The Most Beautiful: My Life with Prince

He’d go up a third—“ No, you’re not”—and then go higher and higher—“ No, you’re not, no, you’re not”—until we were both laughing.

While all this was going on, work went on as usual at Paisley Park, including my album project Child of the Sun. This wasn’t something I asked to be involved in. It came about because of a show we had done in Spain the year before. After a long, crazy concert of amazing songs, dances, and love, he was preparing for the encore while I went out and worked the crowd, tossing out tambourines and saying hi to fans. They started chanting, “Mayte! Mayte! Mayte!” and they didn’t stop, even when he came back out onstage. After a minute or so, looked at them, looked at me, and then leaned in to shout over the noise.

“You need to do an album.”

“No, I don’t,” I shouted back.

“You’re doing an album.”

That was the whole discussion. Within weeks, it was in the works. I loved him all the more for being so supportive, but my calling was to dance, and as I evolved as an artist, I was getting more and more interested in directing and editing—which strikes me as a very natural progression, because it’s all about rhythm and motion and technical precision. Just like dance, it transforms the emotional into the visual.

The album, Child of the Sun, was released by NPG in Europe later that year. It was actually a lot of fun. We did a duet, “However Much U Want,” which was the first song I ever sang in the studio and was written with me in mind. I did a gender-bend version of “The Most Beautiful Girl in the World”—“The Most Beautiful Boy in the World”—and he came in to put a new spin on the Commodores’ “Brick House.” The cover has me in full-on golden Egyptian goddess mode, though we didn’t discover the hidden significance of the title track, “Children of the Sun,” until years later.

Just before the album dropped, he wrote to me:

Dearest Darling,

’m listening 2 a re-mastered version of your album. It’s deeper and louder. Much better. Kirk did it in L.A. U have the cutest voice! It’s your album now. Anything u don’t like or wanna fix u can. ’ll give u the $$. Forgive me 4 being so distant, ’m just burnt on the studio & the routine of record-making. 16 years of it, guess. ’m ready 4 a change—World tour, new clothes, new money, hairstyle, car, house. ’m ready 2 be . ’m sure u understand.

Every rain storm passes. Every earthquake stops. Every night brings morning. Please don’t ever doubt my love 4 u. love u with my soul! No one has ever or will ever get close 2 my soul the way u have. Other women want my babies. just find it funny! My future’s all arranged. If they’re not your babies, ain’t havin’ none! wouldn’t want ’em. ’cuz they were never supposed 2 be here! Patience is a virtue. trust God with everything now. Even u. If u stay with me, it’s because ( believe) he wants me 2 be married (a huge extravagant wedding) and have 2 angels for him…



He put together a beautiful program to hand out at the wedding and included some of the things I’d said in the hypnotic state. He wanted to share a few of the little coincidences and parallels that made us smile. There was the unlikely way we met; he never, never took random tapes from people and immediately watched them like that. There was the prophetic little joke he made to Rosie, and how both our fathers are named John. My mother, Nelly, and his middle name Nelson—Nel’s son. His mother, Mattie, so close to Mayte. When I met John Nelson, we stood in his kitchen, and he told me that I reminded him of Prince’s mother. I told him that my birthday is November 12, just one day off from hers, and he grunted out a brusque, “Damn it. Of course.”

After a few years, the coincidences began to feel more like fate.

He asked me to marry him on July 25, 1995, while I was in Barcelona. I didn’t connect the dots until Daddy showed me a ticket stub and pointed it out to me that the first time Prince and I saw each other was at the concert in Barcelona on July 25, 1990. Another moment of fate and coincidence that took our breath away for a moment.

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