She taught me to embrace fine wools, rich cottons and silks, and run from synthetic fabrics like polyester and rayon

From my mother I learned never to buy anything at full price and to choose timeless classics over

trends. She taught me to embrace fine wools, rich cottons and silks, and run from synthetic fabrics like

polyester and rayon. Fingering a particularly offensive piece of material, she'd shake her head and say,

"The minute you start sweating in this, the smell alone will kill you." Pleather was a huge no-no. And

cheap shoes? "They'll destroy your feet," she'd say. As she dropped her nuggets of sartorial wisdom, I

took mental notes. On those days she wasn't my mother "the dictator," and I wasn't her daughter "the

surly, hormone-ravaged insurgent." Instead, we were comrades and friends, eager to help each other look

our best.

Over the years, I inherited my mother's love of crisp white button-downs, form-fitting black

turtlenecks, statement jewelry and massive Jackie O--inspired sunglasses. I'm still partial to wide-leg

pants--"They're flattering to our figure," Mom always said--and wouldn't dare appear in flammable

clothing. But our special favor has always been reserved for the sharply tailored trench. So when the

Gap marked down a lovely knee-length number with a funky polka-dot lining to $34.99, I couldn't stop

myself from buying one for me and one for my mother. "I love it," she said, when I presented it to her.

"It's so my style." She didn't have to tell me. I already knew. And I also knew that I had lied to my

husband, because I didn't really blame my mother for my trench coat obsession. In my heart, I was

thanking her.

SEXY GROWS UP
As a curvy girl in the 'hood. Bevy Smith embraced spandex. But what does sexy look like on the other

side of 40?

Just because a woman has curves doesn't mean she can wear spandex. But I was one of the lucky ones.

Coming of age in the 1980's, I was an early adopter of the skintight material, which earned me the

distinction of being "The first girl in Harlem to wear a catsuit." The term brick house fit me, my firm

breasts encased in a 34C cup over a divine 26-inch waist and size-6 bottom. I quickly realized that

being a chocolate Jessica Rabbit garnered me attention, and like most teen girls, I wanted attention. I

began to dress like an eroticized super heroine; spandex was my superpower.

Initially when I stepped onto the streets of Harlem in a skimpy neon pink spandex minidress, barely

covering my thick thighs, I was the recipient of much derision from the block. My style of dress made

both men and women gawk. But each day when I left my house, my mother told me I looked good and I had a

beautiful shape. That gave me the courage to adopt the mantra, If you got it, flaunt it. After a summer

of watching me stop traffic in flesh-baring, brightly colored outfits, girls from the neighborhood

decided "if you can't beat them, join them." I was more than happy to take quite a few of them to get

their first spandex outfits.

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