The Flag I Inherited
“The American flag has always seemed to weave together two ideas: freedom and the possibility of reinvention.”
A few days ago, I came across an old photograph of myself walking the Perry Ellis runway in a collection designed by Marc Jacobs. Draped around my shoulders was an American flag shawl.
Thirty-five years ago, I thought I was wearing a beautiful garment.
Today I realize I was wearing an inheritance.
Lately, I’ve found myself loving my country with a heavier heart than I ever imagined.
I hear things about America today that I never thought I would hear. Young people from Europe tell me they want to come to New York “before it ends.” Friends I respect quietly admit they’re thinking about where they would go if they ever had to leave.
Whether those fears prove justified or not isn’t really the point.
The fact that they’re being spoken out loud is.
There are moments when I cry because I think about what it cost my family—and so many other families—to widen the promise of America.
I think about my parents, who served this country long before America had fully delivered on the promises written into its Constitution.
And yet…
They served.
When they died, an enlisted service member folded the American flag that had draped each of their caskets and placed it in our family’s hands.
That flag was never just a symbol.
It was duty.
It was sacrifice.
It was faith.
“Thirty-five years ago, I thought I was wearing a beautiful garment. Today I realize I was wearing an inheritance.”
The American flag has always seemed to weave together two ideas: freedom and the possibility of reinvention.
Perhaps that’s why it has occupied such a singular place in American fashion.
The great European houses gave the world enduring visual codes. American fashion gave the world something different: permission to invent itself.
No two designers expressed that freedom more differently than Ralph Lauren and Marc Jacobs.
Ralph Lauren wrapped the American Dream in the American flag. His America is one of aspiration, optimism, dignity, and the belief that your future can be larger than your past.
Marc Jacobs planted his fashion flag at Perry Ellis. His now-legendary grunge collection famously got him fired. What looked like failure in the moment became the beginning of something much bigger.
If Ralph Lauren’s American flag represents aspiration, Marc Jacobs’ represents reinvention.
Together, they tell two sides of the American story.
One celebrates the freedom to build a life.
The other celebrates the freedom to become yourself.
From Nantucket to Stonewall, their visions remind us that the American flag isn’t a single story. It’s a shared symbol, expansive enough to hold prosperity and protest, tradition and rebellion, elegance and irreverence.
American style has never confused formality with elegance.
Sometimes… perhaps, elegance got left out altogether.
God forgive us for inventing Casual Friday.
“The flag I inherited doesn’t ask me to believe America is perfect. It asks me to believe it is worth fighting for.”
Looking at that photograph now, I no longer see a young model.
I see a daughter wrapped in an inheritance.
I see two parents who believed in this country—not because it was perfect, but because they believed it could become better.
I see the flag that was folded into perfect triangles and placed into my hands.
I see the flag I inherited.
I don’t know exactly what America will look like ten years from now.
I do know what my parents believed.
And I know what my mother taught me.
“You can have the life you believe in. You just have to fight for it.”
The older I get, the more I believe she wasn’t just talking about a life.
She was talking about a country.
And that’s the flag I inherited.
Such a beautiful message that is perfectly communicated by your wonderful writing.