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.
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!
LOVE THIS SOOOO MUCH!!! xx
ReplyDeleteWow Jess, what a lovely re-telling of your parents' backgrounds and your own history! Really warmed my heart! And do you recognise the lady next to your mum in the third photo from left...? Yep, that's my mum :-) It's the same photo as the one below with both your parents, which must mean my father took the photo :-) Somewhere during their backpacking months in Latin America... It's so wonderful how our parents have kept their decades-long friendship alive, having just spent a holiday together in Sweden (together with my now 7-year-old son Elias!). I'm really enjyoing following your work - it's very inspiring! I'm looking forward to seeing how it develops. Great to see how you're following your heart. My love and success, Nadescha x
ReplyDelete