Each year I am presented with Mother’s Day, and as I age, I view Mother’s Day with a different lens.
This year I am struck with how young my parents were when they had my brother and I. My mom became a parent when she was 22, still finishing her doctorate in American history at NYU. She balanced having children and graduate school with my parents combined teachers’ salary of less than $50k.
When I was younger, I never felt that I lived without material objects but my parents were clearly not wealthy. They made the most of the city and what it had to offer. We spent weekends going to Lincoln Center, waited for tickets all day for Shakespeare in the Park and lived at the Frick and the Metropolitan Museum and spent summers living in a water tower my dad built in the woods.
When I was a teenager my Mom was only in her early 40’s. I was a typical disgruntled teenager, wanting to go to clubs at 15, hang out with my friends, smoke pot in the city and come home at 4am with my Mother waiting up to make sure I was ok. The worried look on her face when I would come home still haunts me. I think back at how I would of reacted to having a teenager in NYC in the mid 80’s, trying to protect your child but not seem overly conservative. I was clearly a handful and I well surpassed my brother in testing my boundaries with my parents.
Now I am at 45 years old and I can only appreciate what an amazing job my parents did in raising me. They weren’t perfect and I doubt any parent ever is, but they did the best they could. I personally can’t even imagine having a child at 22 years old. The responsibility of caring for another human being at that age astounds me. I think back at how hard I was on them for “not understanding me”, when they themselves were so incredibly young to venture into parenthood. I look back and think how scared they must have been.
My mother continues to teach and guide me. She doesn’t profess to know everything but, she still can’t help to want to protect me. It seems to be a primal trait humans carry from the day they have children. She has done an amazing job. Her pride in her children is evident. I’ve never once doubted her love for me and I don’t think she has ever doubted for one second my love for her.
I owe my life to her. Without her, I would not be here, and without her patience and love, I would not be who I am today.
Happy Mothers Day Mom…forgive me for such a public way to say…I love and respect you very much!
I’m a massive fan of Steven Klein. He consistently fuses a 1940’s Italian Fascist undertone with a 90’s NYC club gal…think of the Robert Palmer video “Addicted to Love”, as a backdrop. He has created most of the iconic imagery with Madonna and shown his work in endless Italian and US Vogue editions.
He just paired up with one of my favorite stylists to work with, Nicola Formichetti who I have collaborated with on numerous occasions from Lady Gaga to Mughler. This time he styled the irreverent Brooke Candy, who grew up in the affluent suburbs of L.A. She has become a force to be reckoned with in her own right. Half irreverent white girl rapper and half angry LA rich girl. Whatever the combo, she has a keen sense for pushing an image and keeps people on their toes.
I designed a complicated crystal menagerie mask—a little sinister with a little sprinkle of the Wizard of Oz—to keep Brooke looking scary with a pretty sparkle.