The Stories Our Clothing Holds
When I think about clothing, I don’t think about fabric first. I think about memory.
I think about the moments a piece collects as you live in it, the emotions stitched into each hem, the versions of yourself you meet while wearing it.
My earliest memories are tied to clothes. I can recall entire life chapters not by dates, but by outfits: the colors, the textures, the feelings they carried. Clothing has always been my emotional archive.
This is why fashion never felt superficial to me. It felt like storytelling.
Even then, it wasn’t just about the clothes themselves. I’ve always felt most like myself when I’m wearing something on my head, whether it’s a hat or a headband. No matter what season of life I’ve been in, or how my personal style has shifted over the years, there has always been a certain style that completes me. It’s the final step, the moment when I feel truly finished getting dressed and fully myself.
My Grandmother’s Hands
My love for clothing began with my Grandma Mayella. She made me custom pieces when I was young: a poodle skirt so I could live out my Bye, Bye Birdie obsession in real life, custom dresses to wear on vacation, or even modifying my regular straight-leg jeans into bell bottoms so I could be a real-life hippie.
With her, clothing felt sacred. No store-bought piece could compare to the love sewn into those garments she made just for me.
My grandmother made clothes for me when I was little. Before she died, she loved wearing a sweatshirt I designed for Berried Alive, and I think about that more often than I ever expected to.
She taught me that clothes are not just worn. They are made intentionally, by human hands. And when someone makes something just for you, you feel seen.
This truth became the backbone of House of Caswell.
Jan Brady at the Birthday Party
Another early lesson came in kindergarten. I had been invited to a birthday party, and even though it was the 90s, I was obsessed with The Brady Bunch reruns on TV Land. I chose an argyle sweater mini dress inspired by Jan Brady.
I felt confident, expressive, very “Jan.”
At pickup, the birthday girl marched up to my mom, outspoken as ever, and informed her:
“Her dress was too short.”
I still laugh about it.
To me, it wasn’t too short. It was accurate. That’s how Jan wore her dresses. But more importantly, that moment revealed something I’ve held onto ever since.
People will always have opinions about what you wear.
But those opinions don’t define you.
Clothing is not a moral statement. It’s a creative one.
Even as a child, I realized our bodies are our canvases, and clothing is the art we choose to create on them.
Whispers in the Hallway
Growing up in a small, not-very-fashion-forward school, I knew my outfits stood out. I wore bold, playful, sometimes unconventional clothes, and I adored them.
I remember hearing girls, even friends, whisper about what I wore behind my back.
I secretly loved it.
It meant I was expressing myself. It meant I was creating my own story, colorful, fun, unapologetically mine. Sometimes that story was told through a dress, sometimes through a jacket, and sometimes through a hat worn just a little too confidently for the room.
Clothes became my first act of rebellion and my first act of self-love.
Why I Design the Way I Do
Every House of Caswell collection comes from these memories, from the understanding that clothing is emotional, autobiographical, and deeply personal.
I design for the woman who sees clothing as a companion through life:
• For fictional trips and imagined adventures, as in Still Life.
• For meaningful seasons and transitional eras, as in the future 4/13/73 Collection.
• For confidence, for becoming, for remembering.
Women deserve clothing that honors the stories they’re living and the stories they will someday look back on.
My hope is that the pieces I create become part of those stories. Sometimes that final piece is a garment. Other times, it’s something smaller, like a headband that pulls everything together. Those details matter to me because they’re often the most personal. They’re the quiet choices we make for ourselves, the ones that make us feel complete before we ever step out into the world. Artifacts of joy. Symbols of confidence. Echoes of moments that matter.
Clothes should be colorful, fun, expressive, and deeply personal.
They should remind you of who you are and who you were brave enough to become.
If clothing holds memory for you, too, I’d love to continue the conversation.
The Collector’s List is where I share new work first — stories behind the garments, limited releases, and pieces created with intention.
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