THE EARLY YEARS

I grew up in a heavily Italian, working-class suburb called Elmwood Park, Illinois just outside of Chicago. It was a small town, only a few square miles wide, where everyone knew each other. People used to ask, “What side of the tracks are you from?” Trains were a constant presence in my childhood, and getting stuck by them on the way to school or practice became a part of life. I developed a strange respect for them strong, powerful, unmoving. Looking back, maybe that’s how I wanted to be, too.

Summers were everything to me. I lived for those precious hundred days of heat and freedom. My friends and I would slather on baby oil mixed with iodine (a terrible idea, I know now!) and lay out on a tinfoil mat, trying to get the perfect tan My grandmother had a pool, and I spent as much time there as I possibly could. Occasionally, we’d make it to the beach in Chicago, but I never liked it crowded, cold, just not my scene. Even back then, I knew I belonged in a real sunny state with real beaches. That pull to somewhere warmer never left me

As for role models, they weren’t typical I was captivated by supermodels like Kate Moss there was something about her look, that waif-like beauty, that totally drew me in. Jamie King was another one I admired, and of course Cindy Crawford being from a small town in Illinois herself, she made the impossible feel achievable I looked up to people who came from nowhere and made a name for themselves somewhere.

MY DAD ALWAYS CALLED ME ‘THE THINKER”

We didn’t have cable growing up, so I wasn’t immersed in pop culture like a lot of my peers. No MTV, no concert-going, no music festivals. Honestly, I think that was a blessing. It gave me space to develop my own tastes and instincts without being overly influenced. I spent a lot of time painting over and over again, on the same canvas or on my bedroom walls I was always creating, always imagining I even remember customizing items I found, turning them into one-of-akind pieces. Creativity was my outlet. It still is.

Funny enough, I always liked Donald Trump. I knew who he was from a young age, even read his book as a kid I admired his confidence and took an interest in his family, especially his kids. When my husband and I started having children, I remember telling him, “Let’s pay attention to what Trump did his kids turned out great.” That might sound unexpected, but I was drawn to people who built dynasties families, brands, legacies.

My mom’s liberal friend babysat me and choppedallmyhairoffin3 grade rd