MUM'S THE WORD

I’m writing this a few days after my mum passed away at the age of 90. She had been in a residential home for over 2 years, lying in bed pretty much paralysed for the last 6 months with no real life to speak of. Despite that, she continued to show the same stubborn, indomitable spirit that defined her when she was well. Only eating and drinking when it suited, to make sure she left this world on her own terms at a time of her choosing.

My mum and I were very different people. She was a complicated introvert who, perhaps, wanted to seek out the limelight but didn’t know how. I, on the other hand, have never had a problem doing so. She hated anyone getting close to her in a physical sense, whereas I am the consummate hugger. We had different colouring. She had brown eyes, mine are blue. She had curly hair, mine is straight despite her numerous attempts to have me wear the dreaded foam rollers when I was small. Because we were so polar in character, it was obvious that it would also play out in our wardrobe choices.

Mum didn’t really see clothes as that important in terms of investment. “Quantity rather than quality” was her mantra. Her home was absolutely crammed with clothing going back years and years. Jostling for space sat boxes of costume jewellery, shoes that no longer fitted her increasingly swollen feet, scarves, gloves - you name it, we found it. A ‘wardrobe on repeat’ is how I viewed it. If she liked a particular garment, it would be purchased in every colour. Her choices were mainly based on being practical and traditional, and included many of her hand knits. She always had a pair of knitting needles in her hand until arthritis prevented it. So, no fashion trends, no luxury, substance over style.

I am more of a minimalist. I hate clutter and keep empty hangers in my wardrobes so I can see exactly what I am working with. While I am far from a perfectionist, my wardrobe is both colour and garment co-ordinated, and always has been, mainly to make life easy. While Mum had a colourful and chaotic wardrobe, mine is based on a neutral palette of cool, dark and light colours, no patterns or bling.

I wear make up every day - even to the gym. It would have to be a special occasion before Mum put on lipstick. When she did, she looked lovely (see photo) but, in her view, it didn’t do to be too vain - though she did love her earrings.

Of course, I am referring specifically here about the ‘current’ me. Back in the day, like many other teenagers, I hadn’t worked out which tribe I belonged to. At that time (1974) the gang I hung around with was a hybrid of ‘heavy metal meets boho hippy’. To ensure I fitted in, alongside the ubiquitous cheesecloth shirts and embroidered jeans, I purchased a huge afghan coat. These oversized suede coats, with massive shaggy fur trim, stunk to high heaven if they got wet. Mum was so affronted by that coat that she wouldn’t walk down the street with me if I put it on.

As the years went by each of the fashions I adopted would meet with derision. Shoulder pads, stiletto shoes, short skirts, maxi skirts, midi dresses, blonde highlights, statement jewellery, ripped jeans (which she detested with a passion) - pretty much anything I wore was subject to the third degree. I think she would have actually disowned me if I’d ever arrived sporting a tattoo. Even when others paid me compliments in her presence, I knew I would never receive them from her. Mum and I just didn’t value the same things and I had to learn to respect that.

This knowledge and understanding helped me immensely when I became an image professional. The realisation that we are not all the same, externally or internally, spurred me on to become a coach. Asking powerful questions, rather than dictating what I thought my client should wear, helped me to build a thriving business and a very loyal client base.

Here’s the thing: while she never, ever told me to my face, I know Mum was proud of me and what I have achieved with my life but I had to find out via those she conversed with. Like many British people brought up in the war with a stiff upper lip attitude to life, she never liked the thought of anyone rising too high above their station. Praise and compliments lead to ‘big-headedness’ which just wouldn’t do. Yes, she was stubborn, tenacious and often unyielding but, without her drive, I have to acknowledge that I probably wouldn’t be where I am now.

Mum - Rest in Peace.