Whether or not you count yourself one of Daryl Kerrigan's obsessed fans, there's no denying that the scion of East Village chic possesses that elusive thing, a readily identifiable look. You can conjure it up instantly—a streetwise, punk-spirited elegance so uncomplicated it can come off as accidental. Except it's not. Kerrigan has always been relentlessly precise in her work, whether refining the cut of the boot-leg pants that made her name in the nineties, or getting the exactly washed-out-enough finish right on a piece of silk destined for one of her signature bias-cut dresses. Since the turn of the millennium, when rapid expansion of the Daryl K and K-189 lines almost simultaneously made Kerrigan into a fashion star and imploded her business, everything about Kerrigan's brand has changed, and nothing has. You won't find any boot-leg pants at the Bond Street headquarters she reopened a few years ago; neither will you find a designer hatching plans for mass-market domination. But the look remains. As the first season of Kerrigan's new diffusion line, Kerrigan, hits shelves, the designer talked to Style.com about doing more with less and her antidotes to hopelessness.

Obviously, this isn't the first time you've designed a diffusion range. Was there something you missed about K-189 that inspired you to launch Kerrigan now?

I've always been a girl who likes to mix casual pieces into my wardrobe, and when I was doing K-189, I had an outlet for things like jeans, hoodies, worn-out tees. But Daryl K, the primary line, those collections are really about high-end fabrics, working with really beautiful silks and wools and materials with special finishes, and I've found that it's hard to incorporate those sportier pieces into Daryl K without sacrificing some of that line's integrity.

But Kerrigan comprises more than just tees and hoodies…

Well, the other reason I wanted to launch Kerrigan is that I get a fair amount of price resistance to my clothes. I think maybe that's partly because I make daywear, and I like clothes to have a certain simplicity; on the rack, that stuff doesn't read like it ought to be expensive. Like I said, it's about the fabric, the cut. But I also believe that part of the resistance has to do with my customer, and I mean that in the best way—my girl has never been, you know, the billionaire's daughter. She's got some grit to her, the arty girl who's doing her own thing, working her way up. I wanted to make pieces that girl could afford.

The debut collection is quite small, only 25 pieces or so. Are you planning to expand?

We might expand the line a bit, but to be honest, I like that it's small. I find I'm asking myself a lot of questions about the environment lately, on a daily basis, in fact, and it seems like the easiest way to be more green is just, you know, to make less. Buy less; throw away less. There's so much talk out there about local, organic, what have you; it's all very confusing. I mean, I read this article in The New Yorker the other day about how it's basically impossible to guess any item's carbon footprint, even if you're using solid logic. Apples from New Zealand are greener for me to buy than apples from upstate New York; how is that possible? But it's true. Anyway, it really seems like the answer is just to limit yourself to what's essential.

Are you hoping to make the line more sustainable?

Getting the line on its feet, I feel like I struggle enough with maintaining quality control. The lower the price point, the harder it is to make things that last. And making clothes that last, that seems like another easy way of being green. You ought to be able to wear things for a while. I'd be happy to learn more about it, sustainable production and all that, but then, all this global-warming stuff, at the end of the day it can just make me feel hopeless. That's when I switch the channel to celebrity news.

And that actually makes you feel more hopeful, not less?

Good point. Mainly it's a distraction—they are entertaining, those crazy celebrities. I've never been a big tabloid person, but every so often I just can't help myself. But in general, I do try to stay on the hopeful side of things—for my son, who's nine and a worrier, if for no other reason. Wearing pink right now, that cheers me up. I feel like people always associate me and my line with dark colors, gray and black and all that, but right now, I just want to wear pink all the time.