Odd Parenting Techniques Using Daphne Guinness, New York and Fear. Whatever Works!

I have come to dislike winter immensely. I know that’s not a positive statement to begin the New Years blogs with.  I used to love it and detested summer. But as I get closer and closer to eventually becoming a Golden Girl (Blanche, thank you very much) I realized that baking in the sun is just where I want to be. But in my “off months”, I try to make the most of my time. So a few weeks ago while I was planning our winter break (the kids and I all had off between Christmas and New Years) I decided to throw a trip to New York City in there. This was not without an ulterior motive, however.



My teenage daughter is struggling this year in school. I’m not entirely sure, but I suspect the distractions are tall, of the opposite sex, smell questionably and have long hair and a guitar. I’m no fool, I am keenly aware that very little can be done to pull her attention back from these hooligans, so I decided my best tactic would be to show her what could be her two paths with schoolwork (both were in NYC). The first path was fun…an exhibit at the Fashion Institute of Technology. She has always wanted to be a designer; it’s where her focus has been for several years. The second path was one of those people living on virtually every corner of New York. Wicked harsh? Probably. But it was New York; you’re supposed to be overly theatrical. I was trying to prove a point.



We had a fantastic day in the city. I really took a good look at my kids and realized they are exactly what I raised them to be: roadies. I thought back to this summer when we trekked across the country in an RV all the way to Colorado, we went to the beach many times, we travelled to Philly, ate every week in New Hope. They worked in the garden with me, they hiked the Rockies, they kicked around dirt roads in Nebraska, rode the quads to the lake. And here they were, bundled up, happy and totally comfortable in one of the biggest cities in the world.  I spent the rest of the day very contented, knowing I had been doing something right by exposing them to so many different places and cultures.



We had a few places to hit in the city, and ended up walking about 130 city blocks. Lots of old lady pains by that night, I’ll tell you. But we shopped on Canal Street, hit Mario Batali’s Eatily, the museum exhibit at FIT, Times Square (the day before NYE. YIKES!) and finally ended up stopping by Rockefeller Center to see the Christmas tree and grab a bite before the train ride back. But the main destination really was the FIT museum, because I wanted to show my daughter the exhibit on Daphne Guinness.



As a longtime reader of Vanity Fair and Harpers Bazaar, plus some NY rags, I’m pretty familiar with Daphne Guinness.  I think she's funky and fun, the original to Lady Gaga's copy.  She is a study in extremes, and everyone who knows me knows that I appreciate that. She is loved and hated, feminine and masculine, a bold personality but a softspoken person.  And despite my own lack of fashion brilliance, I think DG is genius. I admire her style, and can say with certainty that if I had the money, I’d probably wear most of her outrageous wardrobe (heavy on Alexander McQueen. LOVE!).



Being an eccentric chick living in the Burbs is no big thing, if you have your own style and don’t wear the standard suburban mom uniform you’re considered unique. But living in NYC and still being eccentric and making a statement takes a considerable amount of fearlessness and taste. I thought that along with the regular fashion exhibit at FIT, this was one for my daughter to see. And given DG’s love of chainmail, armor, feathers and all things shiny, my 7 year old son was equally enthralled. That’s a win-win in my book.



We spoke at length about the collection and about the fact that even though designers rely upon their creativity, they also need knowledge of fabrics, techniques, merchandising. So the point is that they need schooling. And to get into a school, you need good grades. In order to live in the city that she loves, she needs to go to school and make enough money to do so. The days of a starving artist are far from being glamorous now.  I know that merely talking to my daughter won’t get me far, she’s very advanced in the art of blocking out moms voice. But I took her to the city, picked up some fashionable cheap finds on Canal Street, took her into the stores she loves, took her to Bryant Park which she sees on Project Runway. And I NAILED it! I got my point across. I hope. We’ll see. Maybe. Ask again later.



Sometimes being a mom takes creativity that they don’t exhibit in a museum. Can you imagine what a mess that museum would be? They’d have an entire room devoted to how to cook vegetables into normal meals without your kid detecting it. Or how to make bath time fun so that your boy doesn’t shriek and run away the second water hits his skin. Perhaps the “Hall of Hell Hath No Fury Like a Pissed Off Mommy”? This exhibit would be where they pay homage to mothers who HAVEN’T strangled their kids when they decided to draw the “Circle of Friends” in red Sharpie on their newly painted walls (that was me, by the way). Or when their kid decides to tell total strangers on the train to NY that one time, his mom cried over losing a boyfriend and he then went on to demonstrate what she looked like while crying (Oh, that’s me too)?

We spent New Year’s with friends and family, with a warm fire, good food, and snuggled up watching those crazy people standing where we had been the previous day. 



I spent my last night of 2011 knowing that my greatest works of art were sitting next to me.  Nothing at any museum could possibly compare.

Here's to you in 2012.  Make the most of it!