When I was a teenager, I would sit in awe of these women. This was where I learned how to be a woman. There was my grandmother, a beauty whose outlook on life was to worry about things tomorrow and to see life as an adventure. I would watch Margot, the youngest of the group, put on her Chanel red lipstick, luxuriously opening her compact to inspect her full lips until they were perfectly, evenly red. There was Guera, a striking blonde, tall and elegant who married Wally, an American composer who knew Frank Sinatra and called the girls, ‘broads.’ Angelita modeled a different kind of beauty and one I aspire to when I get older: trim with beautiful gray hair pulled back in a bun, a little eyeliner on her large brown eyes and large chunks of jewelry made of natural stones like coral or turquoise always outlining her neck and ears. Noemi taught me to make delicious mini tacos, called tacos sudados. I learned that the table had to be bountiful with good food like cactus salad and cilantro mousse and mole Poblano—woe to the hostess whose lunch was mediocre.