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Haley Schwartz was four years old when a machine attached to her chest dictated how she dressed. Sweatpants, oversized shirts, anything to blur the outline of wires and monitors humming against her ribs. She was confident, loud, curious, all the things a child should be, but her clothes were camouflage. They protected her from the questions she didn’t want to answer.
At 11, life shifted again. A head injury triggered dysautonomia, a disorder that disrupted the body’s autopilot. Her heart raced or stalled, her blood pressure dropped without warning, her temperature swung like a pendulum. Passing out became routine. Classrooms turned into fainting stages. Teachers misunderstood, friends pulled away, doctors doubted. And yet, in the middle of the chaos, Haley discovered a trick that would become a weapon. She dressed up for a doctor’s appointment. Nothing extraordinary, just something she loved. Suddenly the questions changed. The way she was treated shifted. For the first time, she felt heard.
That moment lingered like perfume. It showed her that clothing wasn’t shallow. It was power, armour, even voice. Years later, when she enrolled in the Fashion Institute of Technology, she carried that lesson into every sketch. While her classmates chased trends, she was sketching with dual vision. First, she imagined pure fashion, dramatic silhouettes, pieces that could hold their own on a runway. Then she bent them to serve another layer of need. Pockets that doubled as discreet openings for medical ports. Seams hiding feeding tubes. Cuts that flattered without trapping. Function disguised inside beauty.
She called the brand Vertige Adaptive. Vertige, French for vertigo, the dizzying sensation that has followed her since she was a child. Instead of rejecting it, she made it part of her aesthetic. Movement and balance run through her lines. Clothing sways with the body, not against it. Each design whispers possibility instead of restriction.
Haley never built the brand in isolation. She went online, asking strangers living with tubes, bags, ports, scars what they needed. They answered in floods. On TikTok, her ideas gathered thousands of followers in days. People wanted clothing that worked with their bodies without looking medical. They wanted dignity woven with style that allowed them to look like themselves again. Vertige became the answer.
One woman who uses a feeding tube was preparing for a work conference and asked for a dress to be shipped to her. When it arrived, she sent back a picture and a message that still echoes in Haley’s mind. “I feel like a pretty girl again. I haven’t worn a dress in years.” She wore that dress not only to the conference but to a retirement party and even a wake. It moved with her through every setting. That feedback, Haley admits, made everything worth it.
Her pieces don’t announce their purpose. A favourite of hers, the Adjustable Boot Cut Pants, look like sleek work trousers. But hidden tabs allow for three inches of adjustment, acknowledging the weight fluctuations that so often come with illness. They look sharp enough for an investor pitch but feel soft enough to nap in. Haley wears them herself constantly, proof that comfort and professionalism can share the same fabric.
Her own wardrobe reflects the ethos of Vertige. A Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress paired with knee-high black boots makes her feel unstoppable. Leather pieces are armour. She hates ballet flats and loafers because they feel like defeat. Even casual looks are assembled with intention. Every outfit says, I am here, I am worth noticing, I am not to be underestimated.
Vertige is young, but it is cutting through noise. Haley has shown in charity fashion shows and dreams of bigger stages. She wants her clothing to glide down runways where the applause is for beauty first, revelation second. The real win would be for someone to stop a stranger on the street, admiring a Vertige piece without realizing it was designed for adaptive function. That’s the magic she chases.
She is frank about the state of the industry. There are more adaptive options now than before, but not enough. Disabled people deserve the same abundance of choice that others take for granted. Budget, style, location . . . all of these factors shrink when options are limited to a handful of bland garments. Vertige pushes back with unapologetic chic.
Ask Haley what she would tell her younger self and she pauses before answering. “We accomplished what we wanted, but in a different way than we thought.” It is the kind of line that belongs stitched discreetly inside a seam, waiting for someone to discover it years later.
Clothing will never cure chronic illness, but it can rewrite how a person feels when they step into a room. Haley knows the difference between hiding under sweatpants and stepping into a dress that makes you feel like yourself. Vertige Adaptive is not pity dressed as fashion. It is power, glamour, function and freedom sewn into fabric. And for the people who wear it, that changes everything.
Inside Haley’s world
Haley’s style staples
- Black Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress
- Knee-high leather boots with a confident heel
- Buckled mid-calf boots for casual days
- Anything leather — “it feels like armour”
Power song
“I Lived” by OneRepublic, her go-to track when she needs a confidence lift.
Scent she loves
The men’s cologne Bleu de Chanel which smells like success. If softened with floral notes to make it feminine, that would be a mix she would love to be associated with her brand.
Unexpected must-have
A tube of Gisou lip oil is always in her bag.
Design secret
Adjustable Boot Cut Pants: sleek enough for a boardroom, comfortable enough to nap in, with hidden tabs to flex three inches for fluctuating weight.
Fashion pet peeve
Loafers and ballet flats . . . “not on my feet, ever.”
Drink of choice in the studio
LaCroix Limoncello sparkling water fuels her late-night sketch sessions.
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