During World War Two I remember standing in total darkness in a corridor at our home in Versailles, listening to the bombs. I was two years old. The sound scared me so much that my parents sent me to their dear friends’ farm in Normandy, where I stayed for a long time. They called me “Lamb” and I called them “Shepherd’ and ‘Shepherdess”.
Mother was complicated: strict, sometimes very nervous, often furious for no reason. She fought a lot with my father. Inside and outside the house, she was two different people. The life she wanted was with her lover, but back then you didn’t get divorced.
Everyone in the family knew I was my father’s preferred daughter. My sisters accepted it because they could see how alike we were. Bruno Troublé, my funny, interesting brother, was known as “le ravissant” – “the ravishing” – by my mother. He was her favourite.
When I left my first marriage to Christian Bourgois, aged 20, I had no money. He paid my rent; the rest I had to manage. I sold my wedding jewellery and some furniture so I could feed our two children. Christian was an important literary publisher, but not a great husband. I kept the “B” for my surname, though.
Nice girls are always in danger. I broke my leg when I was 12 and had to stay at home for a month. My uncle came to see me every night and abused me. He was a great man, with three children, but he loved me too much. It inspired my film, My Name Is Hmmm, about a girl who was abused by her father.
The first Agnès B store in Paris was full of birds. We had two in a cage, then opened the door once they had babies. They added stray threads from the clothes to their nests and were very happy. In the end we had 35 birds, flying around to the sounds of Bob Marley and Roxy Music on the stereo.
David Bowie wore an awful brown pleated suit when I saw him in concert. I sent him a pair of black leather jeans with a note in the pocket that said “You should stick to a rock ’n’ roll style.” He bought more pieces from me, then I dressed him for 25 years including his 50th birthday at Madison Square Garden.
I love artists. In 1984 I opened my own gallery; many of my friends are artists and photographers. When I’m in London I visit Gilbert and George at their house in Fournier Street in Spitalfields and Jay Jopling from the White Cube. Tracey Emin and Martin Parr, I adore. For me, there’s a natural connection between art and designing clothes.
I hate fashion. It’s not interesting. I’ve never looked at what other designers are doing, I don’t go to shows, I don’t go shopping. I have no time for it. We never advertised Agnès B; advertising makes people silly. I still have my communist vision from the 60s.
Pierre Bergé [co-founder of Yves Saint Laurent] and I lay down in the middle of Rue de Rivoli to raise awareness of the Aids epidemic. We lost friends to the disease; it was a terrible time. Still now, we have a bowl of condoms in our shops. People help themselves without buying anything, but that’s OK.
Memories are good, but I’m not nostalgic. At 83, I don’t feel older than I did 10 years ago. I have interesting people around me: grandchildren and great-grandchildren, musicians, models, colleagues who keep me young. I’m never bored.
The new fragrance from Agnès B launches this autumn. Visit agnesb.com
