Apart from actually playing football, I am at my most happiest with either my dogs, or planting in the garden.
Fans in Madison Square Garden are a little bit hipper, but they are more vocal. It’s like, ‘Hey, you work for me, bro. I bought this ticket. Now get out there and entertain me.’
My first job ever was working a ski lift when I was 16. I also worked at a garden center, which I loved. I did that for two and a half years.
I might have missed my calling as an editor. In the spring, the sight of my empty garden beds gives me the horticultural equivalent of writers’ block: So much space! So many plants to choose among, and yet none of them seem quite right!
They say that gardens look better when they are created by loving gardeners rather than by landscapers, because the garden is more tended to and cared for. The same thing goes for cooking. I only cook for people I love.
The classic Italian green sauce, salsa verde, is easy to make and especially nice in the spring when bunches of fresh herbs start appearing in the farmers market or in your garden.
We have a well and a garden. I crawl around in the mud and grow great vegetables.
America has been conditioned to think of pasta as the never-ending pasta bowl and Olive Garden.
I have a study at the back of the house, overlooking our garden. It’s tiny, just wide enough to fit my desk in. The walls are covered with pin boards and art postcards from galleries all over the world, including Tate, MoMA, and Lenbachhaus.
Every time I imagine a garden in an architectural setting, it turns into a magical place. I think of gardens I have seen, that I believe I have seen, that I long to see, surrounded by simple walls, columns, arcades or the facades of buildings – sheltered places of great intimacy where I want to stay for a long time.
My mom tells me the first show we saw was ‘The Secret Garden,’ but I don’t remember that.
People think that because of my act that I must have a really busy mind and I must be driven. I really am not. I quite like going outside and looking at spiders on a hedge in my garden and stuff.
I take all my grandchildren down to the garden and they spend hours and hours eating peas.
I was a good Indian girl, but naughty in that I would often sneak out of the back door and into the garden and go off with my friends when I should have been at home cooking or cleaning.
Typically, I would say that I’m not defined by one loss and I’m not defined by one win. But I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t harp on the loss at Madison Square Garden.
The Garden of Wonders project encompasses the knowledge that Be Open has accumulated over the years of work on different continents and different spheres.
I will not serve lunch to anyone in the middle of a workday. I rarely rearrange my furniture or cabinets; once I find a drawer for something, it stays there. I don’t garden. And I don’t knit.
When I came out to my parents, I knew that they knew. My father was like, ‘Are you sure?’ I literally said, ‘You took me to see Barbra Streisand at Madison Square Garden.’
I love planting. I love digging holes, putting plants in, tapping them in. And I love weeding, but I don’t like tidying up the garden afterwards.
There are blessings in being close to the soil, in raising your own food even if it is only a garden in your yard and a fruit tree or two. Those families will be fortunate who, in the last days, have an adequate supply of food because of their foresight and ability to produce their own.
The Madison Square Garden is a great arena to play at.
I hate going anywhere. I’m really excited to travel and play all these different places, but if I had it my way, I would stay inside, maybe go to the back garden or walk around the corner to the shops. That’s it.
I don’t take myself seriously any more. Sometimes I just garden in my knickers and platform shoes.
L.A. is always great. There’s something special about L.A. And New York, for me, because it’s home. There’s nothing quite like walking onstage at Madison Square Garden.
I bought a place in Milan, but Missoni headquarters are out in the country, in Sumirago. My whole family eats out of the same vegetable garden; my mother raises chickens. I love the city, but if you’re always bombarded with stimulation, you get numb to it. I need to get bored to create.
Everyone can identify with a fragrant garden, with beauty of sunset, with the quiet of nature, with a warm and cozy cottage.
I do have a bit of a garden, and I’d love a hovercraft to get around it – one of the big four-seater ones with the fan on the back.
We were brought up with having a love of your garden, having somewhere you can go in, it’s your little sanctuary, you can go there and you can switch off.
