Educated in cultural theory at Columbia University and art history at New York University, Sarah Hoover began her career as an art dealer, liaison, and director at Gagosian, before meeting her husband, artist Tom Sachs. Soon after came two children, and what followed was upheaval—which she then turned into re-invention. Through essays on postpartum depression and a new memoir, The Motherload: Episodes from the Brink of Motherhood, Hoover has emerged as a leading voice on the subject. In time for Mother’s Day, the writer shares her key components to the good life. —Carolina de Armas
Airline: I dream of one where flight attendants feel empowered to tell men to keep their shoes and socks on, especially en route to the bathroom. In the meantime, I fly Delta One, if I can.
Airport: Munich, where everything is always on time.
Alibi: “I was receiving a Pulitzer while posing for Avedon. How could I have also murdered each of the men who wronged me between the ages of 18 and 23?”
App: The one that blocks all the other apps is onto something good.
BabIES: My own, Guy and Fred. No notes.
Bag: Prada Re-Nylon Re-Edition Saffiano. Comes in a million colors. Indestructible material. Fits my phone and the spare battery.
Bedtime: 10:30 p.m., after 30 minutes of reading a novel I don’t want to put down, which gives me wild dreams.
Bike: One with way more ass cushion than anything I’ve ever tried, though my baby-blue vintage Schwinn with rainbow streamers on the handlebars is cute as hell.
Birthday: Late-June birthday parties are the best parties.
Boyfriend/girlfriend: Loyal with highly developed listening skills.
Breakfast, weekday: Hard-boiled eggs, hot sauce, flake salt, ripe avocado, arugula, olive oil, and fresh orange juice.
Breakfast, weekend: Cheesy omelette and my mom’s cinnamon toast.
Car: I am unlicensed with no wish to amend that status, so one with butt warmers where someone else is driving me.
