My Journey

by Donna Karan

  I was awestruck from the moment I arrived. The island is breathtakingly beautiful, and under the layers and layers of devastation, I saw potential, promise, and possibilities. I also fell hopelessly in love with the people, who were suffering but also pure and spirited. As we traveled the countryside, we saw the crafts of incredible artisans, from the beautiful tobacco leaf work of Jean-Paul Sylvaince and his girlfriend Yvette Celestin to extraordinary crystal and wrought iron chandeliers by a woman named Karine “Cookie” Villard.

  Of course, I felt a connection to Stephan, too. We had just left some metalworkers in Croix-des-Bouquets and were now in a Port-au-Prince hotel. I loved the patina of the hotel’s iron railings and details. “We need to find the person who did this work, so we can have them help the guys in Croix-des-Bouquets,” I said.

  “That’s me,” said a voice behind me. It was Philippe Dodard, a local artist and sculptor. He was tall and charming, and immediately invited me to his home and studio up a steep hill. That’s when I saw how much in common he had with Stephan artistically, starting with his abstract line paintings. Philippe had even built a circular metal staircase like the one Stephan did for our Hamptons home. The only thing he was missing was the ponytail. Like me, he was a yogi and a Reiki master, so I felt even more of a bond.

  As Philippe introduced me to the artists he knew and supported, I kept wondering, Why don’t we know about all the talent in this little country? Then inspiration struck: To get the word out, I’d help develop these gorgeous crafts into something marketable and sustainable for the communities that make them. I collaborated with the Clinton Global Initiative to implement plans while working directly with artisans to create objects of desire to appeal to a global market.

  My goal was—and still is—to help Haiti help itself. More than that, I want to help create a model on how to help other countries struck by disaster: Nepal, India….It’s similar to a family’s illness; disaster strikes and none of us know what to do. Thank God for relief organizations. Rebuilding after a catastrophe is a long road, and it’s so rewarding to be a part of that. Bringing awareness is key: I’ve brought Vogue to Haiti and have been filmed with Oprah while she was there, too. The more we can keep a spotlight on Haiti, the better. I’m happy to use my profile in any way possible. I can’t think of a better use for my platform.

  When the Clinton Global Initiative asked me to design its 2012 Global Citizen Award, I worked closely with Cookie, the chandelier artist, and Nadia Swarovski of the famed crystal family. Our handcrafted design echoed the CGI logo and was a beautiful expression of raw and refined worlds coming together. Two remarkable things happened during the ceremony. First, President Clinton announced that our design would be the permanent CGI award—an incredible honor considering they had previously given out a different one every other year. Second, the president called me onto the stage. “I think we should give an award to Donna Karan,” he said. “I believe that it is overwhelmingly because of her that the arts and crafts center of the Haitian economy may be the first sector that is actually doing better today than it was before the earthquake, and I will never be able to thank her enough.” I was floored—and truly humbled. Once again, my life had come full circle. He had inspired me to start Urban Zen, and now he was recognizing its efforts. (Just a year earlier, we had honored President Clinton with The Stephan Weiss Apple Award, a tribute we have also given to New York City, as accepted by Michael Bloomberg, Dr. Mehmet Oz, and Courtney Sales Ross.)

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  Inevitably, Haiti’s culture worked its way into my Donna Karan New York designs. Philippe Dodard’s bold brushstrokes inspired my spring 2012 collection, which featured sexy printed dresses, pencil skirts, and jackets. Russell James photographed our ad campaign in Jacmel with the gorgeous model Adriana Lima. When the ads first came out, the media criticized me for exploiting Haiti by photographing expensive, glamorous clothes in a poor country. I argued that we had to embrace Haiti into the larger world; otherwise it would be ignored and forgotten. Two years later, we returned to shoot our spring Donna Karan New York 2014 campaign, again with Russell and Adriana, by the iconic Citadel fortress.

  These days, I try to go to Haiti at least four times a year to work directly with the artisans. (Conveniently, it’s a half-hour flight from Parrot Cay.) I’ve formed a family there too: after spending the day visiting artisan communities, hospitals, orphanages, and educational centers, I often run into people like Sean Penn, the actress Maria Bello, the director Paul Haggis, and David Belle, founder of Cine Institute (with whom I work closely on my Urban Zen communications). Haiti has become a second home for all of us. And I’m thrilled that Urban Zen now has a presence there in the form of expanding UZIT programs in hospitals and DOT—the Design, Organization, Training Center for Haitian Artisans, a collaboration with my alma mater, Parsons New School of Design and artisan leader Paula Coles (her signature weave bags made out of recycled T-shirts are the only ones I carry year-round).

  We’ve also established an Urban Zen Children’s Art Center with the creative visionary Caroline Sada, and we work closely with Maryse Pénette-Kedar, or the “Mother of Haiti,” as I call her, who runs the PRODEV educational centers there. Other than playing with my own grandchildren, nothing lifts my heart more than sitting for hours creating crafts with those enchanting kids.

  On my very first visit in 2010, we strolled around a small village and ran into dozens of smiling children. They walked us to their school, a little wood shack where a teacher was teaching geography to a class of seven- to thirteen-year-olds. I drew a map of the United States and Haiti on the wall they were using as a blackboard. One of the kids asked, “Why is Haiti so small?” I immediately drew an enormous heart around the tiny island and said, “That’s my heart and it belongs to Haiti.”

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  26

  LETTING GO

  My life has been a continuous cycle of birth and death, and this book has proven to be another example. Just as I’m releasing my life story to the world, I’m saying goodbye to Donna Karan New York. I had no idea that the end of this book would coincide with the end of my Donna Karan collection, and I don’t have a lot of time to reflect—I’ve already passed three hard deadlines for this last chapter. So here’s the story, unvarnished and unprocessed.

  There have been rumors for a while about me stepping down. I had been speculating about it myself. My thirtieth anniversary show for fall 2014 was extraordinary. The photographer Steven Sebring created a film, Woman in Motion, to introduce the show, and the model Karlie Kloss wore a new iconic red bodydress designed to bring my bodysuit into the future. The press was abuzz, assuming it was my farewell statement. The timing was logical, but I just couldn’t step down. Hard as it was to leave Anne Klein, leaving my own namesake was a whole other matter. Just one more collection, I’d tell myself. Then, after that show, I’d swear to Patti, Okay, I’m done. Next season will be my last. But I just couldn’t let go.

  I’m pulled in so many directions—my work in Haiti with Urban Zen, my travels around the world. And after a lifetime of dressing (and being) the woman who juggles a million roles, I’m here to tell you that it takes a toll. People always ask me “How do you do it all?” The truth is I don’t. I can’t tell you how much time I spend organizing my schedule, trying to squeeze in this person, that appointment, a fund raiser for this, a quick fabric trip abroad, and, of course, quality time in my design rooms. And then there’s my family life and time with friends, as well as my personal time. I’ve learned that the calendar only holds so many hours, no matter how much you try to pack into it.

  Still, I’d been in denial, insisting that I could keep all these balls in the air. Remember when I suggested to Calvin that we combine our “Klein” companies into one so we could both work only half a year? He scoffed at me, saying he loved what he did and didn’t need time off. Well, trendsetter that he is, Calvin stepped away more than ten years ago and is happily applying his enormous talent into other amazing creative p
rojects.

  The universe was sending me messages to follow his example. While writing this book, my Madison Avenue store closed. Not having a retail home in New York City was the first dot. Then the second dot—my right and left arms left the company: Jane, my co-DKNY designer, and Patti Cohen, my redheaded sister—two people who had been with me from my Anne Klein days. Change was happening all around me. The time had come. I needed to close one chapter to begin the next: nurturing Urban Zen, the Company and the Foundation, as well as my philanthropic pursuits. Long story short, the Collection’s been put on hold, at least for a while. It was the right decision at the right time.

  I knew I’d be sad, but it was truly heartbreaking. I had to say goodbye to the people who have become my family, who have stood beside me through every professional up and down, every good and bad review, and the many CEOs and management teams. On a personal level, one of my most emotional moments was walking into the design room and seeing all the gorgeous fabrics that had just arrived from Europe for the spring collection that wouldn’t be. I immediately started touching the luxe textures, and within minutes, began draping them on a mannequin. I couldn’t help myself.

  September 2015 (which will have passed by the time you read this) will be only the second season since I was nineteen that I have not presented a spring show. The only other time that happened was on 9/11. How amazing is that?

  I’ve been asking myself, who and what is Donna Karan? Is it a brand? A dress? A person? Where does my story go from here? I wish I could tell you I have it all mapped out, but I don’t. I’m nervous and confused, but excited.

  For more than thirty years, I signed my fashion show press releases, “To be continued…” That was the only way I could let a collection go down the runway. Because my creative process is ongoing. I am never done. There’s always something to add: a last-minute thought, an idea I need more time to execute. I feel that way now. There’s so much I want to do: hotels, condos, furniture, and yes, fashion. But my biggest focus is on Urban Zen and its three initiatives: healthcare, education, and preserving culture. And I’ll never stop designing my Urban Zen fashion collection—after all, I need something to wear.

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  As I reflect back, I realize that so much of my career has been an adventure, with twists and turns I never could have predicted. Let’s start with the fact that I had planned to be a stay-at-home mother. When Anne died, I felt like a spaceship had beamed me up and swooped off into space, taking me on a journey I wasn’t prepared for. But I stayed on. Jumping off wasn’t an option, because I was committed to continuing Anne’s legacy. Ten years later, I did not set out to open the Donna Karan Company. I wanted to have a small collection under the Anne Klein umbrella. I had to be fired—pushed out of the company!—in order to start my own business.

  I’ve never been a woman with a laid-out strategy. I have passion and enthusiasm. The word no is not in my vocabulary. Don’t tell me something’s impossible. In my mind, anything and everything is possible. I just need to stay open and access my gift—the light that flows through me, that flows through all of us—and trust that it will lead me in the right direction.

  This is where my spirituality kicks in. I believe we’re guided on our journeys. I’ve had a series of teachers in my life, and the greatest ones have been birth and death. All the unexpected endings and beginnings have happened for a reason. People—like my Kabbalah teacher Ruthie—and events have been placed on my path to steer me forward; sometimes I’ve listened to them, and other times I’ve learned the hard way, repeating mistakes over and over until I got things right.

  My father’s death changed my mother forever. When he died, she disconnected from friends and family and threw herself into work. As much as I swore I’d never be like her, I’ve gone on to do exactly what she did: fill up the emptiness inside with work. As a child I hated Seventh Avenue, and look where I wound up. Was it destiny or irony? I don’t know, but I know Seventh Avenue has been home to some of the greatest moments in my life. It’s also where I’ve felt most connected to my parents.

  Years later, when I found my rock on the beach in East Hampton, I was drawn to its stillness, calm, and simplicity. Could I be that rock?, I wondered. I realize now that the answer is no. My personality is to do, do, do. Blame it on my ADD or my fear of stopping and being alone—whatever the reason, chaos is my middle name. I create it better than anything else I do. But it’s also brought me an amazing, exciting life. I even named my most favorite fragrance Chaos.

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  I’ve been given so much. Mark gave me the gift I wanted more than anything: motherhood. He and I are now grandparents together, and we are a true modern family, getting together for holidays and weekends at the beach. (Mark has been with the same woman, Yvonne, for thirty years, so he has more than recovered from Hurricane Donna.) I still feel guilty about not being a Betty Crocker mom to Gabby, but I gave her the Donna Karan version instead: laughs, high drama, incredible clothes, and most of all, a lifelong best friend. We are inseparable. We look alike, dress alike, vacation together, live next door to each other at the beach, and even have connecting businesses in Sag Harbor: Urban Zen shares a courtyard with Gabby and Gianpaolo’s hot restaurant, Tutto il Giorno. Gabby is my life’s greatest treasure, bar none.

  Then there was Stephan. Where would I have been without his love, strength, belief in me and fierce support, not to mention his remarkable business savvy? He gave me Corey and Lisa as well as my first five grandchildren, Etan, Maya Rose, Mackensie, Mercer, and Miles. When I was young and unsure of myself, I walked away from Stephan. Thank God that the second time around, I had the good sense to glue myself to him and never let go. Our road was long, creative, and soulful. I still feel his presence at Urban Zen (originally his studio), and he continues to guide me.

  Gabby and Gianpaolo gave me the gift of Stefania and Sebastian, who bring me pure joy and keep me young. Thanks to Stefania, I’m trying to ride horses again, and Sebastian is trying to teach me how to use the computer. Horses and computers: two lost causes, but I love the bonding they bring.

  Just like I can’t separate the past from the present, I also can’t separate the personal from the professional. My fashion relationships have shaped me into who I am. There would be no Donna Karan it weren’t for Anne Klein, period, end of report. But that thought applies to many others, too. You’re only as strong as the people you work with. For a woman as creatively liquid as I am, I need a glass to hold me, and I’ve been blessed with the very best support team in the world. Thanks to countless late nights and quarterly deadlines, we’ve also become a tight-knit family—hysterical with drama at times, but one that adores and counts on one another. As a kid, I was always looking for a warm, loving family, and fashion has given me that.

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  I love the process of designing as much as I ever have. I love the conversation with fabric, how it tells me what to do and takes me to places I wasn’t planning to go. I love the juxtaposition of combining something fluid, like jersey, with something tailored, like stretch wool. It’s a contradiction and a union, just like a man and woman. Relationships fascinate me.

  As a designer, the most profound relationship I have is with the body—how to sculpt and release, accent and delete. Black is my muslin, because you’re wearing a silhouette that goes from day into night. Your skin, hair, and personality are the focus. I want clothes to be a part of you, a supporting player in your story, never the story itself.

  That’s why I love stretch. Yes, it’s sexy, but it’s more about finding comfort. I hate restrictions of any kind (physical or psychological), and stretch gives you mobility. Putting stretch into a man’s jacket was pivotal, because they hadn’t known such comfort before. To me, comfort is another word for confidence.

  My Seven Easy Pieces were born out of wanting to give women confidence. My customer needed to go to work and feel good, but she didn’t have time to figure it out in the morning. So I edited her closet. I told her, “Here, star
t with a bodysuit, add a handful of pieces, and the outfits will create themselves. You’ll look chic, sophisticated, and as authoritative as any man in the room. Only you’ll look like a woman.” Remember, in 1985 professional women were wearing boxy suits and bowties to emulate men. My feeling was, You’re never going to fool anyone into thinking you’re a man, so for God’s sake, be a woman!

  One of my greatest pleasures in life is following a woman into the dressing room and taking her left when she thinks she’s going right. She wants to conceal, and I want to reveal. My underlying message is, “Don’t be afraid of your body. Embrace it. Celebrate it.” I’m sure I’ve improved sex lives.

  The artisan hand is integral to my design. I love taking a sculptural piece, whether a Robert Lee Morris gold disc or a Bill Morris glass one, and letting it ground and give shape to the fabric threaded through and around it. Similarly, I’d feel naked without one of my Haitian leather or horn necklaces and my leather arm bracelets. I also love anything that speaks of commitment to a larger cause, whether it’s a T-shirt that raises awareness or our leather wrap bracelets: Not One More (for gun safety) and Stand Up for Courage (against bullying).

  Inspiration fuels me. Every time I take a trip or spend time in nature, you see it in my clothes. Sometimes the inspiration is practical; Julie Stern jokes that he could always tell when it was a “fat Donna” collection (airy, full silhouettes) or a “skinny Donna” collection (long, lean, and formfitting). Yes, designing is highly personal.

  Then there’s my never-ending love affair with New York, a city that captures the energy of the world in one place. I’ve spent more than twenty-five years absorbing that energy and channeling it into the fast-fashion exuberance of DKNY street chic. I’ve designed clothes with sequins that shimmer like the skyline at night, patterns that echo subway graphics, and palettes that mimic glistening pavement and urban sunsets. DKNY has become a part of New York that touches people in Dubai, England, Russia, Japan—everywhere. I am so proud of what Jane Chung and I created together.