The Two Grandmothers That Shaped Me
A story about Beauty, Purpose and Legacy
I grew up in the quiet shadow of two women. Both grandmothers. Both deeply human. But their paths could not have been more different—and their stories shaped the woman I am today.
Stella: A Life Fully Lived
Stella, my mother’s mother, lived with fire in her soul and purpose in her steps.
She was a school physical education instructor and remained active and strong well into her 80s. She walked daily, read voraciously, and studied math and physics before bed just to keep her brilliant mind sharp. She rearranged the furniture in her home whenever she felt inspired and poured herself into every idea with full, passionate intensity.
Even Stella, in all her strength and elegance, had her moments of struggle.
Years later, I learned she had breast cancer—and chose to carry that burden almost entirely on her own. She kept it quiet, not wanting to upset those who loved her most. I was shocked when I found out. You could see the weight she carried, not just in her body, but in her silence.
And yet, even with that private heaviness, she still managed to make us laugh. She had a dry, witty sense of humor that—still today—makes me smile big.
I’ll never forget the time she noticed a bit of extra weight gathering around her waist—and instead of ignoring it, she posted a handwritten sign on her refrigerator that read:
“Stella, STOP and look at your belly!”
It still makes me laugh. But it also makes me love her even more.
She wasn’t harsh—she was just honest. With herself. With her habits. With her goals.
She didn’t make excuses. She made choices.
And that’s the kind of mindset I hope to inspire in other women today: not judgment, not shame, but accountability wrapped in self-respect.
Stella was a force. And she saw that same force in me.
It was Stella who gave me the strength to leave Italy and move to the U.S. on my own. I had confided my decision only to her—but truthfully, I was scared.
With her usual no-nonsense grace, she simply said,
“Try it. And if it doesn’t work, I’ll buy you a ticket home.”
That one quiet act of belief changed everything.
It taught me that we don’t have to wait until we’re fearless—we just need enough courage to take the first step. Whether it’s crossing an ocean or challenging the quiet, limiting beliefs we hold about what’s possible—for our lives, for our bodies, for our future—we must try.
Because sometimes, trying is what unlocks everything.
Before Stella, there was another woman who shaped me in a very different way. A woman whose story still aches in my heart, and whose memory became the quiet fuel behind everything I hope to offer other women today.
Rosalba: When Joy Fades Quietly
Rosalba, who raised me, was once full of life. When she was well, she threw the most unforgettable parties. Her home would burst with music, laughter, and warmth. She had a childlike spirit—joyful, playful, and incredibly creative. Her eye for detail was unmatched: the dinner table always had fresh flowers, polished silver, and a touch of elegance that made every meal feel like an occasion. And the food? To this day, she remains the most extraordinary cook I’ve ever known. Her love was poured into every dish, every little moment.
But life dealt her a devastating blow. When she lost one of her daughters at just 21, something in her spirit broke. She fell into a deep depression, and over time, her vibrant self disappeared.
Her health began to deteriorate rapidly. She became inactive, significantly overweight, and her diet—once rich in flavor—became nutrient-poor and emotionally driven. It was a vicious cycle: the more her body hurt, the more she retreated. And the more she retreated, the more her body declined.
She would spend days in bed without changing out of her gown or giving her body even the smallest gesture of self-care, the television flickering quietly beside her.
As a child, I knew something about that picture was terribly wrong—but I didn’t have healthy role models to help me understand it. I only knew that the woman who had once filled a room with joy was fading right in front of me. And now, looking back with the eyes of a woman who has fought for her own health and healing, I can see it clearly:
She was silently screaming for help.
Today, I carry her with me. I carry her wounds. Her joy. Her love of beauty. And I carry the ache of what was lost—not just in her life, but in the lives of so many women like her.
Women who once danced.
Who once dreamed.
Who now suffer quietly in their homes, in their bodies, in their hearts.
And it’s for them—for Rosalba—that I do this work.
That I speak up.
That I teach beauty as a way back to joy.
A way back to purpose.
A way back to who they were always meant to be.
The Mission: Why I Built Élan Petite
Legacy walks beside us—and sometimes, she hands us the bouquet.
Élan Petite may look like a fashion brand. But at its heart, it’s much more than beautiful clothing.
It’s a call back to vitality. To intention.
To living and aging gracefully—not just with elegance, but with strength, health, and purpose.
I believe that petite women deserve more than just tailored jeans and shorter hemlines.
We deserve confidence. Beauty. Longevity. Wisdom. Joy.
We deserve to feel powerful in our bodies—and not ashamed to want to feel well in them.
This is not about chasing thinness. This is not about unrealistic ideals.
This is about stewarding the one vessel we’ve been given. It’s about not giving up.
It’s about helping the Rosalbas of the world find their spark again—and guiding them, gently but clearly, back to the woman they once were… or always wanted to become.
Élan means vital spirit.
And I named this brand that way on purpose.
Because I believe it’s time for us all to live with more élan.
With love,
Lily
