Loose Threads: Lulu Graham

Lulu Graham, accompanied by Jane, a mischievous Welsh Terrier, opens the door to her Upper East Side apartment and welcomes us into a beautiful morning in New York. Just cold enough for an autumn jacket under clear blue skies. Born and raised in Atlanta, Lulu made New York her home eight years ago.  

Lulu and Jane are taking us to E.A.T., on Madison Avenue, where the coffee comes in impeccable silver along with big bright fresh glasses of orange juice. A plate of cookies, thick sweet jams, and crusty breads accompany. Inside, counters overflow with cakes, bagels, pastries, pastrami and whitefish.   

It’s the kind of impeccable, generous and easy experience New York does perfectly. Jane barks lovingly at passers-by, pedestrians and waiters. Just round the corner from The Met, over the years E.A.T., helped by its proximity to that famed institution, has become something of a cultural, artworld, and celebrity haunt, with a range of clientele stretching from Jane Didion to Andy Warhol, from local families to anyone searching for a delicious lunch. It’s a great spot for people watching.

If you know Lulu it’ll mostly likely be through Outfit Dissecting, an interview project that delved into her love of clothes, specifically the peculiar intricacies and foibles of people’s personal style; how and why we dress and the narratives and stories that form around the endlessly simple choice of what to wear today. She would visit people whose style she liked, or found interesting, and interview them to uncover the stories that underpinned their choices of garment. 

“Every item someone wears has a story. Whether it’s a ring or a scarf—there’s always a reason behind it. We forget that sometimes,” Lulu explains.  

Drake’s: What are your earliest memories of fashion? Was there a favorite garment you had growing up, or something you loved as a child?

Lulu: I’ve always loved clothes. My dad carried a Leica camera with him everywhere, and there are so many photos of me laying out outfits on the floor, lining up shoes, and playing dress-up. I loved playing “store” with my clothes.

The first fashion memory I have of wanting something for myself was a Crewcuts dress when I was about six. It was floral with little ruffles. Around the same time, we came to New York for the first time, and I got a camel pea coat. That was probably one of the first moments that really sparked my interest in clothes.

My parents both have great taste. They worked hard to find interesting clothes for us and always let me pick out my outfit. I wore Converse, jeans, and T-shirts as a little kid—which felt kind of rare at the time. I think having that freedom and those cool clothes made a big difference and made me appreciate style early on.

“Clothes can connect people from every generation; it’s my favorite thing about them. To me, there is no better compliment than someone much older, or much younger wanting to talk about what you’re wearing.”

Did you always want to work in fashion?

Definitely. In junior high, I really wanted to work in fashion. Back then, it meant magazines to me—the Teen Vogue Handbook opened my eyes to that whole world. It felt so mysterious. Now, teenagers have TikTok and can see behind the scenes at runway shows. We just had magazines, blogs, and our imaginations.

When I moved to New York, I worked in fashion, doing Garment District internships and all that. That’s actually what made me realise I didn’t want to work in fashion, or at least that kind of fashion. But that’s also when I got really into vintage. I realised I didn’t love the new clothes I was seeing, but I loved menswear and vintage. My grandmother has kept everything, so I started going through her closets and pulling out pieces I loved. 

Was there a particular vintage piece or moment that opened that world for you?

When I first moved to New York, I only brought a carry-on—some vintage Levi’s, a Saint James shirt, a pair of Blundstones. I wore the same outfit for weeks. You really get to know yourself when you don’t have much to choose from.

My grandfather had a hunting jacket that he had inherited from his dad, and I wore it a lot when I first got here. People would stop me on the street to ask about it, and I’d get to tell them the story about this jacket. That made me realise how vintage clothing can be a conversation starter.

I remember wearing my mom’s original Patagonia Retro-X fleece to school in seventh grade—she’d worked in a store that sold Patagonia in the 1990s—and a teacher told me how cool this jacket was. That moment stuck with me. Clothes can connect people from every generation; it’s my favorite thing about them. To me, there is no better compliment than someone much older, or much younger, wanting to talk about what you’re wearing. 

“Everyone has a relationship with clothes. You get dressed every day and decide how you’re going to face the world. Clothes can be a form of storytelling.”

And you start finding a little community of people who also think that way.

Exactly. When I moved here, one of the first places I went was the Drake’s store. Everyone there was into vintage and menswear, which wasn’t something I’d really experienced before. That’s when I realised this was a real community, and that it could be a job. 

Breakfast dispensed with, we cross the street opposite the Met and head into Central Park, to be greeted by a classic New York scene: it’s warm now and there are some brave sunbathers on Cedar Hill, model boats on the lake, Art Deco skyscrapers jut over the trees, joggers do laps. A wide array of dogs of different descriptions are being walked and presented to Jane for investigation. 

“I’m endlessly inspired by the characters I see on the street in New York, there’s such a great energy to what people wear,” she says. “But I also love speaking to people. Once I’d moved to New York, I started to meet all these vintage collectors and dealers—people who were so kind, interesting, and genuinely excited about clothes. That side of fashion felt really real and inspiring to me.” For today’s shoot Lulu’s brought together her archive of her most treasured vintage pieces to be styled alongside a selection of Drake’s pieces.   

After Jane has stretched her legs, we head to UES institution JG Melon’s for lunch. We order cheeseburgers and club sandwiches so big you struggle to fit them in your mouth. JG Melon’s is that classic kind of place that feels resolutely unchanging. Dark and cosy, its interior decorated with a thousand artworks almost all, predominantly, depicting those titular melons. Its distinctive interior has popped up in everything from Kramer vs Kramer to Whit Stillman’s Metropolitan. Both former mayor, Michael Bloomberg, and supermodel Gigi Hadid have extolled the virtues of its famous hamburger. 

It’s everything Lulu likes in a place, and reflective of her style and approach in some way too, very classic, very lived in, but also welcoming and idiosyncratic.  

Can you tell me more about Outfit Dissecting and how it started?

When you really love something, you want to talk about it. That’s why I started Outfit Dissecting. I once interviewed my old teacher. He didn’t work in fashion at all, but the way he talked about what he wore was incredible. Everyone has a relationship with clothes. You get dressed every day and decide how you’re going to face the world.

When I moved here, I hadn’t really done interviews with people before, but people were so eager to share their stories, to talk about what’s in their closets, what a certain piece means to them. That’s when I understood that clothes can be a form of storytelling.

You aren’t doing so many interviews anymore though. 

It’s become a lot more about shopping than I expected, but that’s what people seem to want. But that also happened because I had to stop doing interviews during COVID, since I used to visit people’s homes. I’d love to start again, I love talking to people about what they wear. They light up when they tell those stories.

Were there any interviews or people that stood out from your Outfit Dissecting days?

Yes—Ann Mashburn. I grew up in Atlanta and worked at Mashburn in high school, so talking to her was special. Visiting her first shop as a kid made me realise you could actually have a career in clothing. Talking to her as an adult felt like a full circle moment.

When I was younger, I spent hours on Polyvore making outfits. Teachers would tell my parents, “Don’t let her waste time on that—she’ll never get a job doing that.” But they were wrong and that kind of creative expression led me here. Ann reminded me that you really can do what you love.

Has talking to all those people changed the way you dress?

It definitely gave me the freedom to just wear what I want. When I started doing those interviews, it was pre-TikTok, and trends moved slower. You could look at someone and guess what kind of music or movies they liked. Now, it’s harder to tell.

But that also reinforced this feeling that personal style matters more than trends. Working in fashion pushes you toward certain things, but talking to people about their wardrobes reminded me to stay true to what I love.

Who are your style heroes?

My parents—they both dress really well. I’ve always loved old family photos, especially from the 40s, 50s, and 60s. Women’s style back then was incredible—when they wore real menswear pieces, not “menswear-inspired” clothing. They’d just take something from their boyfriend’s closet and make it their own.

Last question—what do you want to buy next?

A pair of black boots. There’s a French brand called La Botte Gardiane that makes beautiful handmade shoes. I like to wear my clothes into the ground, so I want something sturdy. I’m always hunting for jeans and vintage sweaters, too. And I love little neck scarves—especially in fall. I love dressing for fall, actually I think I’m going to treat myself to a new Drake’s silk bandana. 

Thank you so much, Lulu!