Iris Apfel

SIX NOT-SO-EASY PIECES

PEOPLE OFTEN ASK ME about the genesis of my passion for fabric. For a long time, I couldn’t pinpoint a moment. But then one day I had a flashback to my early childhood—and all was revealed.

I was an only child and for many years the only grandchild on both sides of my family. This meant I often attended family events that kids didn’t go to. We lived in Queens, and periodically, my parents would take me to my father’s parents’ home in Brooklyn, where all the aunts and uncles would gather for a social evening. For the first ten or fifteen minutes, everyone would pet me, pinch my cheek, and ask me questions. Then they’d get bored with me and go and have a drink or play cards; I’d be left standing there like a little fool.

My grandmother realized she had to do something to keep me entertained. She was a very charitable woman who did a lot of work for the poor and the sick. In those days, she was one of the founders of a hospital and an old-age home. She also had four daughters; they were always sewing for charity.

One time, when I was still very young, she took me to a back hallway where there were two big closets, and said, “Sit on the floor. I’m going to give you a treat.”

I obeyed. She opened the closet doors, and out tumbled several huge white sacks that had been stuffed inside. She opened one bag, and then another, and what I saw made my eyes pop: a gigantic bunch of little fabric remnants in all sorts of colors and patterns—there were scraps of all kinds, of all shapes and sizes.

Then she said, “Here, sit on the floor and play with them. Do whatever you want. If you’re good, you can take six pieces with you when you go home.”

I was fascinated, and this became the routine whenever I went to visit. I would sit on the floor in the back hall and put combinations together. If I didn’t like a setup, I’d “fix” it. I clearly remember agonizing over a change, especially if I thought I wanted to pull a swatch from one of my “finished” arrangements to put into another, newer one, because then it meant I’d have to fix that, too. Obsessed with texture, color, and pattern, I spent whole evenings entertaining myself this way. Time always passed too quickly, and I was always sad to leave when my grandmother came to fetch me. Looking back, it’s very clear playing this way honed my eye and gave me a very deep interest in fabric.