When I was 11, I saw this ad for dish soap powder that said, 'Women all over America are fighting greasy pots and pans.' I was so angry. I couldn't understand why it didn't say men as well.

It was the late '70s when my parents met. My dad was a lighting director for a soap opera, and my mom was a temp at the studio. They moved into a house in The Valley in L.A., to a neighborhood that was leafy and affordable.

Throwing on a black dress with black tights, cute booties, a great coat and throw a scarf over it. I think simple accessories and, if you want to make a pop, a great red lip.

I'm deeply and passionately involved in the design process. I'm a brash American, and if my name is going to be on something, I'm going to have my say.

Some women are able to wake up looking effortlessly chic - as though a bevy of fashion fairies twisted their low-lit locks into a messy chignon while they slept. They choose a frock from their exceptionally curated closet and leave a trail of custom fragrance and perfection in their wake.

I've always had a propensity for getting the cursive down pretty well. What it evolved into was my pseudo-waitressing job when I was auditioning. I didn't wait tables. I did calligraphy for the invitations for, like, Robin Thicke and Paula Patton's wedding.