Twelve-year-old Estere Ciccone fiddled with a small control board in a big room at the Museum of Arts and Design, preparing for the museum’s annual gala and the opening of an exhibit called “Barbie: A Cultural Icon.” Her navy polo, gaucho shorts, and makeup-free face evoked an innocent schoolgirl. But her glittery, earmuff-size headphones were, in the parlance, giving global glamour.
“Right now, she’s checking out her mixes and deciding on her cue points and transitions,” Mary Mac, Ciccone’s d.j. mentor (real name: Maryse Pierre-Antoine), said, watching her charge. “She’s my best student and already showing me stuff.” Ciccone is one of Madonna’s six children, and under her d.j. name, Queen Estere, she has just released, on SoundCloud, a raunchy dance track called “I’ll Tech House U Mix.” “A d.j. has to keep up with the latest music and dance moves,” Pierre-Antoine said, “and at twelve she already knows it all.”
Pierre-Antoine, who is fifty-two, has been Madonna’s personal d.j. for more than a decade, since the pop star heard her at an Adidas store. She warms up audiences before concerts and gets crowds dancing at after-parties. In New York, she has a residency at Henrietta Hudson, a lesbian bar in the West Village. She grew up in the area as the basketball-playing daughter of Haitian immigrants. “My mother still asks if I’m making money, and is the work steady,” she said. Queen Estere’s mother, on the other hand, actively promotes her daughter’s avocation with posts on Instagram. She also featured Queen Estere in the recent “Celebration” tour, in which the girl vogued in a black-and-yellow catsuit and thigh-high stiletto boots. Then she d.j.’d onstage, in front of her mother’s fans.
“I definitely felt something up there,” Ciccone said in a soft voice, as she finished cuing up for the gala. “But when you do a lot of shows you get used to it.” She likes being a d.j., she said, “because you really don’t need anyone else. You just need to keep doing it.”
Ciccone was adopted from Malawi and, last month, was bat mitzvahed along with her twin sister, Stella. At the museum, a phalanx of protective handlers (including a nanny and a family entourage) hovered to make sure she didn’t say too much, citing privacy concerns. But she did get a chance to say that it was nice to work at the museum, even though Barbie isn’t her thing. “The movie was O.K. for younger kids, not me,” she said. She had to go change for the pink-themed party. “But I’m not wearing pink,” she said. “I’m wearing black.” Last question: Was she a fan of Taylor Swift? “I like Billie Eilish and Charli XCX,” she said.
Downstairs, in the exhibition hall, word had got out about Queen Estere’s presence. It was unclear whether her mother would show up, although the security staff was ready to manage a back-entrance arrival.
“This opening is a very good gig for a twelve-year-old d.j.,” Robert Best, a Mattel executive and the evening’s honoree, said. He wore a pink velvet Paul Smith tuxedo. “I admire any kid with the presence of mind to know herself so young.”
“When I was twelve, I wanted to be thirteen,” Beau McCall, an artist known for his use of upcycled buttons, said. “I wanted to be a teen-ager, but when I became one nothing happened.”
Later, when Queen Estere did her set, her mother wasn’t in the house, but Pierre-Antoine played the stage-mother role. “She’s twelve years old, and I’m gonna take my credit!” she yelled to the crowd. “Give it up for Queen Estere! She wants you to show her some love tonight!” The pinked-out intergenerational mob cheered while Ciccone, with the concentration of a child doing some very engaging schoolwork, focussed on her console, occasionally leaning over to ask Pierre-Antoine a question.
“Everyone is dancing, so just go for it,” she told the girl. Peggy Gou, Crystal Waters, and Diplo tracks kept the guests bumping and grinding.
“I guess she comes to this music naturally,” Marilyn Eiges, an octogenarian museum docent, said from the dance floor. She tried to remember what being so young felt like. “All I know is that, when I was twelve, I wanted Fred Astaire to swirl into my living room to dance with me,” she said. Moments later, at around ten o’clock, Queen Estere was being hustled out by her posse. Mary Mac would keep the dancing going with Madonna’s “Into the Groove,” among others on her playlist.
“Love you, Mary Mac! See you Friday,” Ciccone said, waving.
It was a school week, with d.j. lessons, piano lessons, and homework in the mix. ♦
