Loving My Mother by Stepping Into Her Closet: 'Addiction Was Part of Her, but She Was Much More Than That' (Exclusive)

Mar. 15, 2025

Jessica Keaveny; Knopf

On the day of my mom’s celebration of life — we didn’t have a funeral, she would have hated that — I stood in front of her bathroom mirror and stared at myself wearing her dress. My mom had a closet full of wild clothes from the ‘80s and ‘90s: a hot pink bolero with angular shoulders like Judy Jetson, a red miniskirt painted with black lips, a black sequined dress with an explosion of yellow ruffles around the neckline like a fabulous bee.

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The dress I’d chosen was emerald green velvet with a silk flower on the shoulder, and it fit me perfectly. Still, I almost took it off as tears streamed down my face. Wearing her dress, I felt like a fraud for pretending my grief was uncomplicated.

Taylor’s mom, in a green velvet dress she designed.Courtesy of Taylor Hahn

Courtesy of Taylor Hahn

My mom had an alcohol addiction, and I was angry with her because of it. I wanted her to stop drinking and start being honest, and also to start eating and sleeping and exercising and maybe drink the occasional green juice, as if it were that easy or simple. As her health worsened, I only grew more frustrated. Alcohol had become her defining characteristic. I couldn’t see past it. When she died, I thought I would never forgive her. I felt like she’d chosen alcohol over me.

Now I was standing in front of the mirror, confronted with a truth that, because of my angry tunnel-vision, I’d missed: that my mom was brave, and vivacious, and not afraid to stand out. She’d even designed most of these clothes herself, a talent I’d never appreciated. I’d been so focused on the ways she’d let me down that I’d offered her no compassion. Isn’t that what we do to our mothers? Tally up the ways they’ve disappointed us? Our mothers are our easiest targets.

The author in another of her mom’s whimsical fashion creations.Courtesy of Taylor Hahn

As a kid, I noticed the ways my mom was different from other moms. She was divorced; most of my friends’ parents were still married. She wore red lipstick and heavy strings of fake pearls to drop me off at school; other moms seemed to have a closet full of capri pants. She worked long hours running a non-profit; other moms stuck around at birthday parties to chat in the kitchen. She filled our house with baroque antiques; my friends’ homes were cluttered and kid-friendly.

The author’s mom dressed in some of her signature finery.Courtesy of Taylor Hahn

I desperately wanted to be the same as everybody else, and in clinging to that wish, I ignored the ways in which my mom had stayed true to herself, even in motherhood. Is it possible for daughters to ever truly know their mothers if we only view them through the lens of our own lives?

Taylor Hahn in her mom’s ruffled pink bolero.Courtesy of Taylor Hahn

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source: people.com