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I was seven years old when my family moved to New York from London. It was January 1992, and my mother had just been named editor-in-chief Harper’s Bazaar. She was the editor of Vogue in the UK, where both my parents were from. She liked that job, having started out at the magazine two decades earlier as an assistant. We had family and friends in London. One of my earliest memories was of presenting flowers to Princess Diana. She and our mom got to know each other during her time at Vogue. Looking back now, it seems a bit surreal. But even as a child, I had this strong sense that it must have been a pretty special opportunity for her and our father to leave all that behind and move in with me and my older brother, Rob, who was 11 at a time, worldwide. sea and around the world. The opportunity to come to the US and reimagine a magazine like that bazaar she was one she couldn’t pass up.
It was a big transition for all of us. I remember our first two or three months in New York, we lived in a hotel. The food was different. So was the weather. My brother and I had to learn about new sports, like baseball and basketball, and make new friends.
Our mom wanted to make sure we stayed connected to our family in England, but at the same time she wanted us to be fully engaged with the new one we found forming around us in New York. The world of fashion is small, so we were lucky to be surrounded by people like our mum’s friend Grace Coddington, who she worked with at British Vogue. Grace herself moved to the States after becoming the creative director of the American edition. Our mom also knew Patrick Demarchelier, who was one of the first photographers she signed to shoot for her bazaar He, his wife, Mia, and their sons, Gustaf, Art, and Victor, were very welcoming to us all—as was the editor in charge Esquire at the time, Terry McDonell, and his family.
Our parents were always very open and honest with us about everything. My brother and I were adopted, something we’ve known all our lives. Before our family moved to New York, they discussed the idea with us: why they wanted to do it, how we felt about it, what motivated us or worried us about it. Although we were young, they were always very upfront with us about things that could affect us, and it always felt like they made a real effort to involve us in the decisions they were making for us and our people.
That openness and honesty was very important when they told us that our mum had ovarian cancer. It was December 1993, or just under two years after we moved. It also came during what should have been a time of celebration for our mom. The response to his reinvention of bazaar She was very positive, and she had more than settled in life in the United States. She even struck up a friendship with the nation’s new first lady, Hillary Clinton, who moved into the White House just months after our mom. removed for the first time. issue.
Back then, there wasn’t really much of the internet to talk about – and very little information about ovarian cancer in general. Existing research couldn’t explain what caused it or who was most at risk, although my mum suspected that the fertility treatments she received in England in the 70s—which ultimately failed by the way – have a role in the development of the. her disease. Our parents told us that she had Stage III cancer, that she was going to start treatment, and that there would be challenges ahead.
Most of our understanding of ovarian cancer, however, came from what we saw with our own eyes. Over the next five and a half years, we saw all the ebb and flow of our mom’s battle with the disease. But through it all, our parents never tried to hide from us how she was feeling. Whenever she was in the hospital, we visited her every day.
Our mom also refused to let her illness define her or stop her from doing things that were important to her. Even when she was in hospital, she would hold meetings with the bazaar teams, going over fashion boards and making decisions. Working with people who inspired her – with people she trusted – was one of the things she loved. In some ways, I think it kept her going. She was fighting for us as a family and trying to be there for us, but that job meant so much to her. Not many people get to do something they love, and watching the way she seemed to understand and understand has always stuck with me.
She was also very aware of her time with us. We always had family dinners on Sunday, which is very European, and she didn’t let her job or her illness get in the way of being a parent. She loved doing things like going on family vacations and hosting cocktail parties. Of course, there were restrictions because of her health, but I never remember hearing her say, “I can’t do that today.” She would find a way or find the energy to be part of things – to be there as a leader, as a mother, and for the people in her life.
Our mom understood that as an editor bazaar, she had the ability to make a difference in the lives of others. Shortly after starting treatment, she began sharing what she was doing in real time with the magazine’s audience in letters to the editor and in a series of features on the latest ovarian cancer science. bazaar She was also open and honest—about the questions she had, the answers she was looking for, the uncertainty she was facing. I can’t speak for my mom, but I think she felt that talking about things—even very difficult things, like illness—helped give space to other people to talk about them. It was also a way to let those people know that whatever they were going through, they were not going through it alone.
In many ways, it was that motivation that led our mom to join the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund – now known as the Ovarian Cancer Research Alliance, or OCRA. She learned about the organization from her oncologist, Peter Dottino. At that time, OCRF was mainly focused on funding medical research into ovarian cancer. But my mom, who became president of OCRF in 1997, saw an even greater opportunity to increase awareness of the disease and help patients like herself and families like us, who were living with it.
OCRA’s main mission remains to raise money to find new treatments – and a cure – for ovarian cancer. But today the organization operates on a variety of fronts, supporting and advocating for patients and carers and focusing on improving outcomes as well as prevention.
September is Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month. Although our understanding of ovarian cancer has advanced in the three decades since our mom was diagnosed, there is no cure or reliable way to screen for it. It has often progressed significantly before any symptoms are even present. That’s why early detection is critical. Genetic testing is now more widely available, and OCRA encourages anyone who has a first-degree relative, such as a parent or sibling, who has been diagnosed with any type of cancer. (More information about OCRA’s work, as well as recommendations and resources, can be found at ocrahope.org.)
It is now 25 years since our mum died, in April 1999. It is always nice to hear from people whose lives were touched by her work, as an editor and supporter. I know that her determination to talk about her experience, to raise awareness about the disease, and to raise money for research—and her passion to help others—have had a profound impact. But I think it’s all about who she was as a person—and that openness and honesty. That, to me, was at the heart of everything she did.
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