Basin Jamet The Crystal Tearoom Tuning into Josephine River of Beauty and Youth River of Beauty and Youth
She ain’t got shit, but she got style.

She ain’t got shit, but she got style.

posted on Tuesday October 19, 2010 | in The Basin Jamet | 11 Comments

Every sensibility I have about clothes comes from my mother.  My mother who had to walk a mile down a mountain in the mornings to carry a calabash gourde of water from the river.  My mother who had to bathe and feed her seven younger siblings, beginning at age 9.  My mother who was raised in a one room house with her parents and 8 siblings, who had the audacity to protest against the  first communion dress my grandmother made her, it just didn’t make the cut.  My mother who got married too young, who wanted to travel the world, who always liked “nice things” but had to work hard her whole life to take care of first her siblings and then her children. My mother who got beat up black and blue by my father in front of her children.  My mother who everytime she got beat up by my father would say to me, “write, write it down, I want you to tell my story” this while she cried.  She made me promise to do this at a very early age. But, though she grew up poor, she had wonderful daydreams for myself and my brother.  My every action is to make her daydreams come true… and as you can see, she did all of this with a smile always on her face.

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  1. Robby (Reply) on Tuesday 19, 2010

    This is by far my favorite post… Baby takes after mama I see-Gorgeous.

  2. Debra (Reply) on Tuesday 19, 2010

    I absolutely adore this homage to your mama. A hardworking caribbean mom blessed with style, full of love and dreams, but not as much cash. Reminds me of my mom who would always tell me of her stylish ways, “Just because you are poor does not mean you have to look it. Dress to impress everyday.”

  3. Mengly (Reply) on Tuesday 19, 2010

    This is it!
    Different island. same song

  4. MR.MEYER (Reply) on Tuesday 19, 2010

    Every sensibility I have what i love about a women comes from my mother.My Mother the woman that does not like to wear much make up & dislikes fussy clothes.
    My Mother the woman that had only one brother and 5 sisters she had to help feed and dress for school.My Mother the woman that had my sister at age 18 and married young she had a eye on my dad a black guy from the other side off the island of Curacao .She was not allowed to meet because she was a girl that grew up in Steenrijk where you don’t date black guys on motorbikes.
    My Mother the woman that had to leave the house before her pregnant belly would show so my dad build her a small house on his parents land.But that would not last long as a few years past they had to move to stand on there own with me on the way soon they would moved to holland wear everything would be better.

    My Mother the woman that wanted as much freedom as her husband had but that could not be allowed she believed him and did every thing to make sure his big plans would come true so she set her dreams aside for the sake of her 4 children.she worked 2 jobs for many years to provide all that we needed and more.My Mother the woman that wears heels to go grocery she had many shoes in boxes never worn for one day she said one day for the right occasion i will need them .
    She would tell me her dreams of wanted to travel and see places and becoming a ballet dancer but reality had it she put her faith in a man that gave her 4 kids, that guy on the bike she had her eyes on back in Curacao.
    Only now is beating her up black and blue for wanting to become more then what he made her to be ,she always give him a chance back ,his sweet words of change had her again under his spell she would say all i have is my kids all i have is my 4 children that they would grow up to do better then me. We would help her write letters to get back to school for her wanted to change her life but when my dad would fine out she backed out of going .we had to life’s when my dad would leave the house to go to work we where open and talked about every thing how we feel what we like are dreams every thing she talked allot with us we would go shopping and we hide the stuff from my dad she used my closet for that.
    My Mother the woman that bought me my first Vogue magazine at age of 14 because i said i did not want to become a lawyer or architect any more she would always bring magazines for me as i never dare to buy them my self, she would let me late at night use the sewing machine for fear my dad would find out.
    I would always explain to her things about art and fashion and discus live she would love it we sit on the bed and i would show her what she would wear and she would say no thats to much i like simple i like simple i like black she would say most of the time.
    At the age of 19 i bought her a black to piece simple black Margiela dress to go to my grand dads birthday she would explain to her sisters what Margiela was and no body got the concept but liked the dress i would stand in the corner to listen she would be proudly saying that her son dress her .
    Till today 10 years latter when ever she wears it she would let me know i worn your dress today till this day every time i come closer to my dream i think of her every time i think to give up or think i cant i know what she had to fight for .
    My Mother the woman that give me guts to live my dream because she never gave up on her kids and that guy on the bike.

  5. Oroma (Reply) on Tuesday 19, 2010

    The kind so honesty, the kind of tales from a distant land that I love.
    The style to how things are done are truly the answer to everything.

  6. […] smile.  Where ever you are just like that. […]

  7. Mustapha (Reply) on Tuesday 19, 2010

    beautiful words, which reflect eternity and universality. Close to same story here, from another part of the world. Many, sadly enough, are living that same story at this very moment… I hope many of their children preserve their sensibility to express it as well as you do

  8. Abu (Reply) on Tuesday 19, 2010

    shala ur amazing

  9. malika (Reply) on Tuesday 19, 2010

    Sadness of the past as a strong energy for the future, memory, remembering always your mother.

    Even she was not there, left us so young and came back so late !

    Songs of Billie Holliday, her soul !

  10. Chloé (Reply) on Tuesday 19, 2010

    This is beautiful.
    Even though I don’t go through half as much as what you describe it makes me think about how I am actually glad I don’t have all the money in the world to buy whatever fashion I want. When I grow up and do have that money I will have learned to be resourceful and creative form it. I hope I didn’t disgrace your post with my trivial comparison.

  11. The Photodiarist (Reply) on Tuesday 19, 2010

    I love how much you love your mother. This is a beautiful tribute.

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