For a certain stylish demographic, Ulla Johnson’s printed dresses, off-kilter knits, and smartly tailored denim are as good as it gets, wardrobe-wise. (Scan the dining room during service at hot spots ranging from Lilia, in Brooklyn, to Chiltern Firehouse, in Marylebone, and you’ll see what we mean.) Johnson’s success and ubiquity happened gradually, and then suddenly—the native New Yorker has been churning out increasingly accomplished collections since 1998, not long after she had graduated from college. In 2023, she will open up her third boutique, in Los Angeles. Now, as Johnson enjoys the last few weeks of summer in Montauk, she reveals her key components to the good life. —Ashley Baker
Airline: Aero.
Airport: Madrid-Barajas Airport. The sweeping, undulating ceilings are a thing of beauty.
Alibi: “I was in a fitting.”
App: Dark Sky. I’m obsessed with checking the weather!
Bag: One that’s hands-free.
Bedtime: 10:30 p.m.
Birthday Destination: I spent one with my nine-year-old in Kyoto during cherry-blossom season; it was heavenly.
Breakfast, weekday: Matcha.
Breakfast, weekend: Sheep’s-milk yogurt and berries.
Car: A vintage Mercedes-Benz convertible or Jeep Wagoneer.
Child: I have three!
Cocktail: An ice-cold glass of Ruinart champagne.
Cocktail appetizer: Caviar.
Couple: Jay-Z and Beyoncé.
Date: Brooklyn Botanic Garden.
Diet: Never.
Dinner, weekday: At home.
Dinner, weekend: Sunset at Duryea’s, in Montauk, a family summer ritual.
Disguise:
Sunglasses and an arresting frock.
Dress: Conversation-starting.
Drive: I’d prefer not to.
Enemy: My schedule.
Escape: On a hiking trail somewhere verdant with my kiddos.
Excuse: “My schedule is a mess.”
Family: Mine.
Flaw: Perfectionism.
Foil: Gold.
Good-bye: “Ciao.”
Hideaway: My home in Montauk.
Hotel: Aman.
Jacket: My mom’s vintage work shirt with her self-portait markered on it.
Last Meal: Rabbit ragout and fava-bean salad.
Lunch, weekday: Balthazar salad and an Arnold Palmer.
Lunch, weekend: Long and leisurely with a Montenegro spritz.
Match: Nets versus Lakers.
Movie: Fantastic Mr. Fox.
Nonfiction book: The Second Sex, by Simone de Beauvoir.
Novel: As I Lay Dying, by William Faulkner.
Pajamas: Florentine nightie.
Pants: Our Genevieve jean.
Pet: Daphne, my vizsla—the most lovable being.
Piece of advice: “Be kind.”
Podcast: Radiolab.
Restaurant: Roman’s, in Fort Greene.
Ride: A Danish bicycle.
Saying: “Everything, all the time.”
Singer: Billie Holiday.
Socks: None.
Spouse: Zach.
Storm: A passing tropical shower followed by rainbows.
Television series: Succession.
Theme song to your life: “So Little Time,” by Hannah Dean.
Time of day: Sunset.
Toast: “Žíveli.”
Vacation: Anywhere. I’ll try anything once. Well, I really don’t want to go to Vegas.
View: My garden.
Wake-up time: 6:30 a.m.
Weekend bag: Our Albers tote.
Work of art: Sheila Hicks’s Asclepion, 2018.
Ulla’s Essentials
