Martha Stewart's Motherhood
And Her Radical Domesticity
I grew up on Martha Stewart.
While I don’t recall any of Stewart’s many books gracing our family bookshelves, I know my mother absorbed her gospel. Sage green entered our home through Martha Stewart. Cranberry sauce made with orange rind replaced canned due to Martha Stewart. A red and white toile fabric surely was the slipcover of choice on our family room couch because of Martha Stewart. My mother clipped photos of Martha Stewart’s various cropped bobs and brought them to her hairstylist. Martha Stewart Living was our bible.
As long as I’ve known about “taste,” I’ve known about Stewart, and as long as I’ve considered domesticity, I’ve considered it (at least partially) through the lens of her empire. Consciously or not.
In the new Netflix documentary about Stewart, much is (rightly!) said about Stewart being the “original influencer” and her uncanny ability to create and nurture a brand that was as much about aspiration as it was about achievability. But what strikes me as perhaps most impressive about Stewart’s legacy isn’t necessarily her truly stunning influence on how Americans view their homes and their place within them. It’s her ability to reign for so long as queen of all things domestic—without Stewart’s domesticity being intrinsically bound up in her performance of motherhood.