The Fabric of Giving

Barbara Bates has always had an eye for fashion. As a child in the early 1960s, she spent hours dressing, undressing, and redressing her Barbie doll, captivated by the impeccable quality of the doll’s tiny, packaged wardrobes. Though she didn’t yet understand the distinction between well-crafted and poorly made clothing, she was drawn to quality. That instinct, she later realized, was shaped by the women in her life—her mother and aunts—who were always impeccably dressed.

Fashion in Her BloodThat early fascination with fashion turned into self-expression by the time she reached high school. Unlike many of her classmates, she stood out for her unique style. She had a job, her own money, and a friend who could sew. Together, they turned fabric from Marshall Field’s into custom outfits that reflected her vision.

One of the biggest moments of her high school years was the Marshall High School senior Sharpie Dance, a milestone she had always looked forward to. Determined to stand out, she entered the Sharpie dress competition, wearing a garment she had designed. She won ‘Best Dressed’ and was featured in the yearbook, crowned Miss Sharpie by none other than radio legend Herb Kent, the Cool Gent.

Her love for fashion extended beyond school dances. At parties, she always wore outfits that drew attention, sparking questions about where she had bought them. Her answer was always the same: she had designed them herself. Soon, word spread, and what began as compliments turned into a small business. Co-workers and friends became customers, and before long, strangers were seeking her out to buy her designs.

The turning point came when she lost her job. Instead of feeling defeated, she saw an opportunity. A client, impressed by her talent and growing customer base, suggested they become business partners. “You have the talent, and you're already selling to people in the street,” the client told her. “Let’s start a business.”

With that push, Bates took a leap of faith. In 1986, she found a space, placed an ad for tailors, and officially launched her fashion business. From that moment, she says, it was “straight to the moon.”

Breaking BarriersAs her business grew, so did her ambitions. She eventually moved north to Delaware Street, just steps from Chicago’s Magnificent Mile, the city’s answer to Rodeo Drive and Fifth Avenue. Setting up shop in one of the world’s most expensive shopping districts was no small feat—especially for a Black designer. Though she can’t officially claim to be the first Black-owned fashion boutique in the area, her presence was a rarity.

The opportunity came through a friend who owned a hair salon nearby. He had noticed how often his clients admired Bates’ outfits when she stopped by. When he learned she had designed them herself, he made her an offer she couldn’t refuse—a small retail space next door, rent-free for a year.

Bates jumped at the chance. She transformed the space at 110 East Delaware into her boutique, showcasing her designs to a whole new clientele. The high-end location brought in a different kind of customer—people who lived in the neighborhood and had the means to invest in custom fashion. Word spread quickly, with new clients coming in because they had seen someone else wearing her work. It was a shift from her earlier customers, who worked hard to afford their purchases. Now, she was designing for people who could readily afford the craftsmanship and originality she had always valued.

A New MissionYears into her career, Bates’ growing success took an unexpected turn toward philanthropy. One day, a woman called her out of the blue, asking if she was the same Barbara Bates who had once attended Family Living Center, an alternative school for teen mothers. The question caught her off guard. She confirmed that she was, but was curious why the woman was asking.

It turned out the caller had been a classmate at the center and had been following Bates’ career ever since. She still remembered how, even as a teenager, Bates had talked about becoming a fashion designer. The conversation stayed with Bates, reminding her of how far she had come—and of the young women who might need the same kind of support and inspiration she had once needed.

That moment planted the seed for what would later become the Barbara Bates Foundation. Though the foundation wasn’t established until years later, Bates had already begun giving back in quiet ways. Her journey from a West Side teen mom to a designer dressing athletes and high-profile clients had been anything but traditional. And now, she was determined to use her platform to uplift others.

The Birth of a MissionWhen Barbara Bates walked into Bethany Hospital that day, she had no idea what she was going to say. In front of her sat a group of young girls, ages 11 to 15, all pregnant. She hadn’t committed to speaking, hadn’t prepared a speech—so she did the only thing that felt natural. She told them her story.

As she shared her journey, the emotions she had buried for years resurfaced. She spoke about the shame she had carried as a teen mom, the weight of expectations, and the struggle to close the door to the past. But she also told them about her triumphs—graduating high school a year early, earning honors, and building a business in a field she had never formally studied. She described how her natural talent and relentless self-education had led her to design clothes for entertainers and gain widespread recognition.

She saw the girls’ eyes widen, their mouths open in awe. They clapped for her, not just for her success, but for what it meant—that their futures didn’t have to be defined by their current circumstances. Standing before them, Bates felt something shift inside her. Until that moment, she had never considered herself a role model, let alone an inspiration. She wasn’t rich or famous—just a businesswoman trying to make payroll and keep her clients happy. But in that room, she realized she had something valuable to give.

As their applause echoed, she made a promise: "Graduate high school, and I will make you a prom dress."

That moment was the true beginning of what would later become the Barbara Bates Foundation. At first, it was informal—she would ask friends for donations to buy fabric for the dresses, and they always came through. Then, Chicago Public Schools took notice. As a CPS graduate with an inspiring story, she was invited to speak at alternative schools, sharing her journey and offering the same promise to students: "If you graduate, I’ll make you a prom dress."

The foundation became official when a stranger sent her a check for $1,500, along with a letter that changed her perspective. The donor had read about her work with teen mothers but wanted her to expand the program’s reach. "I was full-figured," the letter read. "Would you consider making the program more diverse?"

That message opened Bates’ eyes to the broader struggles young girls face—stigmas, self-doubt, and the desire to belong. It was a turning point in her philanthropic journey.

But in 2020, when COVID-19 shut down the world, she had to put the prom dress program on hold. As new challenges landed at her doorstep, she embraced them, unsure of where they would lead. “I don’t really know what to call myself,” she admitted.

The Reluctant PhilanthropistLong before the foundation was established, Bates had already been fighting battles beyond fashion. In 2009, her son was facing a mandatory minimum sentence for a nonviolent drug offense in Champaign, Illinois. Though she believed he had made a mistake, the punishment far outweighed the crime. She threw herself into advocacy, organizing town hall meetings, gathering support at her church and boutique, and informing her community about the laws that disproportionately targeted young Black men.

Then, another battle emerged—one she hadn’t seen coming. She was diagnosed with breast cancer.

After a year of chemotherapy, radiation, and another year of maintenance treatment, she was left with a new question: "How did I not know?"

She had never prioritized mammograms, believing, like many others, that breast cancer primarily affected white women or those with a family history of the disease. It wasn’t until journalist Robin Robinson publicly shared her own experience that more Black women in her circle began paying attention. Bates realized how dangerous misinformation could be and knew she had to do something about it.

That realization led to her next initiative: fundraising for breast cancer awareness and treatment. She organized her first fashion show, featuring models who were all breast cancer survivors. The proceeds didn’t go to Northwestern, the prestigious hospital where she had received treatment, but to Mount Sinai, an inner-city hospital that served women with fewer resources. She wanted them to have access to the kind of care and healing experience she had been fortunate enough to receive.

The impact was profound. Through her fundraising efforts, she helped establish a breast cancer imaging center, providing women with access to early detection and life-saving treatment.

Looking back, Bates never set out to be a philanthropist. She simply saw problems and did what she could to fix them. Whether it was making prom dresses for teen moms, advocating for criminal justice reform, or raising money for breast cancer patients, she stepped up when it mattered.

Even now, she isn’t sure what to call herself. But the lives she’s touched—and the battles she’s fought—tell their own story.

A Lifelong CommitmentRaising $15,000 for Mount Sinai felt like raising a million. Barbara Bates had never imagined herself as a fundraiser, but when the hospital’s president, Adam Channing, approached her with an even bigger ask—half a million dollars over five years—she didn’t hesitate to say no.

She had deals on her desk, commitments to keep. A long-term fundraising effort wasn’t something she wanted to take on. But then, about a month later, an anonymous donor called with a different proposition: if she would lend her name and her efforts to a series of breast cancer walks and a few more fashion shows, they could raise the remaining funds for something bigger—something more impactful.

That was the moment her answer changed.

The focus had shifted from an education center named in her honor to a full-fledged breast cancer imaging center, one that would provide affordable screenings to those who couldn’t afford insurance. That, Bates could get behind. And so, the money raised funded Mount Sinai’s very first 3D breast imaging machine.

But as she would soon learn, once your name is attached to something, it becomes a lifelong commitment. Even after the imaging center was built, there was always another call, another request. When a new hospital president reached out for dinner, she knew what it meant. If there was a way to help, she would find it. In October 2024, she sponsored yet another fashion show, with every dollar raised going to the imaging center.

“I’m committed for life,” she admitted.

Still, Bates doesn’t see herself as a philanthropist in the traditional sense. She gives in the ways that feel natural to her. Sometimes, that means hosting a fundraiser. Other times, it’s as simple as making a prom dress.

“I still have young girls in situations too painful or embarrassing to talk about,” she said. “If I can make a prom dress, I will.”

It may seem like a small gesture, but she knows better. She remembers the way those first teen moms had looked at her—with wide eyes and hopeful smiles, seeing a future beyond their circumstances. It was their applause, their belief in her, that helped her shed her own shame.

More Than Fabric and Thread

For Bates, giving has always gone beyond money or material things. Her boutique has never been without an apprentice.

From the beginning, mentorship was woven into her work. When she opened her doors in 1986, one of her first hires was a young man just out of prison, part of the Salvation Army’s halfway house program. He needed a job to transition back into society, and she gave him one.

After that, she kept hiring men and women in similar situations, offering minimum-wage jobs that came with something more valuable—stability, experience, and a chance to rebuild. Many of them still keep in touch with her.

Then came the interns.

Over the years, countless aspiring designers have passed through her shop, learning the craft, refining their skills, and finding new ways to express themselves creatively. Watching them grow, seeing them establish themselves as designers in their own right, has been one of the most fulfilling parts of her career.

“As I get older, it’s nice to have the younger generation around,” Bates said. “We feed off each other.”

They bring fresh ideas and new energy. In return, she offers them knowledge, experience, and a place to learn. The exchange keeps her grounded, keeps her inspired. It’s also kept her relevant.

“I still do what I do, and my client base is who they are,” she said, “but I also make it happen for a younger generation. I make sure there’s something for everybody—whether they’re 20, 30, 40, 50, or beyond.”

For Bates, giving has never been a one-way street. It’s always been an exchange.

“When I was giving,” she said, “I was also receiving.”

Fashion as a FoundationBates remembers a conversation with a longtime client and friend who once told her, almost offhandedly, that fashion was frivolous. She didn’t take offense—it wasn’t meant to be negative—but the comment stuck with her.

Because for Bates, fashion had never been just about clothing. It was a calling, a source of joy, and most importantly, a way to give. Through fashion, she had found opportunities to uplift others—to mentor aspiring designers, support breast cancer patients, and advocate for young mothers. What started as a passion became a platform.

“I never set out to be a philanthropist,” she said. “I wasn’t looking for a tax write-off or recognition. I just followed my heart, and fashion opened doors I never expected.”

Fashion, she realized, had been the constant thread through it all. It was the reason people called, the tool she used to raise money, the gift she turned into something greater. Every time she hosted a fundraiser or designed a gown for a teen mom attending her high school prom, she was using her craft to make a difference.

And the impact was undeniable.

Looking around her office, Bates can see the proof—over 100 plaques and awards, each one honoring her contributions to the community. They span four decades, covering everything from her work with youth to breast cancer awareness to criminal justice reform. The causes are varied, but the foundation remains the same.

“It’s all connected,” she said. “Fashion made it possible.”

Yet, for all the recognition, Bates doesn’t see herself as wealthy. When she raises money, she does it the grassroots way—not by seeking out big corporations, but by calling on friends, neighbors, and the communities she serves.

“I tell people, ‘You don’t have to give a lot, just give a little. And I’ll go to a lot of people.’”

The Reluctant PhilanthropistIf there’s one thing she’s learned, it’s that philanthropy isn’t reserved for billionaires. She never set out to be one, and yet, she became one anyway.

“My giving came from my own adversities,” she reflected. “Maybe there’s something in your life that didn’t go right, but you overcame it. How can you turn that into something positive?”

That’s what she had done—turning her struggles as a teen mom, her battle with breast cancer, and her fight for justice into opportunities to help others. She had shared her experiences, even when it was difficult, because she believed that honesty had power.

“And that’s really it,” she said simply.

What’s NextNow, as she looks toward the future, Bates sees the next chapter unfolding through her youngest son, who has joined her in the business. He’s bringing fresh energy, leaning into the younger generation, and helping her expand into new markets.

One of their latest projects? A casual fashion line.

At the time of this interview, the first batch of 100 pieces had already sold out.