As a young girl, I would transform our living room into my own grand stage. With Raffaella Carrà's vibrant music blasting from the record player, I'd drape pieces of fabric around myself like a glamorous dress, slip into my mother's oversized high heels, and layer on her makeup. Sometimes I'd perform atop the coffee table, other times I'd make a dramatic entrance descending the stairs in our apartment building, feeling every bit the celebrity. I'd sing at the top of my lungs,
