We all inherit certain things from our parents, whether we like it or not. (I’m still allowed to blame my mom for my tendency toward messiness as an adult, right?) But sometimes the things we get from them aren’t just encoded in our DNA—if you’re lucky, you just might also have a few precious items from Mom and Dad that live on in your apartment.

A handful of years ago, various designers spoke to Vogue about the beloved things they inherited from their mothers. Now, Vogue staffers are sharing the most emotionally resonant heirlooms they’ve been given—or, in certain cases, borrowed or straight-up stolen—from our fathers, from books to record collections to vests to taxidermy (!). Read about them all below:

A favorite jacket

My dad gave me (well, I stole it, but he let me) his amazing brown leather bomber jacket. It's perfectly worn-in and slouchy, and comes with a detachable shearling collar. I begged him for it as a teen and it wasn't until my mid-to-late 20s that he finally succumbed. It's one of my favorite jackets, for both sentimental and style reasons. —Christian Allaire, Senior Fashion & Style Writer

A full classic-rock record collection

I inherited my dad’s (dare I say) excellent music taste—particularly his love for the Rolling Stones. As a result, he passed down his entire teenage record collection to me! I started being interested in classic rock in my teens, and this brought us even closer together.

My dad is a doctor, but briefly considered foregoing his medical career to instead be a drummer. Throughout college, he played in reggae and ska bands, and collected some great records. Pictured are some of his finds mixed with mine, including a copy of the Stones’ 1971 LP Sticky Fingers, which features artwork by Andy Warhol on the cover. This particular copy has the original functioning zipper of earlier pressings, which they stopped producing in 1977. —Fred Sahai, Associate Commerce Producer, Vogue Shopping

The Smiths on vinyl

Around the time I went to college, my dad gifted me his truly astounding record collection from the ’80s. He worked at a Tower Records in West Covina, California for a few years and accumulated a number of what have become my all-time favorite releases by artists like INXS, Echo and the Bunnymen, Sade, and New Order. His absolute favorite band was The Smiths, and he spent most of his paychecks on whatever rare and collectible vinyls his store got shipped in from the UK that week. My personal favorite in his (my) Smiths collection is a gorgeous pink marbled 12" vinyl of their 1987 single “Shoplifters of the World Unite,” with a vintage photo of Elvis Presley smirking on the cover. There were less than a thousand copies pressed in Germany and I’ve been too scared to ever actually play it—it’s actually tucked away in a closet in my childhood home in Oklahoma, along with a few other rarer vinyls. One of my goals this year is to finally transport them to New York so I can get the Elvis one framed! —Keaton Bell, Entertainment Editor

Colorful multipurpose glasses

When I was growing up, my dad always wore—and still does!—outlandish glasses from a London optometrist called Cutler and Gross. They were definitely not what the other dads were wearing—more Elvis Costello than business casual. (I just clicked over to their website and was greeted by a video of Debbie Harry; that’s the vibe.) He ordered them in colors that matched my childhood building blocks: ochre, bright red, forest green. It was pre-online shopping and so we would go to the tiny London shop whenever we visited the city, and even though we lived an ocean away, they seemed to know him there. He was a regular! In the years to come, entire drawers filled with these glasses and he gradually began to clear them out. By that point, I had realized how truly awesome they were, so I started to take them from him, turning them into sunglasses that regularly got me compliments—or, more recently, extra reading glasses to leave around the house. I can only hope to have a drawerful myself someday; his style was always 20-20. —Chloe Schama, Senior Editor

A watch that went through it all

My dad wore this watch like an everyday thing. He swam in it, bicycled with it, wore it up mountains, on his horse, downhill skiing—all the things he loved to do. When he died from cancer at 64, in 2010, it was there on the top of his dresser where he stored loose change, cufflinks, and other personal items. I told my stepmother I would like to have it, and though we hadn’t started thinking about his possessions, she said yes and I put it on. I don’t treat it like an everyday thing. I can’t. It’s from the 1960s and too fragile—but when I do wear it, I think of him. —Taylor Antrim, Global Network Lead & US Deputy Editor, Vogue

Good shirts and a beloved Shetland vest

I inherited about a dozen of my dad’s monogrammed shirts, but I wore them so often in college that now the collars are threadbare and I am scared they will fall apart, so they stare at me from my closet. Instead, the inherited item I wear most often is a Shetland vest that my mom got for him and he would wear as a layer under his suits. Now I layer it in a similar way. —Chloe Malle, Head of Editorial Content, U.S. Vogue

A taxidermied red-winged hawk

My father was a taxidermist, and so when I was growing up, surrounding our ping-pong and pool tables in our game room was actual game—a non-living zoo that included vast arrays of ducks, geese, pheasants, and hawks, along with a snake, a badger, assorted trout and pike and muskies, and any number of other oddities—many of them trophies from our time spent together hunting or fishing, depending on the season. We were pretty much always outside, and often on what always seemed to me to be some epic adventure—until I discovered girls, of course, and both winged and scaled creatures for miles around no doubt rejoiced in their own particular way.

This red-winged hawk, though, predates my arrival on earth—it was the first significant piece my father worked on when he was first learning the craft—and since my father died years ago I’ve hung it in a corner of wherever I’ve lived (it’s vastly more dramatic with a sharp spotlight illuminating it from directly below) along with a few old photos of him as a reminder of both my father, and of the time the two of us shared together so long ago, out in the real, wild world. —Corey Seymour, Senior Editor

A copy of My Education by Susan Choi

My dad’s bookshelf is, quite simply, upstate New York’s hottest club; it wraps around the entirety of his den and contains everything from science books to travel tomes to stacks of fiction, and it’s the final category that I chose from when I was living at his house during the early days of the COVID pandemic. I read a lot of my dad’s books during that strange season, but the one I fell the hardest for—and that I had no choice but to steal and absorb into my own book collection—was Susan Choi’s My Education, a truly wild read about a grad student who falls for her professor’s wife. (Oh, you think your dad is an ally? Cool, but did he introduce you to your all-time favorite piece of bisexual fiction?) —Emma Specter, Culture Writer