“Fashion is so important to me because of people more than trends. Everything I have on is collected. It tells a story about someone,” says the 23-year-old brunette Lindsey Thornburg— who wears floral leggings, a wool Pendleton, worn tee, and plaid blue cloak. True enough, the designer’s ensemble conveys remnants of a rebellious youth influenced by skate and punk culture, and of her visit to Machu Picchu, where she first gained the inspiration for her eponymous cloak label. She explains of her South American travels: “Once I went to Peru, I was overwhelmed by how people dress. Even though they’re living in what would be considered a barrio, they manage to create the most amazing textures with their fabrics.” Translating this style for a high-fashion audience, Thornburg’s luxury cloaks, combining colorful novelty prints with lush silk linings, can now be found draped on the shoulders of trendsetters from New York to Paris, as well as the racks at Oak and Barneys.

But what someone might not infer from her defining multi-layered aesthetic is that this current bi-coastal beauty— who splits her time between New York and Los Angeles— grew up on the scenic slopes of Aspen, Colorado, where she spent her days snowboarding and breathing crisp, fresh air. However, as her mantra follows: “Function comes first, then fashion will bloom out of it,” it’s no wonder that Thornburg’s design evolution led her to a unique brand of outerwear befitting the snowy setting of her childhood.

Joining Thornburg on a cloak-appropriate brisk day, psychoPEDIA met the designer at her Lower East Side studio to reminisce on her idyllic Aspen memories:

First scent you associate with Aspen?
Pine. You get off the airplane, and it’s a saturation of pine.

Most picturesque memory?
After it snows heavily, just sitting in trees, surrounded by powder— it’s the most silence you could imagine.

How did you view it as a teenager?
You couldn’t ask for a better surrounding to grow up in. To be able to let your teenage angst out on mountain sports was amazing.

Is the local experience very different from that of tourists?
Of course, but I think that adds to the beauty of it. When I was growing up there, the live-in population was 2,500, with a transient population of 30,000 in the winter. It had a worldly feeling, even though it was a small town. It has so much art and culture because of everybody going in and out. I was exposed to a lot, but kept sheltered at the same time. Not a lot of people get to grow up like that.

Who is the real community?
It’s an amazing mish-mash, similar to New York in a sense that random people have all shown up there. Anything from 60s hippies to old coal miners. Really wealthy people that come from everywhere, people that work at bars, and ski bums— a whole culture just there to utilize the mountains. The dichotomy between the poor and the rich there is weird. It was the kind of money where somebody’s grandfather has the patent on the toothpick or shopping cart. Being able to launch a rocket out of your backyard kind of money.

Is there a big snowboarding culture?
When I lived there, Aspen Mountain didn’t allow snowboarders. But there were three other mountains that did— Highlands, Buttermilk, and Snowmass, which is the best.

Was there a rivalry between snowboarders and skiers?
There’s always been. Teenagers are rabble-rousers. At the time, snowboarding was only about 10 years old. It took time for it to acclimate into ski culture and share the same mountains because they each had different affects on the snow. It’s indicative of having a younger culture move in on an older culture’s territory. It’s better now, especially since skiers are getting more tricky and aerial.

How would you spend a regular day with friends?
The center of town was a place called The Popcorn Wagon— an actual caboose from a train that was open. There was a guy there who’d make flavored popcorn. It was also a creperie, open all day until 4 am. It’s where we would gather, the whole sixteen people in my class, and then go up into the mountains.

Best sights that tourists might not know about?
Smuggler Mountain and The Grottos. There’s a pass only open three months of the year called Independence Pass— the most windy, scary road— only open in the summer, because it’s really treacherous. It’s where you find the Continental Divide, where the continent physically splits. There are communities back there, pretty much shut-ins, that only get traffic for those months. They’re like little archives, frozen in time.

Any notable locals?
Hunter S. Thompson lived there on Woody Creek Ranch until he died. He would come out with a shotgun if you went on his land and fire it in the air. Everybody messed with him. He was the legendary drunk getting DUIs every week. Growing up, he was known as the grumpy old man.

If you were to design cloaks around Aspen fashion, what would you create?
Probably something with fake fur. The style in Aspen is really showy and gaudy— rich skiers all glammed out. It’s like Vegas on ice sometimes.

First place you’d take a friend that’d never been?
Up the gondola to the top of Aspen Mountain to sit on the sundeck, and then snowboard. Then we’d go to the spa at The Little Nell at the bottom of the mountain.

Anything you appreciate about Aspen in retrospect that you couldn’t then?
In your teenage years, you take some things for granted. You just have that innate want to escape. But I never took it for granted. I always knew it was an amazing place.

~Leann Peterson


See more of Aspen with Lindsey’s suggestions:
Cooper Street; "The best for beer and shuffleboard— the stand-up kind with sandy tables."
Montagna Bar
Alternative Edge


First, second, and third photos by Leann Peterson
Fourth photo via Concierge
Fifth photo by jssteak via Flickr
Sixth photo by FritzGrueter via Flickr
Seventh photo via Destination360
Eighth photo courtesy of Snowboard Revolution
Ninth photo via Webshots Outdoors
Tenth photo by Klieg via Flickr
Eleventh photo by Alvin Pastrana via Flickr
Twelfth photo by charleybarley via Flickr