By Jacob Katel
By Laurie Charles
By Nate "Igor" Smith
By Abel Folgar
By Kat Bein
By Jacob Katel
It all started with a dress. A white dress with black polka dots and red trim. Crinoline skirt. Red belt. Red shoes. Like Minnie Mouse wears. Only this is TMarie,at age six. She is competing for Tiny Miss Miami 1994. Her hair is pulled back in a poof. Her black eyes are enormous. She is singing "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" -- by Connie.
"You know Connie, from Sábado Gigante," says TMarie, age thirteen.
Her mother walks into the conference room and corrects her: "Cyndi Lauper sang that song, honey." Then she tells the reporter: "Connie was the first little girl star on Sábado Gigante. She used to be on the show all the time, singing “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.'"
TMarie is not interested in Cyndi Lauper. She continues her story: "I told my mom that if she bought me that dress, I would sing “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,' like Connie."
"Back then $110 was not cheap," explains her mother, who manages the office for TMarie's developer dad, Luis Rodriguez, until the end of the school day.
"And then she runs her second business" -- her daughter beams -- "TMarie."
"She told me: “Your daughter is so beautiful,'" remembers Mama Rodriguez, "and I thought sure, she's a kid. All kids are beautiful. But Tiffany wanted to be in the pageant." She laughs. "She leads me."
At four and a half years old, TMarie lost Mini Miss Miami. She refused to walk with a boy.
"I hated boys," she shrugs.
"But she never forgot," says her mother. "One of the judges came over and told her: “You did really well, but you didn't follow the rules. You can't cut corners. Whatever you do in life, you can't cut any corners.'"
She never lost again: TMarie took Miss Iberoamericana and Miss Southern Charm in 1993; Tiny Miss Miami in 1994; Little Miss Malibu in 1995; and Young Junior Miss Hialeah in 1996. To say nothing of all the first-place prizes in drama and singing competitions in between.
"I was a finalist for Selena as a little girl in the Selena movie," she says, her dark skin and mestiza features bearing strong resemblance to the slain Tejana star, "but I guess they wanted someone else."
Just under four feet eleven and weighing 90 pounds, TMarie is dwarfed by the unpacked boxes, framed celebrity photographs, and massive Chinese urns strewn about the new Miami Lakes offices of KC Productions, named for Sunshine Band leader Harry Casey. The Boogie Man is on the road, as he has been 200 days a year since coming out of retirement eight years ago. He talks about his protégée over the phone. "I sent the troops out looking for a young girl, and they found Tiffany," says KC. "It just seems to be the way things are going today. I wanted someone that we could kind of groom and be a part of the process of helping her reach her dreams. I've had mucho success; now I have the time to help someone else."
TMarie is scheduled to open for Albita and Nil Lara tonight, but the weather is not cooperating. Thunder rumbles.
"Okaaaay," she says to herself, wiggling her ponytail, "it's not a pretty day."
Her mother is in another room talking to artist-development man Lee Gatch, the soldier who discovered TMarie performing on Fourth of July 2000 at Hialeah's Milander Park. He scheduled the young singer's interview for a Saturday morning, he says, "because, you know, she's in school."
And dance class. And voice class. And acting lessons. Or in the studio. Or onstage.
TMarie has shown up in national commercials for JC Penney and Kmart. Like her idol Connie, she has appeared frequently on Sábado Gigante and a host of other shows on Spanish- and English-language television. She sings at festivals from the Hollywood Spring Jamboree to Calle Ocho. Backed by her fourteen- and fifteen-year-old male dancers at Radio Disney shows and the recent Y-100 Wing Ding, she breezes through Latin-tinged jazz routines set to the songs she is recording for KC Productions. She executes the pivot turns, grapevines, and splits as easily as she tosses her hair.
But in her spare time, TMarie says, she likes to design clothes.
"I design all my own costumes and do my own hair," she says, leaning in close and taking a deep breath. "That's what I love: hair, clothes, dancing, singing." She punctuates each passion by thrusting her open palms into the air. "I'm going to be Barbie for Halloween, because everyone else is going to be a cheerleader. I'm going to be Generation Barbie, because she's the only Barbie who wears low-cut pants. Everyone else is wearing those short skirts that split on the side," she shifts in her chair and draws an imaginary line on her thigh. "I'm a trendsetter. I like to wear shirts that show my stomach and low-cut pants."
This is a problem, because next week is no-uniform week at M.A. Milam K-8 Center in Hialeah and the rules state clearly that there are to be no bare midriffs and no spaghetti straps.