Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “The giving of love is an education in itself.” Motivated by true affection, mothers, grandmothers, and other beloved mentors have cheerfully guided our readers toward beauty and grace. Whether instructing with intention or through the quiet influence of everyday living, the heartfelt impact of these trusted sources leaves a legacy of graciousness that won’t be soon forgotten.
My grandmother grew up in the Depression era and worked very hard all her life. She preferred outdoor work over housework, but I realized in adulthood that she also cultivated beauty all about her despite her humble belongings.
First, she cultivated her mind and soul. She bought all the classic novels and not only read them but encouraged her grandchildren to read them as well. She also purchased books on geography and about other cultures, and these too she willingly loaned to us children to read so we could explore other countries and their habits, climates, regions, etc.
She had a record collection, which included classical pieces and also modern artists that we children listened to as well. It was not uncommon to find hymns or opera or pop artists from our era in her stack of vinyls.
And while she watched little television, if there was a ballet performance, popular music program, or good play being aired, she put those on for us all to watch and from which to learn.
Her table was always nicely set with pretty china and a tablecloth. The meal might be humble farm foods, but the table was arrayed in the finest she could purchase. She and I often sat down with department store sales flyers and dreamed of how we’d match up china patterns, glassware, and silverware pieces on a table.
My grandmother loved flowers and created a lovely yard with something in bloom nine or ten months out of the year. And if there were blossoms outside, there was always a bouquet of flowers in the house. She was forcing bulbs and branches in winter months so that even if nothing was blooming outdoors, something was in bloom indoors.
She taught us manners. Not how to use elaborate silverware, as hers was a more simply set table, but how to pass foods and what appropriate conversation should be at mealtime. We were taught to say please and thank you and to address others respectfully and politely. We were taught to be hospitable to guests and to show kindness to everyone.
Finally, she kept her personal appearance lovely. Because she preferred the outdoor work, she often dressed in trousers and long-sleeved shirts, large sunhats, work gloves, and work boots for a part of each day. But at lunchtime, when the outdoor work was done to satisfaction, she always set her hair, bathed, powdered and perfumed herself, put on a touch of makeup, and changed into something pretty to greet my grandfather when he came in from work. Always a tomboy at heart, she was also the picture of a lovely and feminine woman.
It was her encouragement that taught me to use moisturizer from age twelve onward. To this day, I often get compliments on my skin, which is relatively unlined. I only wish I’d listened harder to advice to stop baking myself in the sun!
I find now that I often model her own behaviors in my life and that my grandchildren appreciate those gentle lessons as I did once upon a time.
TERRI CHENEY
Reynolds, Georgia
At a time when neon colors and big hair were en vogue, I was fortunate to learn my sense of grace and style from my grandmother and her sister. Throughout the eighties, I accompanied my grandmother on many regular Saturday shopping trips, where we spent the day pursuing clothing and home décor in the company of her sister, who I called Aunt Jean. As we meandered from store to store, Grandma and Aunt Jean taught me to examine the fine stitches on handbags, the luminescence of china dishes, and the thread count of various linens. These lessons were passed down with a scrutiny that was born from their decades of experience with examining the qualities of beauty. During those times, I learned that good china is translucent in the light, real crystal resonates with a sound that glass cannot duplicate, and salad leaves should be folded, not cut. The lessons were not mere instructions on belonging to a certain class or emphasizing a level of knowledge that others had not had the privilege to acquire; instead, they were underscored by the message that in order to show respect to those around you, you must be willing to extend both effort and authenticity. In essence, my grandmother and her sister taught me to embrace what was fine and beautiful rather than what was trendy and current. This was in keeping with one of my grandmother’s most emphatic messages: “Never copy anyone who is being lazy. Dress and behave in an authentic way. Be the best version of yourself first and foremost.” Although it has been many decades since those day trips, the lessons—and, more importantly, the meaning behind them—accompany me on a daily basis.
HOLLY BLAKELY
Tipp City, Ohio
My mom taught me that sometimes it’s the little things that can create the strongest memories. Mom was cut from a different cloth, growing up in the 1930s and ’40s on a Canadian farm where dinner was never hurried and life—even farm life—always seemed a bit more gracious. While not frequent, social gatherings included gloves and hats, and doilies were ubiquitous. Yes, there was coffee, but the more refined beverage of choice was a cup of hot tea. This was always served in a china cup, never a coffee mug, and was poured from the china teapot in which it had been brewed. At family gatherings, my generation had finally “grown up” when we were old enough to be served hot tea in a fine china cup—with a saucer. How amazing that tea tasted. I am convinced the dainty teacup always improved its flavor. As an adult today, many of my friends do not own fine china, and the few who drink hot tea prefer it in a travel mug. Life seems busier, and frenetic schedules often dictate a faster pace for meals or refreshment. Now and then, however, I take a breath and remember my mom’s urgings of yesteryear to sit and enjoy a bit of hot tea…in a fine china cup, with a saucer.
SUZANNE STONE
San Diego, California
I was fortunate enough to have a mother who worked for Tiffany & Co. for almost thirty years. Mom was the steady earner of the family, as my dad was an inventor, and his income was erratic. She always dressed up for work with beautiful clothes she bought on sale from the likes of Neiman Marcus, Bonwit Teller, and Saks Fifth Avenue, and she instilled in me a work ethic, along with a love of the finer things in life—treasures such as china, crystal, and, of course, jewelry!
I will always cherish those days when I met her after work at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel (Tiffany’s was inside of the hotel in those days). I would wait for her in the lobby and watch the well-dressed people go by. But none was more elegant in my mind than my mom, with her ironed clothes, designer coats, and warm smile. No matter what kind of day she had, she showed up with a calm and sweet demeanor that, to me, will always embody the epitome of beauty.
CHERYL THATT-BURBANK
Valencia, California
Mom was born in the tiny village of Chataignier, Louisiana. An artist at heart, she had great talent that teachers quickly recognized, and they allowed her to draw on the chalkboards at school. Later, she enrolled in a home study correspondence course through Art Instruction. After completion, she entered their drawing contest and won! Doors opened—her life as a fashion illustrator had begun. She boarded a train for Little Rock, Arkansas, and never looked back. There, a new job awaited, and she eventually met my father, who also loved art.
To me, she was my mother but not a typical one. I can still see her sitting at her drawing board, magically reproducing beautiful clothes, purses, shoes, and hats on paper. These would become full-page ads in the newspaper. She was a pioneer woman, working full time in the 1960s before it was normal to be gainfully employed outside the home.
She was not a milk and cookies kind of mom. Instead, she displayed a sense of style and grace that she had been born with and developed over time. Her art surrounded her; in fact, it was part of her. I watched and tried my best to copy her unique sense of style.
Moving to Houston in the seventies only furthered her career. She was in high demand by many of the department stores, with her work gracing large ads in two newspapers each week. She imparted a sense of success to me that “you can do it all” when most women were only starting to try being a wife and mother alongside having a successful career. She decorated our home artistically as well, having the knack to find beautiful things at a great price.
It’s funny how an image sticks in your memory timeline. I see her, beautiful, petite, and French with brown hair and eyes and her short, tailored haircut. She is forty years old, staring intently at the blank paper, pen or pencil in hand, transforming it to a magical picture. This image will always be with me, as eternal as time itself, and as special as she was and still is to me.
Although regrettably, I can’t draw, Mom continues to inspire me with her keen sense of style and amazing ability to produce beauty, even at the ripe age of ninety.
CATHY TOWNSEND
Houston, Texas
When my clients ask where I studied interior design, I smile and tell them I was under the tutelage of my uncle. Uncle Arthur was a man of impeccable style, as well as an extravagant host. As a young girl, I would wait with eager anticipation for the next dinner party or over-the-top gala he would host. I didn’t get to attend these events until I got older, but from a young age, my uncle Arthur would invite me to help with the preparations: setting the table, acting as his sous chef, changing out the candles, fluffing up pillows, and placing fresh towels and bars of soap in the powder room.
I loved his style, which consisted of black-and-white marble floors, lacquered deep red walls, hardwood floors, antiques, oil paintings wrapped in ornate gold leaf frames, luscious tapestry draperies and throw pillows, chandeliers, old books, etc. Through him, I learned how to set a table for a ten-course meal using every sterling silver piece of dinnerware, crystal stemware, and china place setting known to man. He taught me how to arrange flowers that would grace the spaces; how to host a brunch, garden luncheon, cocktail party, and extravagant dinner gathering with the most delicious menu; how to choose the right music for each occasion; and, of course, how to wear the smartest outfit. There wasn’t any detail to which he didn’t give his utmost attention.
When I turned eighteen, I was allowed to attend these events. I not only received lessons about good design and etiquette, but now I was learning how to pull it all together and practice the fine art of hospitality. I would study every detail of Uncle Arthur’s home and his approach to entertaining. I was like a sponge and would soak in all he would teach me, directly or indirectly. I was already an artist who loved creating beauty, and my beloved uncle left me with his legacy of creating beautiful interiors, entertaining, and hospitality that I enjoy to this day!
MOIRA MICHAELS
Charlottesville, Virginia
Growing up, I was fortunate to have several women who kindled in me a love of beauty and the desire to project that beauty outwards to others. Foremost among them was my paternal grandmother, who I called Grammy.
In my memories, nothing quite surpasses her home when it comes to elegant living and welcoming hospitality. Overall, it was not that her house was large and imposing, or that the materials she used to decorate were expensive. Instead, I always felt that it was her very self that she gifted to us in her thoughtful homemaking. She went beyond the minimum at almost every turn; ironed sheets on the beds, serving dishes on the table, and special soap in the bathroom were common in her house.
However, I think the real art was that none of these things ever felt fussy or were done with a haughty spirit. On the contrary, she did all these tasks with love, making me feel like I was worth every bit of extra work.
Even though she has passed away, she is still teaching me even now to think deeply about how best to love those around me and how to make my home as welcoming as hers was.
MEGAN ERNST
St. Augustine, Florida
To read more Reader-to-Reader letters, see “Legacies of Grace” in the May/June 2023 issue, available at victoriamag.com. If you would like to see your own words published in an issue of Victoria or on our website, submit your thoughts to our latest Calling All Readers prompt.
