_______M   A   R   T   H   A     S   T   E   W   A   R   T
made home cooking and flea market scavenging chic. Then she took it to the extreme.

BY MARY ELIZABETH WILLIAMS | We might as well face it now -- we will never be as good as Martha. Martha. Her plain, two-syllable first name alone inspires hushed awe and profound feelings of inadequacy. But if it's any consolation, we'll never be as bad as Martha either. That same simple name is also shorthand for an unflattering excessive fussiness, a devotion to the trivial and the twee. For Martha Stewart is nothing if not contradictory -- a role model and a cautionary tale, a business titan and the embodiment of retro, back-to-the-kitchen femininity. She's the apotheosis of easy, tasteful living who's also a pitchwoman for Kmart, the smiling hostess and the tyrannical taskmaster. And while the multiple parts she plays and the emotions she elicits may at first seem as confusing as a recipe for roasted venison with pomegranate sauce, they also, in typical Martha fashion, make perfect sense. Because Martha Stewart, you should know by now, is legion.

She is the girl next door. The blond, WASPy Connecticut lady who lunches occupies the same body as Polish-Catholic Martha Kostyra of Nutley, N.J. She was born in 1941, when the Depression was still a fresh memory, the second of six in a family unencumbered by an abundance of either affection or wealth. Her parents were by all accounts strict and disciplined -- personality traits that may not have allowed their progeny to develop much warmth or free-spiritedness, but did give Martha her iron backbone and a superhuman work ethic.

The talents she honed under their tutelage -- gardening, sewing, cooking -- were not idle weekend diversions but practical necessities for making ends meet. That may be why Martha's particular brand of domestic enthusiasm is so compelling: It seems so deeply felt. A woman who made her own dresses throughout high school understands not just the pride of craftsmanship but the importance of doing the job right the first time. What fuels both the devotion of her acolytes and the derision of her critics is the earnest respect she gives to the home arts. To anyone who's ever felt dissed for toiling in the domestic sphere, Martha is the Ginsu-wielding action hero who tells the world to stuff it with bread crumbs and stick it in the southern exposure.

Her bootstrap success is the great American dream come true. As she grew up and outgrew Nutley, she shed her Jersey accent, studied art history at Barnard College and traded her ethnic name for her blander married one. But she also cleverly wove her modest origins and her family ties into her public persona, recruiting Mom to concoct Polish delicacies for her TV show or reminiscing about the little house on Elm Place in her magazine. All those years of decorating have served her well -- she's an expert on what to keep and what to pitch. She knows how to walk with kings but never lose her common touch.

She's a cover girl. While still a teenager, Martha embarked on her first career, as a New York fashion model. Tall, angular and pleasingly all-American, she wasn't supermodel material, but she was stylish and looked good in front of a camera. Years later, when her beauty had settled into a comfortable suburban chic, she made the natural transition to television personality and the face of her own magazine. In photos or in person, she is poised and graceful, unflustered by whatever task is in front of her. For all her recipes, tips and advice, the main thing that Martha offers to her public is herself, her cool, well-assembled exterior. Could a woman who was herself not so attractive be so convincing as the spokesperson of beautiful living? Maybe. But as likely as a box of Tuna Helper in a niçoise salad.

N E X T_ P A G E .|. Another gear in the machine that would become Martha Inc.

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