Stylist; Co-Founder, The Vernacular. New York
At this point, when we invited ourselves over to photograph someone at their home, we pretty much know what to expect, even if we’ve never met before we knock on their door—we’ve been doing this pretty steadily for five years, after all. A dapper menswear obsessive? Multiple mahogany closets and shoes stored on bookshelves. An Upper East Side doyenne? Art that auctions for north of six figures and an excess of Mary Katrantzou. A Parisian stylist? Lots of Miu Miu and Louis Vuitton, mixed with French classics. There are always little surprises along the way, but for the most part, we’d like to think we know what we’re getting into. Not so with Megan Gray. We were familiar with Gray long before we ever went to her apartment: she’s best friends and business partners on joint creative venture, The Vernacular, with Cov alum Patty Lu; and we were put on the scent of shooting her closet by a trusted editor source. We knew she would have the goods because of our abnormal street style stalking habit (Lu and Gray are the undercover queens of a great street style snap), but we didn’t think it would be, well, this. This being, first of all, a truly drool-worthy apartment—a Soho penthouse loft complete with bleached floors and a roof deck. And this being the closet situation, which was just a little OTT. We’ll put it this way: Gray is a consummate collector and fashion lover. And while she dresses the likes of Brit Marling for a living, you might say fashion is a hobby as well. On top of having individual dedicated cabinets for her Céline, Balenciaga, The Row and Mary Katrantzou (who’s a dear friend), Gray also keeps a somewhat mind boggling vintage collection on hand, including Alexander McQueen pieces that should probably be in a museum, and Fortuny and Schiaparelli dresses that were wrapped delicately in tissue paper. And then there were the special editions—like the Damien Hirst Manolos booties that had to stay in the box and one of those epic The Row alligator backpacks covered in gold dots (also by Damien Hirst). We left thinking that the woman deserved her own Met Costume Institute exhibit—just remember that you saw it here first.