfort is essential to me when it comes to decorating. I want to create a feeling of well-being. Aesthetics never take precedence over functionality. This place is like a gigantic bedroom, a boudoir tucked away under the Paris rooftops, an intimate little place.

It’s a mix of bourgeois taste, but it’s crazy and very quirky, too. The interior designer and ornamentalist Pierre Marie spoke of his mother’s deconstructed elegance. It’s a notion that speaks to me, this idea of the natural order of things, of spontaneity. At home, the different elements come together and take shape, as they do in collages. For example, I’ve got sheep masks that double up as wall lights; I put them there, just like that, and they’ve settled in! I like to hijack objects and give them a function other than the one they were designed for. And the same goes for my vision of fashion: I decorate in the same way as I dress. My idea of aesthetics is not isolated pieces, but objects that interact, materials that respond to each other, and colours that tell a story. And it all works together, in the end. I don’t go looking for objects or furniture; they come to me. My living room was empty for a long time, then filled up as I found new things. Nothing is set in stone; the apartment is transformed by the vagaries of everyday life.

The important thing for me is to be in an environment that stimulates my imagination, my children’s imagination and possibly that of people passing through. Perhaps that’s why there’s so much here! I’m a hoarder, and I don’t like parting with things. Each one is imprinted with a memory; there is a bond between them and me. Relics from my childhood, souvenirs from my travels, little animals… Life is continuity, and passing things on is part of that continuity. My grandmother, who was very stylish, gave me a multitude of crystal decanters that sit alongside my collection of teapots, poodle knife rests that sit alongside Laguiole knives and Wedgwood porcelain that sits alongside Muji bowls. I use all this old-fashioned crockery on a day-to-day basis, and it goes in the dishwasher. An accumulation like this can be distressing for many people, but it doesn’t bother me. And I’d go so far as to say that the more it overflows, the more reassuring I find it. This apartment is my den; it tells my story through its plethora of objects.

Above all, it’s the apartment I share with my children. I don’t entertain many visitors; the living room is a place for construction, experimentation and expression. There’s Lego and other little characters everywhere, even in my bedroom, which doubles up as a football pitch. My bed is overcrowded with the cuddly toys I give my children before picking them up myself. It’s a real passion! My latest purchase is a Jellycat broccoli for my daughter Céleste, which I hope she’ll soon leave lying around!

I really like the Carlotta range and particularly appreciate the interplay between materials and colours. I like the coffee table with burgundy lacquer legs and green marble best… perfect for my living room!

Lots! On the retail front, the Coopérative Latte Cisternino (46, rue du Faubourg Poissonnière), for their mozza, rocket and ham wrap. Pâtisserie Tholoniat (47, rue du Château d’Eau) for their semifreddo, which they first created in 1965. Yebisu, the fishmonger (81, rue du Faubourg St Denis) for their huge soles. If I want a delicious oat latte, I go to Café Soucoupe (33 rue du Faubourg Poissonnière). For roasted cauliflower and broccoli to die for, I head to Miznon (3 rue de la Grange-Batelière). If you want to enjoy small plates of raw fish, there’s only one place to go: Sur Mer (53 rue de Lancry).

But let’s talk fashion! At Super Vintage (11, rue des Petites Écuries), you can always find a bargain for ten euros when you drop in. If you like the idea of colour blocking, Thanx God I’m a VIP (12, rue de Lancry) is the place to go. The best selection of vintage clothing and accessories from the 1970s and 1980s I know of is at In Situ (rue de Metz, by appointment). And let’s not forget the cheeky little knickers at Henriette H (24, rue du Château d’Eau)!

I’ll finish with a spot of art… at Les Douches la Galerie (5, rue Legouvé) for the wonderful exhibitions its founder, Françoise Morin, puts on.

With our nose in auctions: in collaboration with Millon and Drouot, we are organising three online auctions: Fashion Auction Selection, Fall 2023, with bidding closing on 9 October at 6pm; Winter 2023, with the catalogue online since 27 September and bidding closing on 6 November at 6pm; Fashion to auction VII, with the catalogue online on 24 November and bidding closing on 4 December at 6pm.