Every once in a while, parenthood gives you one of those little moments that feels too good to keep to yourself. The kind of moment that stops you in your tracks, makes you laugh, and melts your heart all at once. This week, mine arrived courtesy of a city bus, a very famous model, and my two-year-old son, James.
If you follow along on Twitter or Facebook, you may have caught a hint of this story already, but it’s worth telling properly. Picture me on the sidewalk in New York, trying to look somewhat put-together while shooting photos. Suddenly, a bus rolls past—plastered with a larger-than-life DKNY campaign featuring none other than Cara Delevingne. And in that instant, James points at the ad and exclaims with certainty: “Mommy!”
At first, I brushed it off, thinking it was just me hearing what I secretly wanted to hear. Surely my toddler hadn’t just mistaken Cara Delevingne—the supermodel, actress, and all-around cool girl—for his mother, who at that moment was juggling a coffee, a camera bag, and the general chaos of life with kids. But then the story repeated itself. Thomas came home one evening and said, “By the way, James kept pointing at a bus ad today and calling it you.” And as if to confirm this wasn’t just parental wishful thinking, our nanny told me the very same thing the next morning.
So yes, it’s official: my child thinks I bear a striking resemblance to Cara Delevingne.
The Innocence of Childhood Eyes
The truth is, James has no idea who Cara Delevingne is. He doesn’t know about runway shows, eyebrow envy, or DKNY campaigns. What he does know is me—his mom, the person he sees when he wakes up, the one who reads him bedtime stories, the one who makes silly faces at him when he refuses to eat broccoli.
Children view the world through such a pure, uncluttered lens. When James looks at a towering bus ad, he doesn’t see a celebrity, he sees familiarity. Something about Cara’s hair, or her stance, or maybe just the way her face catches the light must remind him of me. And in his mind, that connection is enough.
It’s the sweetest reminder that to our kids, we are the ultimate reference point. We are their standard of beauty, comfort, and recognition. Long before they learn about fame or fashion, they see us as the center of their little universe.
Why It Made My Day (Every Day)
There’s something incredibly humbling about realizing that your child associates you with one of the world’s most recognizable faces. And yes, I’ll admit it—it gave me a boost. Not because I believe I could pass for Cara Delevingne (spoiler: I cannot), but because in James’s eyes, I was worthy of comparison.
Every time he points at that bus and says “Mommy,” I can’t help but smile. It’s like a little love note from him to me, unfiltered and unprompted. Parenthood can be exhausting, messy, and chaotic, but these small moments make it all feel magical.
The Beauty in Being Seen
As adults, we’re often our own harshest critics. We scroll through images of models and actresses and think, “If only…” We notice every flaw, every detail we wish we could change. But kids don’t see us through that lens. They don’t compare us to ideals or campaigns. They see us as the most beautiful, familiar face in the world.
That’s the real magic in James’s compliment—it wasn’t really about Cara at all. It was about him seeing me everywhere, even on a city bus. And I’ve realized there’s a kind of beauty in being recognized by your child, in the way they notice you and associate you with the people and places around them.
A Compliment Worth Keeping
So now, whenever I pass by Cara’s DKNY ad, I look at it differently. Not through the eyes of someone admiring a glamorous campaign, but through James’s eyes—eyes that remind me that beauty is deeply personal, tied to love and connection.
It’s a little story I’ll carry with me, one that I’ll happily embarrass him with when he’s older: “Remember when you thought I was Cara Delevingne?” Maybe by then he’ll roll his eyes, but I’ll always treasure the innocence of that moment.
Because sometimes the sweetest compliments don’t come from friends, or strangers, or even our partners. They come from the tiny humans who love us unconditionally and see us exactly as we are—and sometimes, even as a supermodel.
