A first meeting with local artist and designer Rebecca Vandersteen is something of a revelation. Everything she does is rooted in her philosophy to remake the world through art: Spending your days in the Tenderloin doesn't always make for poetry, but in the hands of this woman, everything is worth a second look. Her exquisite store, Venus Superstar (now aged five, the older sister to her two daughters), focuses on locally made arts, jewelry, clothing and shoes. It may sound like just another boutique, but this is where things get interesting: Everything in the store, from deconstructed vintage to jewelry and classic shoes (like a killer pair of early Bruno Magli flats) to Vandersteen’s own handiwork, is one of a kind.

After a stint in London, the Bay Area native found herself back in giddy, late '90s San Francisco when her sculptural, recycled leather work caught the eye of buyers at seminal couture emporiums Taxi and Rolo. Her first cuffs of leather and chain, simultaneously tough and delicate,changed everything.

"I was supposed to be a singer in a band, going crazy, having it all and burning out," claims a truly bewildered Vandersteen. "I never expected to be here."

Difficult to pin down, the pieces that Vandersteen creates are at once sublime and earthly, and while it's enough to see her assemblages as art, wearing them completes the circuit. As something of a conductor of bricolage, she reworks space. She says she can't always tell what a piece will be when she begins, declaring that accident is everything.

"You never know what is going to happen," the designer admits. "I didn't go to school for this, but discovered education is in the cracks; the more mistakes you make, the better your chances – the more you learn in spite of yourself."

The importance of recycling is a common thread through the work she carries in Venus Superstar – a place that feels like more than a boutique, since it has the effect of a curator's touch.

"Absolutely, it's a boutique in disguise," Vandersteen says. "So much of everything is collaboration; it's what gets me out of bed in the morning. If someone asks me, I will be able to tell them who made this work, who the artists are, where I think they're going."

Though Vandersteen doesn’t play favorites, these days she is especially taken with the stitch work of Miranda Caroline and the one-off designs of Jessica Summers' line, I.Kohl. Both designers refuse to repeat themselves, which squares with the ethics of the woman who hosts their work.

"The fact that I'm taking work that may be just on its way means that I'm taking a chance," she says. "But if you don't give people a chance, how will they know where they can go with it? I'm much more interested in art from the heart as opposed to the mass-produced. We're small now but one of us will make a major change. In the future I'll hear that so-and-so is the next Alexander McQueen, and I will know I was a part of that process."

Things change constantly in Venus Superstar, so don't count on seeing the same work from week to week. To sweeten the deal, bring in some high-quality art and fashion magazines for Vandersteen and her colleagues to turn into their shopping bags (again, one-offs, and collectibles) and receive 10% off of your purchase.

Venus Superstar, 1112 Sutter (@ Larkin), 415.749.1978.

“If you don't give people a chance, how will they know where they can go with it? We're small now but one of us will make a major change.”
– Rebecca Vandersteen

Obviously motivated by the combined effort of working with other artists and designers, Vandersteen is as much a champion of potential energy as the early fans who started her career were, preferring to carry rougher-hewn pieces and avant-garde designs that challenge concepts about what we wear and who is responsible for clothing us.

The roots of her aesthetic become clear when she talks about the parallel between her seven-year-old self and who she is now.

"The first thing I ever made was a pair of shoes. My neighbor had these Dr. Scholl's that I just loved – they were so noisy, clomp-clomp-clomping around. I was always into music, and all noise was enticing. So I carved some scrap wood, cut up one of my dad's floral '70s belts, and just put these shoes together."

     
 
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