As the old proverb goes, ‘Behind every good man is a great woman.’ The idea that Proenza Schouler is simply the two of us – two guys, now in our mid-30s – calling the shots, couldn’t be further from the truth. As our company has steadily grown and evolved over its 14 years of existence, one constant remains and it’s that this company has been completely built and run by women. Of the nearly 200 people who make up our teams, 95 percent are women. They are the true engine and heartbeat of Proenza Schouler.

Growing up in the 1980s, one of us in Miami, the other in Tokyo (before ending up in Montclair, New Jersey), we had radically different experiences, but we shared one common thread, and it is possibly the catalyst that brought us together in the first place. Each of us felt deeply as if we never quite fitted in. Square pegs in round holes. We both felt much more comfortable spending time with our sisters and mothers in the salon or in the kitchen making things, than hanging out with our dads and brothers out on a sports field somewhere.

The situation was put into sharp relief during our early school days – a time when the world was not as open as it is today – where being an outsider presented its unique challenges. The heat we each felt from those who didn’t understand us was only dampened down by turning further towards the world we knew, the world in which we felt protected and accepted: the world of women, a world that to this day brings us the greatest joy and is the reason why we do what we do.

Lazaro Hernandez: My mother used to have a beauty salon in Miami when I was growing up. After school, when many of my friends were getting ready to practice for whatever sports team they were on, my mother would pick me up from school and take me back to her salon where she had to work until the early evening getting her ladies ready for whatever big night was ahead of them. Hair, makeup and fashion were all topics of constant conversation. I always had one eye on whatever boring book I had to read for school and the other fixed on these incredible creatures, one more beautiful and exotic than the next. I would wait patiently for one of them to call me over to help with a busted zipper or to unpack a dress they had brought with them. The intimacy of the collaboration, the inherent vulnerability present in the process, and the eventual confidence and strength when it all came together, were all things that definitely resonated with me. My mother suspected how into it all I was and I cannot thank her enough for letting me be a part of it, and for not forcing me to hang out with the other boys doing the things I’m sure she felt pressure from my dad to make me do. Her love and acceptance of me trumped all the social pressures I’m certain she endured. True love.

Jack McCollough: I grew up in a house of five kids with a dad who at the time, at least –it was the 1980s in New York – seemed to have a big and important job on Wall Street. We’ve all seen that movie before. He had endless events in the city every week and my mom was always invited to go along with him. She honestly had no interest in most of those people, but she did have a secret passion for the dressing-up bit. She was a stay-at-home mom during the day and dealing with the five of us was truly the harder of the two jobs. I used to love watching her get ready for her big nights out. Suspecting that I had a burgeoning interest in making things, and possibly in the craft of making clothes, she surprised me on my 12th birthday with my own sewing machine. It sounds so embarrassing to admit it now, but that was a sort of a turning point for me. I delved into learning the ins and outs of that machine and started to make things for myself at first and eventually, as a teenager, I had the confidence to start making things for friends. My mother was truly my first introduction to fashion and the catalyst to the road I’m currently on.

Lazaro: As I got older I tried to conform to the norms around me and even got myself a girlfriend (a best friend really) as a way of fitting in. After high school, I enrolled in a big old traditional university studying medicine. I’m not sure what I was thinking. At first, and this I find telling, I wanted to be an obstetrician-gynaecologist (the thought of which makes my stomach curl today). It was, in retrospect, an attempt to be closer to the people that I felt most comfortable around: women. When the whole thing started to freak me out, I turned to plastic surgery as it somehow seemed easier, less invasive, and more in line with the things I was slowly becoming more interested in, namely, the world of aesthetics. It wasn’t until I was faced with the reality of having to cut people open that I secretly applied to Parsons in New York; I’d heard it had the best fashion-design programme around. I applied without telling anyone and left my destiny up to some higher power. If I got accepted, which was highly unlikely as I had never taken any art classes and had a laughable portfolio, I would ditch pre-med and move to New York to study fashion. If it didn’t pan out, which I figured was more likely than not, I would stay in Miami and finish medical school. By some stroke of luck, I was accepted and that was that. I told my family what I was doing and moved to New York. A year later I met Jack and three years later we started Proenza Schouler.

Jack: As my sisters grew up, the fashion game with my mom became their turf, which was fine by me, as I had, by that time, turned my attention to the arts. I was going to a pretty strait-laced high school in Montclair where sports were king and the classic jock stereotype was all too familiar. I started to act up and became difficult for my parents to deal with; in retrospect, I was simply rebelling against a world I just didn’t belong in. Things came to a head when I was expelled from school for smoking weed with some friends. That really felt like the end of my life, but actually it ended up being the very thing that set me on the path I am still on today. My parents knew better than to force me into another one of those preppy schools and instead enrolled me at Walnut Hill, a boarding school in Massachusetts that specializes in the arts, and was away from everyone and everything I had known. It was incredible how I changed overnight. All of a sudden I was surrounded by people just like me – kids interested in the arts – in a place where being gay was sort of the norm. For the first time in a long time, I felt I was finally myself. After high school, I moved to San Francisco to study painting and glassblowing, but I missed New York and felt as though I was working in the wrong field, so I quickly transferred to Parsons and enrolled in the fashion-design department where I met Lazaro. The rest is history.

Proenza Schouler would not be what it is today without the many women along the way, many of whom are still part of our family 14 years in, women who pushed us along and helped us over every hurdle. Women like Grace, whose wisdom and guidance we have used as a beacon of light over the years. Women like Camilla, whose cool and understanding of the world fills us with inspiration every day. Women like Ashley who, acting as far more than casting director, helps us push the brand forward year after year and shape whatever abstract idea we might be tossing around. Women like Julia, Selena and Natalie who give life to the clothes we make and inspire us the end of every season. There are too many women to list here and there aren’t enough pages in this magazine to spotlight all the women who have helped us get to where we are today. We have nothing but love and admiration for what they all have done and continue to do for us. The sensitive balancing act of juggling the demands of this business and motherhood is awe-inspiring. When we feel overwhelmed or run down by the demands of our own lives we look up to them – and their firm grip on their own lives fills us with strength and gives us the ability to push forward. These are our heroes, our mentors, our mothers, and our friends. The story of Proenza Schouler is one written chiefly by these beautiful, strong, brave and inspiring women.

Snow Farm

By 2008, the city had become too much for us. Every day had become some kind of social commitment or obligation, and it had really started to wear us down. We were finding it difficult to focus on the creative side of things when day after day was being spent in meetings and later at night, at whatever party or event our friends were up to. We needed to escape New York, but we also needed to find a balance. So, unable to make a permanent break because of what we had built there, we did the next best thing: we bought Snow Farm, a dilapidated, early American colonial property in Sandisfield, Massachusetts. When we happened upon it, we made the commitment to bring it back to its original glory. We immediately built a working studio in the woods where we have since drawn every single collection over a three-week period a few months before every show. We go up there whenever possible, whenever the noise of the city becomes overwhelming, and when a bit of the outdoors is the thing we crave. It has become our sanctuary and our personal space away from it all.