Beverly Jami (left), says of her model daughter Dereka Hendon: "It was hard to turn her into a young lady." Early on, Karen Baca (right), had an inkling that her daughter Candace might become a hairstylist. Former fitness champ Jodi Fonfa makes fitness fun for daughter Haley. Photos by Christine H. Wetzel.

The things we inherit from our mothers have a MasterCard type of pricelessness to them. Your first hope chest; the pearls her own mother gave her; not to mention the china you only pull out on special occasions. As sentimental as these items can be, our mothers also give us something intangible that we carry with us everywhere: a sense of style.

Whether it's her fondness for footwear, the way she gets her hair so shiny or how she manages to keep her shoulders so defined -- there's no doubt you've picked up something from Mom along the way.

We talked to three pairs of local mothers and daughters in the fashion, fitness and hair industry. Each has a unique story about how their relationships have influenced their lives.

GIRLS WILL BE TOMBOYS

One look at Dereka Hendon and it's clear you've encountered that freakishly-rare, DNA-blessed creature also known as a model. Standing six feet tall, the graceful Hendon also possesses a final feature that instantly puts her with the Tyra's and Gisele's of the world: beauty. At 34, she is well-acquainted with the world of fashion (her modeling career began when she was "five or six"), but admits it's been a love-hate relationship. It all started with modeling classes.

"My mom wanted me to be a little lady," Hendon said. "But to me, it was torture."

For her mother, Beverly Jami, Hendon's contempt for modeling was equally torturous. A model herself, Jami had big hopes for Hendon that included a runway, bright lights and beautiful clothes. Specifically, she wanted Hendon to one day be in Ebony Fashion Fair, the largest traveling fashion show there is.

Jami tried early on to incorporate fashion into Hendon's life, by buying her a rabbit fur coat while she was still in grade school.

"She hated it," Jami said. "I just wanted her to be fashionable."

As the years passed, Hendon developed an interest in basketball and, in her mom's words, "was a star." Jami was supportive of her daughter's athletic prowess -- often yelling from the stands "That's my womb!" whenever Hendon did something particularly impressive. This enthusiasm was cut short when Hendon's style became heavily influenced by her basketball uniform. "If there was anything I hated," Jami said, "it was those sweats and gym shirts." Especially since Jami had ingrained one rule in Hendon: "Whenever you walk out that door, you look your best."

It took years for Hendon to warm up to the modeling industry. But when she was in her mid-20s, she came home with news that was the equivalent of acceptance to Harvard Law for most other parents.

"I have something to tell you," she told Jami. "I was chosen to be an Ebony Fashion Fair model." After her mother recovered, Hendon added, "Please don't yell 'That's my womb!' from the audience."

Today, Jami says, "It was hard to turn her into a young lady. I'm amazed at how she turned out."

IF YOU'RE NOT FIT, YOU MUST NOT QUIT

Jodi Fonfa is 42-years-old with three children, but she's in better physical shape than most high-school cheerleaders. She has worked as Sharon Stone's personal trainer; held the title of Miss National Fitness Champion; and most recently, reports daily to her office at 24 Hour Fitness, where she's a master instructor.

Though Fonfa looks like she should be on the cover of Muscle & Fitness magazine, she's not the type of mother who wakes her children up to the sound of a trumpet, requesting that they give her 20.

"It's about keeping a healthy attitude," she said. "I just want them to have fun and enjoy life without taking it so seriously."

Fonfa's nine-year-old daughter, Haley, manages to do just that through dance. "(Dance) makes me feel really cool," Haley said. "And it's really fun."

A member of two competitive dance teams, Haley practices for nine hours each week, and also spends additional time working on her moves.

"When I'm working on choreography, she'll come in and do the dancing with me," Fonfa said. "She has her opinions too. She'll tell me what (moves) she thinks should go where."

For the most part, though, it's Haley taking cues from her mom. "She's really nice and she teaches me a lot of stuff about dancing," she said.

Fonfa also teaches her how a healthy body can impact your life. "I try and make (fitness) more about health, rather than looking a certain way," Fonfa said. "A healthy lifestyle is a choice. It's not something you do to fit into a dress."

HAIR IT IS

Candace Baca grew up hearing women spill their guts over piles of hair on the floor. Her mother, Karen Baca, managed a few of the swankiest hair salons in L.A., and Candace came to know the salon life as an extension of home life.

Like a lot of young girls, Candace decided Barbie needed a bob. Unlike a lot of young girls, she also decided her little brother needed a buzzcut.

"He was left with a bald circle," recalled Karen. "We had to shave the whole thing."

The story of when big sis wanted to help out little brother carries special significance, considering Candace's current profession as a haisrtylist and dreadlock specialist at Curl Up N Dye. She may not have known she'd grow up to do the same thing the fancy ladies in her mom's salons did, but Karen had an idea.

"I remember when (Candace) did an updo for my niece, the girl next door came over and said, 'The (updo) I got for my wedding wasn't nearly as good as that one, and I paid for mine.' She had it early on," Karen said.

But the only thing the 21-year-old Candace remembers having early on was the hairful of braids Karen gave her for special Tahitian dance performances. "She'd pull the little hairs and her nails would get caught," Candace said. "But when you took them all out, it would be really, really boofy."

Her dance performances -- and the special 'do that went with them -- went over fine in grade school, but the security at her high school wasn't going for it.

Karen remembers getting a phone call that Candace was in violation of the school dress code. Either she could pick her up from school or Candace could take out the braids. Candace was to perform at UNLV later that night and non-boofy hair simply wouldn't do. To Karen, the decision was easy. "I picked her up for dress code. A bad hair day is just a bad day."

With her experimental approach to her own hair, there isn't a color or style too bold for Candace, and Karen admires her for that.

"Whatever you want to call them -- hairdressers, stylists," Karen said. "They're artists. My baby girl is an artist."