A grainy black and white photo of my mother sits on the mantel in my living room. I was only five when it was taken in 1957, but I still vividly recall the day it was shot. Our family stood by as my mom emerged from her bedroom to show off a tight, pale-pink Lurex dress she’d bought in Buffalo for $12.95. Slipping on a pair of clear plastic high-heeled mules, she suddenly looked more glamorous than we’d ever seen her. She curled up on the big turquoise armchair in our front room and, against the backdrop of a set of garish starburst-patterned drapes, began posing as our upstairs tenant, Mr. Parker (an amateur photographer who coaxed her to project a “come hither” look), snapped away.
Looking back, there’s no question that my mom’s wardrobe wizardry gave me a passion for the art of dressing. And since my mother had such a profound influence on me, I’ve always been curious to know how fashion’s great creative minds have been influenced by their own moms.
For years, Isaac Mizrahi bestowed me with a special honour: He’d always seat me next to his mother at his shows, likely so I’d have the privilege of watching her kvell – the Yiddish word for “cheer” or “gloat” – up close. Sarah Mizrahi struck me as a very stylish mom, incredibly detail-oriented, always perfectly groomed and dressed in the chicest outfits, designed by her son. And with Isaac’s penchant for sixties and seventies elegance, I surmised that his mother must have been a great influence on him. “When I was young, I was glamorous,” she confirmed as we waited for the show one season. “But I don’t know if I really taught him about glamour. He was just a baby. I never thought he would pay attention.”
Stella McCartney, whose first big job in fashion was taking the creative reigns at Chloé in 1997, has always credited her late mom, Linda, for turning her on to the power of style. The first time I met Stella, she talked to me about how she’d play dress-up in her mom’s closet, which was ironically well stocked with Chloé back in the 1970s. Little did anyone realize that Linda’s little girl would one day work for that label and become one of the world’s most directional designers. Stella was also greatly influenced by her mom’s ethics. “Both my mum and dad are known to be vegetarians, world rights activists and environmentalists,” said Stella. “And that definitely came into my work.”
Calvin Klein also grew up with a mother who was excited by fashion. I had read that, while other kids played stickball, Klein wanted to tag along with his mother while she shopped at New York’s discount clothing stores. When I first spotted Mrs. Klein, quietly sitting in a front-row seat in a Bryant Park tent during Fashion Week in the mid-1990s, I was charmed that she looked so approachable. She was dressed simply, in a plain nylon raincoat, with little makeup, and certainly not overly coiffed. I’d seen earlier that the seat she was in had the name “Flo Klein” on it. “Are you Calvin’s mother, by any chance?” I asked. “Why, yes,” she responded, surprised that I was interested. I thought she’d be reluctant to be interviewed, but she graciously agreed to give me a moment. She told me she was an avid clotheshorse in her day and confirmed that Calvin had a strong interest in fashion from a young age. “He was great with colours, too. He always had a sense of what looked right.”
One thing that all mothers of designers seem to have in common is pride. In the late nineties, I ran into the mother of Yves Saint Laurent backstage at Paris’s Intercontinental Hotel. A delicate woman, whom Saint Laurent designed dresses for when he was just a teen, Lucienne Andrée Mathieu Saint Laurent was flawlessly made up, impeccably dressed and overjoyed at yet another triumph for her genius son. “Superb!” she enthused in French. ”The ideas! One dress was absolutely sublime! I have to say, I was applauding the whole time. I’m so proud of my son. It has been 40 years, and he’s always the first!”
But of all the moms I’ve met backstage, none has been more “there” for her kid than Joan Kors, Michael Kors’s mom. A former model, Joan has always spent a lot of time talking with her son about clothes. And he ate up every word. “He had a store in our house when he was 10, making leather vests and T-shirts, and taking orders for custom shirts,” she remembered. “By the time he was 14, he said, ‘I’m going to be a designer, I made up my mind. And I’m going to have my own label by the time I’m 21.’ And he did.” What’s the most important lesson she taught Michael? “I think it’s to do what you love,” she said.
These days, stepping back and ruminating over how I may have influenced my own two daughters in the fashion department, I can only hope that the way they’re blazing their own trails is a testament to the way I loved them and inspired them to see the world in new and wondrous ways. Though their mode of dress has always been unique to them, both girls surprise me with their unconventional choices and a fearlessness in the way they mix things up. Most of all, my daughters remind me that torches are passed in myriad ways between generations. And it’s the manner in which we carry these flames that ultimately defines our personal style.
This story originally appeared in the May 2015 issue of Globe Style Advisor. To download the magazine’s free iPad app, visit tgam.ca/styleadvisor.