Jenny Tsiakals, Please and Thank You!

I worked for Marc Jacobs for a long time. They were family to me, but I was diagnosed with a form of leukemia in 2011 and it changed my entire perspective on life and work. The doctors gave me a 34 percent chance of survival, and up to four to six years of life. I fought so hard to beat those odds, so I don’t ever want to do anything that doesn’t bring me personal joy or meaning. I was making good money at Marc Jacobs, but money doesn’t equate to happiness or purpose. That’s why I started this business.

In 2013, I started selling my collection at the Fairfax Flea Market to prepare to leave Marc Jacobs and move out of LA. I’ve been a collector my entire life, and started buying vintage at 10. Selling at the flea market, I met all these characters and weirdos and fell in love with it all. That’s where I first met Hedi and so many clients I still work with today. It felt like all of these orphaned items I had rescued over the years were being sent off to their rightful homes.

I’m usually on the road 15 days a month finding things across the country. I sleep in my van in parking lots, and sometimes I drive over 4,000 miles in 15 days. I also have pickers around the country, usually older antique dealers that I've built relationships with. I started working at the Illinois Antique Center when I was 14 and am still friends with a lot of people I met there. They are from the Midwest, and what they think is special are fur coats and prom dresses, so I’ve had to train them. For me, what’s the most special are the everyday, ordinary clothes that people wore. Those are the ones with real stories—my favorite pieces.

There’s no need to make new things. Everything is already out there. For brands like Denim Tears, Election Reform, and Eckhaus Latta, I find hundreds of old t-shirts and sweatshirts for them to reuse. We have this “hypebeast” mentality where people fight to get the most hyped thing but there’s no time to even appreciate it before the next thing comes. If you want something exclusive, buy vintage; it’s the most exclusive and one-of-a-kind.

I work with over 150 brands, from huge labels to very small projects. The store has become an inspiration library for them. My last appointments before going into quarantine were with TAKAHIROMIYASHITA TheSoloist. and Off-White men’s. Typically, design teams share references and directives. I give my suggestions and they go through my archive to find inspiration pieces to take back or make a pattern from. Clients like GAP, Levi’s or UNIQLO’s denim teams come to find old worn out jeans for wear patterns, washes or custom repair methods. I also source vintage fabric for Bode. What gets me out of bed every day is the possibility and excitement of finding things that can inspire others—to create a connection between the past and future.

I had all these t-shirts with stains that I could not get out, so I just started drawing on them. People really liked them and the shirts would sell out immediately. For Brain Dead, I was scribbling on pieces of paper while I was talking with them instead of taking notes. I drew these organic creatures, and they were like, “Can we just take these?”

My job is also my hobby, which is the same with artistic projects. I started dyeing clothes because I wanted to see what would happen, mostly by accident. I didn’t think that bleach dye stuff would hit the way it did, but now it’s everywhere. I’ve worked with Target’s design team, which is so weird for me. It's crazy to see that dyed clothes have come all the way to being at Target. Bizarre.

I’m taking this time of social distancing to understand the correlation between my business and myself, and the connection that people have with clothing. When this quarantine first started, I asked myself if I should start selling online, but the answer for me is no. My business is all about personal connection, plus it doesn’t feel responsible right now. Some people have wanted to buy things from me during this time, but I’ve asked them to wait until this whole thing is over.

I’m at home in Highland Park with my dog, Jeane. I set up a work space in my backyard. I had hundreds of deadstock cotton military liners in storage, so I brought them home. I make dyes with onion peels, tumeric and other trash items. You can make all kinds of dyes with things from home. You can even use dirt! I’m trying to find a routine during all this. I’m taking this as an opportunity to recharge creatively and find solace—because I am scared.

The distance and loneliness doesn’t actually feel that uncomfortable to me. I grew up in the middle of nowhere Illinois. As a half Korean, half Greek kid, growing up in a small Midwest town was already isolating and lonely. I’ve become pretty good at navigating uncertainty.

My business is an extension of me, so I’m trying to challenge myself to embrace vulnerability in both business and life. Right now, being vulnerable is not worrying about the health of my business, but worrying about the health of my neighbors and friends. My tendency has been to only post photos of clothes and the facts about them on social media, but these days I’m sharing aspects of my personal life. I’ve literally cold-called people I haven’t talked to in 20 years. I’m trying to learn how to be a better friend and to listen. This is an opportunity to envision and reimagine what real change can look like, but nothing will change unless we change within ourselves.