Never let me down, not once, always delivered no matter how
ludicrous my demands nor how impossible the time-scale.
I’d go to bed, leaving her with some unsolvable problem to
fix or create a fantasy I ‘had to wear’ the next day that
she knew would break my heart if it wasn’t delivered on time.
Most parents would’ve refused, or laughed, but she just couldn’t
let me down, it wasn’t in her to let anyone down. The thing is,
I’d realised at an early age that ‘nothing’ was impossible for her.
This is what is was like growing up with superwoman for a mom.
A master craftswoman who had the gift to transform tired
cloth into works of art. Garments brought to her for repair
by people who often had only a few pounds spare for food
were processed through hour’s of sleepless toil. Unable to
rest until they had been transformed by a meticulous love &
skill that would’ve made Saville Row tailors tip their hats.
Astonished owners would barely recognise their precious
old clothes, as they had become better than new, fit for a catwalk,
a banquette, a boardroom. Her customers worked factory floors or
wined-&-dined with billionaires. Some were born local, others
migrated to our town in search of work, bringing with them the
exotic aromas of home. Whatever the size of the purse or the
colour of their skin she treated everyone the same.
As a tot all of this was just normal, but as an image conscious
teenager, to have a Grande Wizard in the family who could make
you look sharp, cool & individual when there wasn’t enough money
to do any of those things was like playing in the Conference league
but having Pelé in your team.