If you're sitting in a place like Martha's Vineyard, I don't think you're going to write a song about a ski resort.
At first glance, Martha Stewart, queen of artfully distressed home furnishings, might not seem to have much in common with Michael R. Milken, one-time king of junk bonds.
I'm proud to be Martha Stewart's daughter.
My great grandmother, Martha, was hired at 11 years old to be a worker to people.
My mom, the fabulous Bertie Kinsey, is an amazing seamstress. She quilts and sews and is so crafty. We call her the Southern Martha Stewart!
I think of my parents as a single unit, and it's interesting because they shared so much, and they were totally opposite. My mother, a Martha Graham dancer, had a classical background; my father had a back-porch background.
With Martha Stewart, the power of the brand, the power of television, taught me that if you can marry all those ingredients - like you marry a great song with a great artist - and get the right television exposure, then you've got something that really is going to be sustainable. You can expand and blow up.
As the youngest of six kids, I grew up spending summers on Martha's Vineyard, and I was always topless. All the pictures are of me in jean shorts, no shirt - with my brothers, playing football.
I started my own business because my parents had no dowry for me, and I was worried. I ran it from their Martha Vineyard's summer house. I baby-sat for a 14-year-old boy all summer and was giving him time-outs, even though I was two years younger than him.
My mother could do absolutely anything. She was like Martha Stewart before such a thing existed.
