A little over a year ago I took my oldest daughter, Leo on a Rodeo Drive stroll with some associates of mine. We walked onto the landing of the Prada mega-shop and took a look at the mannequin in the underground display case. While we proceeded to enter the shop, she stopped to look at the small cosmetic cases with flowers on them. They had them on display like free candy. She picked up a purple one and said, "Mommy, can I have this one?" - they were the words most parents loathe to hear when they cannot get something for their child. But for real, it was a PRADA bag for crying out loud! She could have very well asked for a make-up case at Target and it would have been fine. Nonetheless, she is my daughter and for some reason she knew that this particular bag was the bag she had to have. I motioned her inside the store somehow and thought she had forgotten all about it. However once we were headed out she remembered - "But Mommy, what about the bag?" - darn it. I told her that I just could not get her the bag "today." My colleagues - vintage fashionistas - thought it was a great moment in time for them. I, on the other had, wished that I could unload my black AMEX and head straight to the cashier to purchase a multi-hundred dollar Prada bag for my 4 year old.
What took place over the course of an hour was amazing. My disappointed daughter cried her heart out at the entrance of Rodeo Drive during the middle of the afternoon. I mean nothing could stop her tears - not even candy from the sales girl at Cesare Paciotti. Folks were coming out of their shops to see the little girl in her glam shades crying along the strip. Once I told them what she was crying for - I think they wanted to break out the AMEX, too. We even saw that model, Toccara Jones at Gucci - nothing. Finally - while waiting on line for about forever at Sprinkles...she fell asleep in my arms. She didn't even see the sprinkles!
That whole scene was crazy to me because she did not throw a tantrum. She did not sulk - she just stopped dead in her tracks and cried like she lost her kitten. It was a whole-hearted cry. She is now 5 years old and a princess in training. I wondered if she would become a Broke Diva herself one day. I am sure of it. So tomorrow I am introducing her to my 1960's vintage sewing machine. I have not sewn a stitch in years - but I bought it for her. To make dresses and whatever she wants that I can do on this machine. I also bought it to ease my sewing hand and to get back to the heart of who I am. I am a designer and frankly I am my best when working with my own hands. My OWN hands. I think that this machine and my designs will show my daughter - all of my children - that you can create what you want. I am not saying that I can create that Prada bag - but I am going to show her an outlet of creativity that money cannot buy.
I have a laundry list of things I want to make. I hope that by me getting back into the groove of designing and sewing will open up what has been put to the back for some years now. Back when I was living it up as a naive artist - I felt greatly liberated. Now that I have the education of the industry - I am so ready to get it all started again. So bit by bit, dress by dress, and getting the kids shoe line off next year, I will regain what years of working for other folks has put to the side. My goal is to walk down any street/drive/or road with my daughter and when she says "Mommy, can I have this one?" - I can say, "Yes, yes you can." And pulling out a loaded AMEX won't be too bad either. But for now I toll away and sew and write and draw my heart out until I create the life I desire. So far it is coming together daily.
It is another beginning - as all journeys are. I am looking out into the starry sky and can see shadows of our horses in the night. Another realization for the Broke Diva. Something that I always dreamed about as a little girl is right beyond my window. I am not wealthy in money - but mega rich and wealthy in the since of making the life I want.
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