The Prologue Part I: Rose-Moreno, It All Started In ‘76…

So, I thought that it would be nice to give a little background as to how I have ended up here, a Brit-Mexican following her passion and instinct ‘back’ to her motherland to set up an ethical-fashion business. This is the romantic part of the story, the easiest part to recount- no doubt there will be far more complex episodes to tell as the real work progresses. But, I will deal with that when it comes to it, let’s stick with the fun anecdote for now.

50s England: My dad, a Londoner and only-child, was born into a working-class Polish-Jewish family; his mother was a cleaner of the dressing-rooms of London’s theatreland (she idolised the Westend stars, and collected their autographs in a special book), and his father ran an east-end sweetshop (now a very gentrified and popular cafe). Zeda (Jewish for grandad) smoked and ate heavily- but was killer at a game of Bridge, so good that he played with 60s Hollywood actor Omar Sharif on occasions (my dad loves to boast).

Dad through the years, from cheeky little Jewish kid to self-made hippy journalist.

Very important to note, is that Boobah (Jewish for grandma) was an Arsenal supporter, and Zeda was a supporter of bitter rivals Tottenham- my dad turned out to be a true Gooner (Arsenal supporter), but has a soft-spot for Tottenham- a very rare combination, and he genuinely gets upset when fans of both teams exchange insults.

Boobah and Zeda weren’t exactly the most intellectual or aspirational of parents, not setting the greatest of precedents for a go-getting worldly life. Dad totally flopped at school, leaving at 16, but still with enough drive and intelligence (once applied) to get himself various clerical jobs. Eventually working at a travel agency, was what opened my dad’s eyes- the exotic images in the brochures and posters that surrounded him, and arranging travel for the wealthy and adventurous, set his dreams alive, igniting a desire for more than his conventional city-boy life, a life of new lands and discovery. At 18, precocious for the 60s, he waved goodbye to a devastated Boobah and Zeda, and set-off to Sydney, Australia. What was supposed to be a couple of months, became 2.5 very happy years- firstly jumping giddily into Sydney harbour, partying, dating foreign chicks, waitering (very badly, many spillages), and then working seriously for more travel companies.

Reluctantly leaving Sydney in ‘68, he returned to London with a new self-confidence and worldliness, riding his way through the travel industry in his early 20s, working for SAS, P&O and Qantas. All-the-while becoming increasingly immersed in books, fact and fiction, history, anthropology, politics, all fueling his imagination and expanding his horizons. Working for the airlines enabled dad discounted travel, of which he took much advantage. Fancying himself as a British version of Hunter-S-Thompson, he started writing travel logs on his escapes, building up a decent catalogue of stories and interviews, which led him to become a contributing writer for an aviation magazine.

Fast-forward several years to the mid-70s, dad took himself on intrepid adventures throughout the Americas (there are endless stories, including criminals, hitchhiking, a night in a Bolivian prison cell... he would LOVE to share them with you all). Back then, having to carry his type-writer on his back, literally, he would write articles as he went, take his own pictures, and shoot them off (by actual postal service obviously) to endless publications, in the hope that they would have them. ‘She’ magazine took him up on several- one of the prized ones, his story of the Voodoo Priestess in a Brazilian favela (slum), with whom he lived for a short-time and still refers to as his second mother.

Anyway, real point being, this journey brought my dad to Mexico City, where he landed himself a job (still unqualified) at the American ex-pat newspaper “The News”, where he wrote for several years and immersed himself in local culture and the intellectual crowd. That is dad for now.

50s Mexico: My mum, in total contrast to my dad, was born in Mexico City into an influential upper-class Catholic family. Her parents were a proper tale of rags-to-riches, my Abuela (spanish for grandmother) was an orphan, as was my Abuelo (grandfather) and were both raised by poor uncles and aunts. Kindred and tenacious spirits, they met in their latter teens, married, had 7 children (!) and became a power-couple, setting up one of the biggest transportation companies in Mexico (no-longer). They were now keeping up with the Mexican elite.

Mum through the years, from cute but restless Mexican girl to adopted Brit, she triumphed adapting impressively to her new English life- gaining a History degree whilst heavily pregnant- BOOM!- thats my mum! 

Abuela was a total matriarch, very religious and conservative, keeping business and family in shape; but, my mum was the rebel-child, often getting reprimanded by the nuns at school. She showed early signs of restlessness, battling with the social rigors of her upper-class status and opting to hang out with a more ‘alternative’ crowd. Very lucky for my mum, unlike dad’s parents, Abuela was in one way progressive, believing firmly in the power of education for all as a means to self-improvement. At 19, my mum was sent to a homestay in Ireland to learn English (and probably hoping she would return an obedient God-fearing woman).

It was the first time mum had been so far away from home, and alone. Precocious for the time (like my dad) as a young unmarried woman, she took the opportunity to travel alone in Europe. Unbeknown, she shared my dad’s thirst for adventure.

On her return to Mexico City, my mum was ready to focus on a career-path and her exploratory nature led her to choose archaeology, studying at the renowned National Institute of Archaeology and History, the mecca for pre-hispanic studies. Her social circles expanded and she was mixing with Mexico’s young intelligentsia … now lets forward to 76

Mum and Dad: Rose-Moreno

1976, Mexico City: This bit is short-and-sweet; no Tinder or Bumble, the way it happened back then (apart from set-ups and marriages of convenience). My hippy, self-made journalist, Jewish- British father and my slightly alternative, but posh Catholic-Mexican student mum walked into the same house-party. They met, dated and 1 year later, in ‘77 were married! Due to their shared love for discovery, instead of settling immediately,  they backpacked throughout Latin America for many months. Eventually they moved to England, where they both embarked on degrees at Essex University and gave birth to their British-Mexican children, a rare but wonderful breed (may I say?!)

So this gives some context as to how I came to be, inheriting my parent’s sense of adventure and discovery, my abuela’s tenacity, my mum's love for the anthropology of her country, and a mixture of two wonderfully contrasting cultures- Mexico steeped in ancient-history, still celebrated today, its vibrant folklore;  and England, it's progressive multi-cultural outlook (I still like to think despite Brexit), its love of the arts and forward-thinking design.  How could I not want to bring these two worlds together, it was meant to be!