My mother's name was Marie, which is my middle name. She was an intense Virginia Woolf fan and staunch women's rights activist.
One sunny Saturday afternoon I was playing in the garden, dressed in a beautiful blue dress my grandmother had given me. My mother came running outside, she was wearing a long brown skirt and tunic, not glamorous. She told me we had to go, and I thought here we go again.
See the one thing you have to understand about my mother is that she never gave up on trying to form me into a little activist in burlap. She would always drag me along on all her protests, but not before I changed into the clothes she had a approved for me to wear...a khaki jumper, I thought I would die!
My mom always told me that to be strong and to be taken seriously you must dress and act seriously and she thought I acted too much like a child, despite the fact that I was only 6 years old.
So my grandmother was the one who encouraged my glamour, she was always draped in diamonds and jewels, which always made my mother angry. She and Grandmother Sandra never got along. My grandmother always dressed her in beautiful dresses, which my mother hated.
In the Rockefeller family the cycle of daughter rebellion never stops.
One sunny Saturday afternoon I was playing in the garden, dressed in a beautiful blue dress my grandmother had given me. My mother came running outside, she was wearing a long brown skirt and tunic, not glamorous. She told me we had to go, and I thought here we go again.
See the one thing you have to understand about my mother is that she never gave up on trying to form me into a little activist in burlap. She would always drag me along on all her protests, but not before I changed into the clothes she had a approved for me to wear...a khaki jumper, I thought I would die!
My mom always told me that to be strong and to be taken seriously you must dress and act seriously and she thought I acted too much like a child, despite the fact that I was only 6 years old.
So my grandmother was the one who encouraged my glamour, she was always draped in diamonds and jewels, which always made my mother angry. She and Grandmother Sandra never got along. My grandmother always dressed her in beautiful dresses, which my mother hated.
In the Rockefeller family the cycle of daughter rebellion never stops.
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