A tale of a closet - Who is Corinne Phipps

Once upon a time, I was a little person, who was given a doll. This doll was everything. The doll had its own mansion (with an elevator), Corvette, a pool, and most alluring… the best closet I had ever seen and didn’t know was possible. What an enchanting adventure to dress this doll in their wardrobe, mixing matching, experimenting. I fell head over heels in love with clothes. As I got older, I learned how to use scissors and made paper dolls with my imagination. The world had opened vast and wide. There is no stopping an 8-year-old on a mission to create paper doll clothes – unless there is no paper. While I didn’t have money, the creativity wasn’t lost on me.

Growing up in San Francisco was wonderful. So many places to browse and digest all the mannequin outfits. This would eventually become my formal training.

Fast forward through high school and college, back to San Francisco to begin my adult life. Oh no! What am I going to wear?! I have sorority t-shirts and sweatshirts, jeans, formal dresses – this was not going to work. I became a shopping ninja in the sale section. There were staples I would keep an eye out for and because, as Mark Twain allegedly wrote, “The Coldest Winter I Ever Spent Was a Summer in San Francisco”, I would always keep my eye open for sweaters, jackets, and coats. There is a nugget of wisdom there for you: know the place you live and its seasons. Because I was in my 20’s, I was constantly evolving with my style. This means my closet was growing, fast. At one point I couldn’t find my favorite (___). Sick and tired of the closet chaos and the anxiety trying to find something to wear to work. My lightbulb clicked.

I gathered magazines and dove into making my paper dolls! By far, my most favorite magazine was InStyle. With articles like “Your Complete Guide to Dressing Your Best Every Day” and “The 12 Best Sets That Make Getting Dressed Easy, No Matter Where You’re Going” how could I go wrong? As easy as it may read, the task of tearing apart my closet took weeks. Piles here, piles there, reminiscent of Carrie Bradshaw, but with no Manolo’s in the oven.

I learned more about myself, my body, my image, and confidence.