Domestic Goddesses

In the past, the figures who inspired us to don oven mitts never presumed to inspire a life beyond the serving platter. Julia Child suggested that she could help us to master the art of French cooking and no more; if we envied her kitchen pegboard, it was incidental. But when a young caterer named Martha Stewart saw the potential in selling crafty perfection to American women, elevating domesticity started a life-encompassing pursuit. Martha taught us to hand-mill, sponge-paint, and fricassee our way to bliss, but never bothered with the transcendent potential of what could happen upon those needlepoint pillows. Furthermore, she has always maintained a professional separation between her tutorials and her own life — the closest we get is gawking at her occasional posted schedule, which invariably involves organizing the stable and label-making. (She knew better than to write a prison sex memoir, but damn if you wouldn’t have read it.)

No Sex, Please — We’re Domestic Goddesses