People often assume I have money. I don’t. Actually I qualify for government assistance as I now live below the poverty line. I’m not ashamed of that, nor proud. It just is.
I grew up with some affluence, and was fortunate enough to attend a private high school, Kingswood School at Cranbrook, in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan. My name, along with the other sixty-two girls in my graduating class, is carved into a wooden panel in the assembly hall. If you’ve heard me talk about that experience, you have heard me say that it was “the real Hogwart’s.” It was a magical time for me. For starters, I got to leave home. Not only could I fill my senior schedule with art classes, but I was allowed to audit some of the graduate courses at The Cranbrook Academy of Art across campus…the gorgeous, mystical campus.
We were required to wear dresses or skirts back then, and so I set about finding a way to rebel. Let me just admit here that I would often thoughtlessly rebel just for the sake of rebelling, cushioned by affluence and privilege. There was much to rebel against in those days, but I certainly didn’t understand the scope of my naivete’. Saturdays I worked at the Saks Fifth Avenue store next to the Fisher Building in downtown Detroit, my other magical haunt. I wanted a discount and money to buy my own clothes without scrutiny. And I also shopped at the Goodwill and my favorite store, St. Vincent de Paul Charity shop. I’d buy vintage corduroy poodle skirts (it was the early 1970’s) and take out the front seam to show as much thigh as I could get away with, pair them with the craziest patterned stockings and leggings I could find, and my $350. dollar Italian leather platform shoes I paid for with my Saks earnings.
Give yourself the gift of watching these wildly indomitable women through the entire film; you’ll be so glad you did. And then take a tour of the magnificent art and architecture of Kingwood School. “Heaven” was my favorite escape. Even then I would sneak out through a window to daydream on the roof in solitude. Believe me, I never took a moment of it for granted. I still don’t.
A Painterly Home 