Life's Rich Tapestry

On the eve of a new book of her mother’s latest work, Kate Rheinstein Brodsky reflects on being raised by legendary designer Suzanne Rheinstein.

- Kate Rheinstein Brodsky

MINE WAS NOT THE TYPICAL 1980S CHILDHOOD. BEING THE daughter of Suzanne Rheinstein, is it any wonder? While other children played in soccer leagues on weekends, I was taken to San Juan Capistrano, California, to see antiquarian Gep Durenberger and the Decorative Arts Study Center. I had been to cocktails at Dawnridge, Tony Duquette's house, by the time I was 10. I carpeted my dollhouse (a Georgian townhouse, naturally) in fabric samples pilfered from my mother's desk. My childhood bedroom was pale pink and sage, with cream quatrefoil-painted floors and glazed-chintz balloon shades a glorious Colefax and Fowler fever dream. Self-expression was encouraged, but posters and collages could be hung only on the inside of the closet door. I was an only child of older parents and, luckily, I was perfectly content to be an anomaly.

We did "Interesting Things" on trips. School breaks were spent touring important gardens, house museums, and antiques stores. I knew to ask politely which chair was OK to sit in, and from the time I learned to read, I carried a book with me wherever I went. My mother consistently worked hard to engage me wherever we traveled. I remember a trip when I was about 12 to Paris, where my mother found someone to give us a walking architectural tour of ancien régime Paris. She prefaced this by handing me an abridged volume of the letters of Madame de Sévigné and telling me I needed to read it as preparation.