Lessons, p.8
Lessons, page 8
Finally there’s Fafi, my baby. Since Fafi was born I became her second mother, or, rather, one of her five second mothers. Fafi likes to joke that she’s our mom’s favorite, but I think she is also the favorite of all her second mothers, too. After Fafi turned seven, she basically grew up as an only child with the run of the house. Like all my sisters, Fafi is a smart, beautiful, loving, supportive person. Today she has become like a second mother to Benny and Vivi, and there are no words to describe my endless gratitude for her. She is also the hipster in the family. It was Fafi who told me I should go on Instagram and Facebook. At first I said no. I’ve never enjoyed spending much time on the internet, and I’ve always been very private and didn’t want to display myself that way. It also sounded too high-maintenance. But Fafi persuaded me that social media was the best way to show the world who I really am, and I have to admit she had a point.
Along with Tom, my children, and my parents, I love my sisters more than anyone else in the world. The six of us spent our lives sharing, starting with our bedroom, the clothes we wore, and the chores we divided up around our house. I see the six of us as collaborators, and few things give me more joy than working with them. At one point in my life, many of my relationships—with my boyfriend, with my then-longtime agent—were either falling apart or being exposed for what they really were. Wanting me to feel I had at least one safe space, my father had an idea. After all, who always had my back? Who did I trust? My sisters. So when my dad suggested we all work together, it was a no-brainer. I feel so blessed that I got to grow up surrounded by six incredible women—my mon and my five sisters. Besides some hair-pulling and scratches when we were young, I have always considered my sisters my best friends, and there is nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for them and I know that goes both ways.
Before long, Pati organized a company in Brazil, and one by one my sisters came on board. At first none of them had any idea what the fashion world was about, and why should they? But they took the time to learn. For the past ten years, we have all worked together, except Fofa, who is still a federal judge, though that doesn’t stop her from giving her opinion any time a big decision needs to be made. I trust my sisters implicitly. We are all so different, but, as my dad says, we complement one another, help one another grow, and in general are really great together! Even when we have disagreements, or are tough with one another at times, we will always love and protect each other, no matter what. They’re all incredible at what they do. We’re a family, but we’re also a great team. Teamwork makes the dream work.
That’s not to say there aren’t moments when one of us gets upset and begins hollering. Family members typically reserve their most hurtful words for one another. As I said, with family members, your walls are down. Still, if anyone isn’t treating me right, whether it’s a friend or one of my sisters, my response is always the same: I am only going to be in relationships that are loving and respectful. When you are ready to resume a loving, respectful relationship, I am happy to talk to you. If you’re not ready yet, it’s okay. I will be here when you are.
With all my sisters, celebrating New Year’s in Los Angeles, 2000. From left to right, that’s Raque, Fofa, Fafi, me, Gabi, and Pati.
We learn a lot from our families. And then if we create a new family with a partner, then a lot more learning takes place. Especially with our children. It seems to me that everything has become raw and real and unfiltered with my children. Getting married and having kids has brought me face-to-face with an entirely new set of mirrors. I’ve noticed that everything that’s unsettled or extreme about my own personality has a funny way of spilling onto my husband and children and reflecting back onto me!
I’ve always been an impatient person. (My children and my sisters have made this very clear.) Usually I have lots of ideas, projects, and interests going on at the same time. I am definitely hyperactive, but in some ways I feel that has served me well. My mind sometimes works faster than my mouth can form words, and I’m someone who likes things to be done yesterday. So impatience has always been a big issue for me. I’m better than I used to be, and for this I credit my children, but I still have a long way to go. By nature Benny isn’t impatient, but last year I noticed he was starting to get testy. Well, since I knew this pattern of behavior wasn’t coming from Tom, whose fault was that if not mine? Becoming a mother has inspired me to work on myself even more than usual because I know I’m setting the emotional tone for my family, and also acting as a mirror for my children and husband. I always remind my kids that we are all here learning, and that our learning never, ever stops.
Earlier I spoke about how our teens and twenties are a time of intense inner negotiation. And few experiences teach us more about our wants, our needs, and our expectations than romantic relationships. In the past, I’ve been in romances where I felt I was swimming in fast-moving waters, and others where the water was calm and still. When I chose Tom to be my life partner, I was fortunate to find a man calmer than he is stormy. As his teammates will tell you, Tom is someone you can count on. It’s a quality I hadn’t experienced in any of my other romantic relationships. I love my husband—and most of all, I trust him. With Tom, who provides our family with a stable foundation, I’m able to create a home.
We also complement each other. Our values are similar. We’re both disciplined in our daily routines and habits. We’re both committed to good health and good nutrition (though I’ll eat a cookie if I want one, and Tom usually won’t). My husband is rational, analytical, and a man of few words. I’m emotional, intuitive, changeable, and a woman of many words. I’ve learned a lot from Tom. When Benny was younger, he dislocated his elbow and started screaming. I was frantic until Tom appeared and took control of the situation. I might never be as cool, calm, and collected as Tom is, but I’m working at it. I like to believe that Tom’s stability and steadiness give me the space and the freedom I need to fly, and that the little bird inside me knows—and Tom likes to remind me—that she’s held tightly to a slender, invisible string he keeps deep in one of his pockets.
Benny and Vivi giving Daddy some love in the kitchen in Boston after a tough loss in 2016.
With my family, I naturally fall into the role of nurturer. Tom works long days, and when he comes home, I want to make sure I am there for him. But from the beginning Tom trusted me enough to talk to me—really talk to me—and over the years I learned to stop talking as much and started being a better listener. As my dad likes to say, that’s why we were born with only one mouth and two ears.
Sometimes I think we can put too much pressure and responsibility on our marriages and partnerships. We expect our partners to be our lovers, our best friends, our advisers, our everything. This isn’t to say that in the course of any relationship we don’t play those roles, and that our partners don’t do the same for us. But why should one partner be responsible for the sum total of the other person’s experience? It’s unfair and limiting to both. After all, our lives are made up of so many relationships, and we learn different things from all of them.
Every relationship has something to add to our lives, even the difficult ones. I feel that in any relationship we are either learning, or teaching, sometimes both. I love harmony, and I love living in harmony with the people around me—and I believe that nothing creates harmony better than treating others the way we want to be treated. The energy and intention you put out is what counts. By sharing love, it’s more likely that you will get love back. But even when that doesn’t happen, I just keep on giving love. It’s who I am, and it’s what makes me feel good.
A picture of my friends from Believe Earth, right after my speech at Rock in Rio: (left to right) Pati, Estela, Me, Ana Lu, Marcos, and Pedro.
To my way of thinking, there is nothing more amazing than going through life fostering meaningful relationships. How great does it feel when you can really be there for another person, and then, years later, without any expectations, that person is there for you? How incomplete would our lives be without those relationships? At the end of the day, it’s not about rushing to get to the destination; it’s about enjoying the journey along the way, and that journey is made up of moments, experiences, and interactions with other people—and sometimes animals. That’s what creates memories. That’s what really matters.
Instinct also plays a part in our future relationships. After all, you never know when you’ll meet the people who may end up having a positive and lasting influence in your life. I’ve always had good luck whenever I follow my inner voice. A few years ago, I remember hearing about a man named Pedro, who was a key figure in regenerative agriculture in Brazil. One time when I was in São Paulo, I saw Pedro’s face on the cover of a magazine on the table at my hotel. I called my sister Pati to see if it was possible to arrange a meeting with him. Pati did set up a meeting, and soon my dad, Gabi, Fafi, and I went to visit Pedro at his beautiful farm, where we had a great conversation about nature and the need for all of us to work hard to protect the earth. Around this same time, I was asked to participate in a documentary film, The Beginning of Life, about the importance of a child’s first twenty-four months of life. Knowing that the filmmaker, Estela, is passionate about education and early childhood development, I wanted to help, so of course I said yes. Over the course of subsequent meetings with Pedro, I learned that he was good friends with Ana Lu, who happened to work with Estela, and who started the Alana Institute, which is devoted to helping children thrive through quality education. Only a few months after meeting Pedro, I met Ana Lu, her husband, Marcos, and Estela, when they were in Boston. Our positive connection was instantaneous. So we made a plan to have dinner at Ana and Marcos’s house the next time I would be in Brazil. When we got together, we discussed how we could unite forces to create positive change in the world. We sat in a circle outside on the grass during a beautiful full moon and shared our thoughts and beliefs about creating a better world by spreading positivity and hope.
That was the birth of Believe Earth. Our intention was to create a platform to showcase people who are making positive contributions to the world. Our mission statement is If you believe, the future can be unbelievable. How could I have known that Pedro, Estela, and Ana and Marcos were friends? Or that my instinct to contact Pedro and the fact that I participated in The Beginning of Life documentary would create the spark that led to the founding of Believe Earth? Life truly is an adventure and we never know where our friendships will lead us—which is what makes them so interesting.
I believe that all our relationships—including our marriages or partnerships—come to us to support our growth, and give us the opportunity to learn to create happiness and fulfillment. All our relationships together form a kind of mosaic. On mine the largest area belongs to Tom, Benny, Vivi, Jack, and our extended families. There are also parts of the mosaic of my life that belong to the friends I made during my early days in New York—Nino, Helly, Robby, Jody, Anne, Harry, Amber, Kevin, and Katie. Other pieces are reserved for childhood friends from Horizontina and for friends I have from all over the world who have inspired me and shared my passion and purpose for making the world a better place. Others represent friendships I’ve made at my children’s school, and friendships Tom and I created together. And yet there are large sections that are still blank. It’s reserved for all the friends and teachers I haven’t met yet. My goal is to keep learning about myself and others until I take my last breath—to experience my life to the fullest. That’s why I’m here.
At my baby shower with some of my closest friends, Boston, 2009.
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One of the longest and most important relationships of my life wasn’t with another person. It was with a dog. A beautiful, funny, playful, loving, irresistible little dog named Vida. A day doesn’t pass when I don’t think about her and miss her. Believe me when I say I wouldn’t have accomplished very much in my job or my life without Vida.
I think of dogs as guardian angels, as protectors in animal form. Vida and I came into each other’s lives when I was eighteen years old. For two years I’d been living out of a suitcase in New York City in a models’ apartment—four rooms with two bunk beds apiece, a revolving crash pad for girls from all over the world—on East Thirty-Fifth Street. I was working literally every day and at night memorizing English phrases from my Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men cassettes, since I was too busy to attend my intensive English classes.
Since leaving Brazil, I’d been completely independent and in charge of my own life. Despite being an eighteen-year-old girl living almost five thousand miles away from my family, I did not think of myself as lonely. But maybe I felt more alone than I realized, because when Vida came into my life, she gave me comfort and love that I didn’t even know were missing.
I first saw Vida in the front window of a store called American Kennels. I was either coming from or going to a casting when I saw the tiniest, most adorable dog I’d ever seen frolicking in a nest of straw on Madison Avenue and Sixty-Second Street. She was so small she could have easily fit in my hand. I went inside, stretched out on the floor, and played with her for the next few hours. I lost all track of time. Just seeing her in the window made me fall in love with her, spending time with her made the relationship official. She, Vida, was the one. I was sure of it. I found out she was a Teacup Yorkie, a breed I didn’t know anything about. I did know there was no way I was leaving that store without her.
It was late afternoon, and right before closing time I handed the clerk my credit card. At three hundred dollars, the price was very high, I thought, but I reminded myself that American Kennels sold pedigreed dogs to Upper East Siders and was as far from a puppy mill as you could get. I left the store with my new best friend, tucking her under my coat to keep her warm, and she and I began our great adventure together. In that one moment my life changed. It wasn’t just about me living in New York, and working all the time, and memorizing Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men lyrics under my blankets. It was now Vida and me against the world!
Me with my single braid and single feather earring, and baby Vida, a few days after she and I found each other, in front of the apartment I was subletting on Tenth and University Place in New York (they had kicked us out of the models’ apartment). Look how tiny Vida is! Look at that face!
There was only one problem: the models’ apartment had a strict no-pets rule. I wasn’t allowed to stay there with Vida. There was no question, I wouldn’t return Vida to the store. I told the other girls that my new dog weighed only two pounds and could literally fit in my hand. Did she really count as a pet? The building rules didn’t apply to someone that small, did they? Could I stay there just one more night and make a new plan in the morning? The next day, knowing I didn’t have enough money to rent an apartment or stay in a hotel, I found a room in an SRO by the Midtown Tunnel—shared toilets, shared showers, a small dark room with only a bed and a sink—where I lived for the next week. It was a gloomy, scary place. When I told my agent about my new living situation, she told me she feared for my life. The next day she found me a sublet in the West Village whose owner, another model, was working in Paris for the next few months.
Vida still didn’t have a name. The Brazilian word for life is vida, and I kept hugging and kissing her while saying, Minha vida! Minha vida! My life! My life! So she became Vida. It was the perfect name for her, too, because Vida did become my life. Then, a few days after I moved into my sublet, the phone rang. It was my mother, and she sounded furious. My credit card was linked to hers, and the credit card bill had just come in the mail. At the time I was getting some good exposure as a model and building my portfolio, but I wasn’t making much money yet. When I did shows or appeared in magazines, I would usually walk away with around one hundred dollars. I had a little money I’d socked away from working in Japan, and my agency gave me advances they deducted from whatever jobs I got, but my mom and I still shared a joint account, since she felt I was too young to be completely in charge of my own finances. That’s how she learned I’d just spent three thousand dollars at a store called American Kennel, and Gise, do you know how much money that is, and what in heaven’s name are you thinking? I felt my whole stomach cramp up. I hadn’t noticed that extra zero. If I thought three hundred dollars was a lot of money, three thousand dollars was unimaginable. I could still hear my mom’s voice—she worked as a bank teller and knew the value of a dollar. But she had to understand. Whether it was three hundred or three thousand dollars, buying Vida was the best thing I’d ever done. Mom, I kept saying, you don’t understand. We’re talking about Vida!
Let me say it again, everything I accomplished in my career or life wouldn’t have been possible without Vida. Vida was there for me always. She was the only constant in my life. Every day she made me happier, more joyful, and more complete. She was my angel, my shield, my bodyguard, my baby, my daughter, my mother, my closest friend. With Vida around, I was never alone. I could just be an eighteen-year-old girl.
When the model whose apartment I sublet returned home from Paris, I went on and sublet another one, this time on Fifty-Eighth and Eighth Avenue. I found it through an ad in the paper. This apartment cost six hundred dollars a month, which was all I could afford at the time. It was a cramped studio, the kitchen two black burners and a mini-fridge, the bathroom shower a hose sticking down from the ceiling. Prostitutes gathered outside every night at the end of the block. I slept on a mattress on the floor, with Vida next to me. One night I saw something moving around slowly and called out, “Vida?” But I could feel her body next to mine, and when I turned on the light, I saw a rat three times Vida’s size crawling around right near me. The next morning I bought mouse traps at the supermarket. Not only was my mother scheduled to visit me soon, but people told me that rats could eat someone as small as Vida.
