Good morning everyone. First, and most importantly: Congratulations.

You should all be incredibly proud of this achievement. In a world that moves fast, where our attention is constantly being pulled in every direction, moments like this are rare. So I encourage you to pause, to take it in. You did this, and that is something worth celebrating.

It is an incredible honor to be standing here with you today — not only as a recipient of this honorary degree, but as someone who once sat where you are now — exactly 20 years ago.

I have to admit I was a little stunned when I got the call that I was receiving an honorary degree. Past recipients of this degree include Pulitzer Prize winners, civil rights leaders… Albert  Einstein. And now — me.

But standing here, I realize how full-circle this moment is. Swarthmore was the place that gave me the space to explore, dream, and become who I am today.

I arrived on this beautiful, wooded campus as an awkward teenage boy from Paris — entirely by accident. Or, more accurately, because of one of the Internet’s earliest algorithms.

Let me explain.

One of my favorite films as a teenager growing up in Paris was Ten Things I Hate About You. Shy, nerdy, and uncertain of what I wanted to do with my life, I recognized a little of myself in the angsty protagonist played by Julia Stiles. She was intellectual, a little antisocial, and fierce. I wasn’t fierce (yet), but she showed me a glimmer of something that lied within me.

In the film, she goes to Sarah Lawrence. So, naturally, 17-year-old me, at my family’s desktop computer, went to collegequest.com, and typed Sarah Lawrence in the search bar. There on this Sarah Lawrence-dedicated page appeared a little sidebar with a list of colleges that were similar. I only applied to Sarah Lawrence and those colleges. One of them happened to be Swarthmore.

When I arrived here, I felt somewhat as I do now. Like I didn’t belong, or fit the stereotype. But  this tiny liberal arts college in the wooded hills of Pennsylvania accepted and welcomed me. Sometimes to my own surprise.

Take, for instance, the fact that I somehow joined the track team and ran cross country — despite being a chain-smoking Parisian with zero athletic ability. I’m still not sure what either of us was thinking, because if there was one thing I definitely wasn’t… it was an athlete.

My junior year, when I decided I wanted to study fashion, there wasn’t a program for it. Instead of steering me in a different direction, the College said, “let’s figure it out.” I was able to build an independent curriculum that wove together art, art history, and sociology — something entirely my own. That kind of belief in a student’s vision, in their potential, even when it falls outside the  lines — that’s the gift of a place like Swarthmore.

It was that same spirit that allowed me to stage what may have been the College’s first fashion  show in Tarble — with the help of my friends and a not-insignificant amount of glue and staples. It was messy, homemade, totally wild — and completely formative. Swarthmore didn’t just accept me. It gave me the support to become who I was meant to be. Swarthmore believed in me, even before I fully believed in myself.

That belief carried me forward. Today, I run a global luxury fashion brand. I’ve shown on the  runways of Paris and New York over 30 times, have designed well over 50 collections. I starred  in a TV show, dressed Rihanna, Beyonce, Michelle Obama, among others. None of this  would’ve been possible without the spark of confidence Swarthmore lit within me.

Some would say that I’ve arrived. And that is what I want to talk about today — arriving — this notion that there’s some final destination, some moment where you’ll finally feel like you’ve made it.

I remember sitting where you are now and thinking that once I landed the right job, or staged a  real fashion show, or dressed a celebrity — then I’d feel complete. But I’m 40 now, and I can  tell you: That feeling doesn’t really exist. To be honest, there are days I still feel I have no idea what I am doing. I struggle with anxiety, I second-guess myself. I wake up at 3 a.m. convinced everything’s about to fall apart. There are moments at my own shows when I feel like an impostor. 

The truth is, there is no single moment when life clicks into place. No clear finish line. Life is not  a straight path — it’s a winding, sometimes messy, often magical series of detours.

In fact, some of the most meaningful things in my life have happened by accident. My first job in  fashion — at Marc Jacobs — happened because an intern alphabetized the résumés and mine was at the top. They were desperate and called me. I met my husband at the coat check of a nightclub. I was arriving. He was leaving. That was nearly 17 years ago. Now we have three beautiful kids  together.

What I’ve learned is that life doesn’t unfold like a runway show — there’s no neat  sequence, no lighting cues to tell you when it’s your moment. Sometimes you only  realize later that a moment mattered. That a failure taught you something. That a detour was a beginning in disguise.

I spent my early 20s in a cramped Brooklyn studio, launching my brand in the middle of a recession, surrounded by friends who believed in my dream even when it felt impossible. It was scrappy and chaotic — but it was also magic. And looking back, I wish I’d paused more often to take it in.

So, here’s my main point: Don’t wait to enjoy your life. Enjoy it now, even when it’s messy, even  when you’re staring into the unknown. Find beauty in the mundane, and even in the difficult moments that shape you. You don’t have to be thriving to be living fully. Happiness doesn’t wait  at the end of some long road. It is scattered all along the path, even in the places you don’t  expect.

Some of the most profound moments of peace I’ve felt weren’t during career highs or big  celebrations. They were quiet, ordinary moments — on a walk in the summer with my husband, listening to my daughter tell a story, holding my son as he slept on my chest. Moments that asked nothing of me but to be there.

So today, I leave you with this: Don’t live with your eyes fixed on the finish line. Life isn’t a race  to be won or a checklist to complete. The most meaningful parts often happen when you’re not  looking — when you take a wrong turn, say yes to the unexpected, or follow a thread just because it sparks something in you.

Trust the detours. Follow the accidents. Even the weird college search engines.

They might just lead you to cross-country races you never should have run, fashion shows held together with glue and staples, and a life far richer than anything you could have planned. 

Congratulations, Class of 2025. You’re already on your way. And I’m rooting for every one of you.