The daughter of two teachers, I grew up in a middle class family. My parents spent the first winter they were married in a tiny cottage at Higgins Beach. After I was born, we spent a few years in Cape Elizabeth, living in a duplex near the iconic Cookie Jar. After moving to Arlington, MA for a year while my dad attended Harvard, my parents bought their first home on Chase Street on Meeting House Hill in South Portland and we lived there until I was ten.

One spring day in 1967, my father came home and announced that he had just bought a cottage by the sea in Danforth Cove on the South Portland / Cape Elizabeth line. A cottage it was. Small and run-down, but adequate and near the water. We were able to run to the end of the street to collect rocks on a small pebbled beach and watch ferry boats, lobster boats and sailboats passing through Portland Harbor. One morning, soon after we had moved in, I heard my six year old brother Michael, screaming at the top of his lungs, “It’s a TANKA ! It’s a TANKA!” as he gazed out the window, mesmerized by the empty, high- riding oil tanker, floating past the picture window.

I’ve always had an “eye” 

My sister and I always shared a bedroom. I would get bored every few months and try to rearrange the furniture, which really meant dragging our twin beds to different corners of the small room. I would line up my Nancy Drew books in order and put trinkets in their special spaces around the room. At Christmas time, I looked forward to the plastic candles with white lights placed in each of the bedroom windows. The lights and the snow falling outside were magical.

I enjoyed looking through wallpaper books with my mother and appreciated being consulted on picking the perfect pattern for my room, from the many choices in those heavy books. When my mother painted our large bathroom lavender, I was horrified! I may have been only nine, but I knew she had made a mistake! (Purple was my sister’s favorite color but I couldn’t stand it.) In our second home, my mother painted the living room a shade of what might be described as pistachio green. That was a disaster, too. We later referred to the color as mom’s “menopausal green,” but we had to live with it for a decade or more. I was often told my sister, Kate, had all the artistic talent in the family and she certainly had a lot. But, in retrospect, I myself had somewhat of an “eye”.

The love of fashion at an early age

In the late fifties, there was a store on Mitchell Road in Cape Elizabeth called The Country Style. It was in a beautiful barn at the back of an old farmhouse, and the sisters who ran it sold stylish clothes and accessories. Even at age four, I remember examining all the purses and sweaters. I picked out a pleated plaid woolen skirt with suspenders and a matching hat, which I paired with a white button-down short sleeve shirt. Buster Brown Mary Jane shoes from the Edwin Case shoe shop in Portland and my outfit was complete!

My grandmother had worked in a mill in Lewiston and was a skilled seamstress. She would make my sister and me smocked dresses and jumpers. My wide-wale corduroy jumper, cream colored, was one of my favorites. I wore it, with several hem adjustments, until my legs grew far too long. Each Christmas Eve, we were allowed to open one gift: always the flannel nightgowns and pajamas my grandmother had made. The flannel was thick, soft, cozy; it was one of my favorite  parts of Christmas.

My grandmother also outfitted my Barbie dolls in exquisite outfits, made from scraps of fabric left over from our clothing. The dolls had woolen coats, handmade sweaters, satin evening gowns adorned with sequins and velveteen tops, fur stoles and pajamas that matched ours. Mattel never had anything on my grandmother.

As a teenager, I was always aware of the latest fashion trends; hot pants, leotard tops, bellbottoms.  I thought is was cool to wear overalls and my LL. Bean sweater and boots were a staple. In the ’80’s most of which I spent pregnant, I made a fuss about maternity clothes and went to work in large Laura Ashley jumpers, with heels that didn’t befit a mother-to-be. I have a long-time friend, who, to this day, always teases me about my jumpers with turtle necks… And the hair!  The last thing one needs is a permanent when you have a full head of hair.  

Forever creative

During my childhood, I would find quiet moments to write stories and poetry or sketch, pretending I was a fashion designer. I kept journals which I still have. When I had a family of my own, I found little time to write but when I could, I did. Often that meant scribbling down humorous stories about my life with three young children. In my storage unit, I have plastic totes filled with scribbles and anecdotes from my child rearing years. When I have time, I pull them out and laugh at some of the things I wrote.

Owning my first home, paint and paper, furniture, fixtures… now I was having fun! My budget said otherwise, but I wanted to change it all every few months. It was creating that brought me joy. Over the years, different homes became my palettes and, as eclectic as I made them, people seemed to notice.  

When I became a realtor in 2002, the overlap between my real estate career and love of design became clear. While working on my own homes I started helping my clients make their homes look amazing before they put them on the market. Later, I shared with them ideas as they moved into new places. I enjoyed helping them make their rooms stylish and unique. Soon, I became my friends’ go-to style guru, for everything from fashion to art to which sofa works best and “how do I dress these windows?” I connected them to painters, contractors, window washers, house cleaners, stoneworkers, landscapers and more. Then, it turned into more than just the home-related issues. People wanted to know where to buy lobsters, where to get a haircut, where to shop, where to eat, where to vacation. In a very natural and organic way, I became the connector of everyone for anything anytime. Close friends and clients would say, “Why don’t you actually DO this? You are such a resource!”