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@reedreck

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Los Angeles & Cal Kappa 🪽
@knockoutbeauty
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🍓🍒
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out west⭐️
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Holding it down in the Bay 🐻
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My mother loved a double entendre. Before we give birth, we labor. Creation is labor. Children, art, companies. There is dignity in creation. Work doesn’t start and stop for me. It is woven into the fabric of my life. And yet, the day after Labor Day has always felt like the return to work. The return to seriousness. Summer is over. Back to work. I find some irony in the fact that I am very much a mother and yet I never went into labor. Both of my babies were born by C-section. Maybe that’s what I like about Labor Day. It sits at the threshold. It honors the work, while somehow also feeling like the moment before the work begins again. And labor, of course, is what comes before something new is born. What are we about to make? How exciting! xxCCR
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Sweet home Kappa Gamma 🔑🩵
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Presented as comment. Tagged a few people who came to mind.
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Checking in
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13 years ago today. Check on your friends with kids going to college. We are ok. We are not ok. It’s ok. It’s not ok. They are ok. They are not ok. It’s all going to be ok. We are so happy for them. It’s so sad. Both are true.
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Some things are worth carrying with you. The new Knockout Beauty tote, somewhere between here and there. Now boarding at knockoutbeauty.com
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A month from today I will pack up the car with a mattress topper, shower caddy, and whatever else I am currently being targeted for on social media, and drive what I anticipate will feel like the shortest six hours of my life. A few days later, I’ll drive that same route home after dropping my firstborn at college. I suspect those will be the longest six hours. I have spent the last 18 years knowing this moment would arrive. I have spent the last 335 days preparing. Who’s counting? Me. I am counting all of it. Only now I realize it all counts, just not in the way I once thought it would. I had 13 summers with my mom. So far I have had 21 with my husband, 18 with my daughter, 16 with my son, and 49 with my dad. As I begin making lists, in my mind, in my Notes app, on scraps of paper, I notice that every list is really asking the same question. What is enough? Enough sheets to change the bed weekly and the pillowcase daily if your skin breaks out. (Pro tip.) Enough underwear to let laundry day have some ease. Enough skincare to share. Enough shoes to have options. Enough familiar things to remind you of home. Enough empty space to invite something new. Enough calls and texts to offer support without becoming a tether. Enough opportunities to come home. Enough opportunities to make a life that has nothing to do with home. And then, beneath every practical list, sits the only question that really matters. Have I given her enough guidance? Enough confidence? Enough agency? We have a lifetime to find out. This is us celebrating 10 years of Knockout Beauty last week.
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When the world shut down a little over six years ago, I had just returned from Paris with my daughter after celebrating her twelfth birthday. As the walls began to close in, I kept thinking about Frederick, the little mouse who spent the warm months gathering more than food. While the others collected grain, he collected colors, light, stories, and moments so that when winter arrived, he could help everyone through it. On June 9, 2021, France reopened its borders to Americans. By August 1, I had packed up my then thirteen-year-old daughter and eleven-year-old son, and we landed in Paris. It was an unusually sleepy Paris. August always slows the city down, and after the pandemic even more people had left. We wandered without much of a plan, grateful simply to be there. Paris has always lived somewhere inside me. The first time I went, I was six months old, traveling with my parents during the collections. When I was little, I used to call hotels in France just to hear someone answer in French before asking for the front desk. Sometimes I would call Air France simply to listen to the hold music. I was probably nine years old. It felt like the closest thing to being there. I always imagined I would go to Paris with my mother. Our last trip together was to London, just a few months before my twelfth birthday. Soon after we came home, she stopped walking. I still believed she would get better. I never imagined we had already taken our last trip together. We never made it to Paris. Now I get to take my children. Every time we go, it feels like I bring something home with me. Not souvenirs, but little pieces of the city. A beautiful shop. A film. A restaurant. A way of setting a table. A book. An idea worth passing on. Maybe that’s what Frederick was doing all along. Not preparing for winter. Preparing to remind everyone that beauty still exists when winter comes. I’d be honored to be a Frederick.
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EPISODE 1 of Moms & Muses drops tomorrow 🫶🏼✨ For our first three episodes we’re sitting down in our Los Angeles store with the iconic Cayli Cavaco Reck, Tori Praver and Estée Stanley and their equally iconic daughters 🩷 Celebrating the mother-daughter duos who inspire us most. See you tomorrow 💕 @caylicavacoreck @toripraver @esteestanley
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