My mother’s Daughter

Mummy on the left, her friend Mrs Codougan and her husband Ormy: I still have that purse

When I was in college and old enough to care and notice I saw that people made a big deal of my mother when she was around. It didn’t matter whether the knew her or not. People would flutter around her like months to the flame, to talk to her, did she need anything? I didn’t understand why anyone would fuss over her. She was just my mother.

Graduating from Beauty School in the 50’s ordinary I thought.

I didn’t see what they saw, she was impeccable When she was out and about her outfits were perfect, her hair was perfect, the shoes co-ordinated with the purse. There was something about the way she carried herself that can be seen in her pictures. She was full on confidence, that came from being beautiful and knowing it. She was regal. Its true in Barbados we had classes in school where we learned how curtsy and eat with royalty, just in case. That comes from being a former British Colony and the Royal family coming to visit us every once and a while. She identified heavily with Queen Elisabeth II, they were born in the same year and no one ever told my mother she wasn’t a Queen.

For such an admired beauty it didn’t take her very long to get ready, maybe half hour. She didn’t

on the stoop

wear much make up, her outfits were all ready, hung neatly in the closet with the co-ordinated bag and shoes within easy reach.

I realized that she was giving people something to look at . Something they didn’t see too often, a hint of perfection. Capitalizing on her beauty she picked her clothes carefully, so that she became a flower that people loved to look at.

I was not a princess, although for the first few years of my life my older sister

Me and the bull

would dress me up like a doll and take pictures of me. As I grew up I was usually lopsided, my bushy hair out of control. It wasn’t until this year when as an Artist attending Art openings that I started to dress to make an impression. With her accessories still on hand its easy. At one Art even where I was volunteering because of how I was dressed people assumed I owned the gallery. That’s what I am talking about. I give them something to look at like she did, I finally learned how to do it.