Iman, the widow of legendary musician David Bowie, is known for her privacy, especially when it comes to their only daughter, Lexi Jones. But in a rare and candid moment, the supermodel recently opened up about 23-year-old Lexi, whom fans say is the spitting image of her famous father, sharing his iconic eyes.
Former supermodel, Iman, seldom talks about her 23-year-old daughter with late music icon, David Bowie in interviews. However, in a recent interview, she made a rare comment that gave fans a glimpse into who Lexi is and what she loves to do.
During a sit-down with Instyle, she shared how the COVID-19 pandemic sparked a newfound passion that she now shares with her daughter.
She revealed, “I was at my upstate house and I was by myself. So I started painting. My husband was a painter. My daughter is a painter. I have never painted. And I started painting.”
Though Iman values her privacy, she occasionally shares glimpses of Lexi Jones on social media. In addition to sharing sneak peeks into Lexi’s passions, she also celebrates her publicly, especially on her birthdays.
In August 2023, she posted a heartfelt video compilation celebrating Lexi’s 23rd birthday, accompanied by the caption, “Happy Birthday, Little Wonder. God blessed us with the greatest gift: You!”
Fans celebrated Lexi, and also quickly noted Lexi’s beauty and striking resemblance to Bowie. One commenter said, “Happy belated birthday, Dad’s twin.” Another gushed, “She’s so gorgeous it’s unbelievable!!”
Previously, the supermodel and entrepreneur posted a photo showcasing Lexi’s large, expressive eyes dark hair, and well-defined eyebrows. Her caption read, “Happy Birthday, my heart, my pride, my love, my angel, my Lexi! I’m proud to call myself your mommy.”
Fans were again amazed by her resemblance to the late legendary singer. One remarked, “Her Dad’s twin,” and another added, “Incredible her expressions, her laugh, the way she lowers her eyes …incredible ..like her dad.”
Lexi Jones, from a post dated August 15, 2023 | Source: Instagram/the_real_iman
Like her mom, Lexi is selective about what she shares online, but when she does post photos, they often highlight her distinctive features. A recent photo showcased her vivid green eyes, which were especially striking against her dark, full eyebrows.
Her long lashes enhanced the impact of her gaze. Her dark hair, styled with bangs, framed her face, while the rest was pulled back, drawing even more attention to her facial structure. One fan noted, “Daddy’s eyes [sic].”
While fans marveled at Lexi’s resemblance to her father, Iman shared touching memories of her late husband in the interview, emphasizing his never-ending presence in her life.
She recounted a story from their early days together, “My husband, the first week we met, we were walking down the street and my shoelaces came undone, and he got to his knees and tied [them up]. That is my perfect person.”
She stressed that Bowie was still her husband, saying, “When people say, ‘your late husband,’ I always correct them. He is my husband, not my late husband. He was the perfect person for me and I’m happy that I was able to experience that in my lifetime.”
When David Bowie was alive, the family led a relatively normal life despite their celebrity status. Iman cooked dinner every night, and they both ensured Lexi had a grounded upbringing. Bowie cherished the time spent playing music with Lexi, who inherited her parents’ artistic talents.
Bowie once said of his wife, Iman, “She’s uncanny at keeping the business at her office and the woman at home. But she’s a mom 24/7.”
Bowie passed away over eight years ago, but Iman continues to commemorate his life. She marked the 8th year since her husband’s passing with a touching post on Instagram on January 10, 2024. The tribute reflected the eternal bond shared between the renowned couple while showing fans a glimpse into Iman’s artistic side.
Her post featured a black-and-white canvas drawing of what appeared to be a person with wings. Although she did not further explain her share, Iman wrote a few sweet words alongside her post.
“Eternal Love,” she captioned the post with the hashtag “#BowieForever.” Several of Iman’s fans and followers expressed their admiration for her artwork and kind words about her love story with Bowie.
Iman’s Instagram share follows another post that commemorated Bowie’s life. On his birthday on January 8, 2024, she shared the same hashtag along with a captivating photograph, celebrating the enduring spirit of her late husband.
Bowie passed away on January 10, 2016, after an 18-month-long battle with cancer. His official Facebook page announced the tragic news but gave fans comfort knowing that the artist died surrounded by his family.
Iman has spoken about her husband since his passing, revealing that she would never tie the knot again. Although Bowie is no longer physically with her, he was, is, and will always be her husband.
“I definitely feel his presence, especially when I look out over the glorious sunsets at our home because David loves sunsets,” she said. “So, in that way, he is ever-present. Through my memory, my love lives.”
The couple, who met through a blind date, fell in love immediately. “David said it was love at first sight,” Iman said. Their enduring love story has since been admired by many.
Although they chose to keep their relationship private, the goodness they brought to each other manifested internally. “If David was not in my life, I don’t know if I would have had the courage to start Iman Cosmetics,” Iman disclosed.
Iman and David Bowie’s home became a reminder of their love and saved her from the pain and heartbreak of losing him. Although many years have passed, she still pays tribute to him in more ways than one.
After I restored the motorcycle my father had gifted me, he took it back — so I found a way to get my revenge
I caught them effortlessly, but I was confused.
“What’s this for?” I asked. They didn’t look like car keys, and I already had my mom’s old car anyway.
My dad nodded toward a dusty tarp in the corner of the garage. It had been there for as long as I could remember, covering up something that I was told not to touch.
When I pulled the tarp off, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was my dad’s old Harley, a ’73 Shovelhead. It was the stuff of my childhood dreams, the bike that had always seemed just out of reach.
All I had wanted to do when I was younger was steal my dad’s leather jacket and sit on the motorcycle. But he always shouted at me whenever I tried to touch it.
“If there’s one scratch on it, Seth,” he would say, “I’ll take all your spending money away.”
That was enough to keep me away from the dream bike.
“You’re giving me the Harley?” I asked, my voice a mix of disbelief and excitement.
My father shrugged it off like it was nothing.
“Yeah, why not, son?” he declared. “It hasn’t run in years, to be honest, so good luck with that. Consider it a late birthday gift, Seth.”
I could barely believe it.
I was finally going to ride that bike, and feel the engine roaring beneath me, the wind in my hair. It was going to be everything I had dreamt of and more. I was finally going to be like my dad.
I ran my hand over the cracked leather seat, taking in the gift.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I promise I’ll take good care of her.”
The moment those keys were in my hand, that motorcycle became my new obsession.
“Jeez, son,” the mechanic said when I took the Harley over in a friend’s old pickup truck. “There’s a lot to be done here. But I can do the big things for you, and you’ll be able to sort out the smaller things if you’re confident enough.”
I saved every penny from my barista role at the café. I was extra polite to all my customers, hoping for large tips, ready to go straight into the motorcycle restoration fund.
Soon, my nights, weekends, and any and all free time I had were spent outside with the motorcycle. I tore it down and put it back together, better than ever, restoring old parts. I watched countless YouTube tutorials and read every manual I could find.
“What are you doing now?” my roommate, Brett, asked when I was hunched over my laptop on the couch.
“I’m looking at forums online for tips about the motorcycle,” I said.
“That’s all you do these days, buddy,” he said, chuckling.
Fourteen months later, the day finally came. I polished the last piece of chrome, stood back, and admired my work. The Harley gleamed under the garage lights, looking like it had just rolled off the assembly line.
“Good job, Seth,” I muttered to myself.
I could hardly contain my excitement as I thought about showing it to my parents, especially my dad. I imagined the pride on his face, the way his eyes would light up when he saw what I’d done.
I hoped that he would finally be proud of something I had done. But nothing prepared me for what was to come next.
I rode it over to my parents’ house, the engine purring beneath my legs like a big cat. As I parked in the driveway, I felt a rush of nerves. I hadn’t felt this anxious since I was waiting for my acceptance letter for college.
“Mom? Dad?” I called, walking into the hallway.
“We’re in the kitchen,” my mom called.
I walked into the kitchen, and there they were. My dad was drinking a cup of tea, and Mom was busy putting together a lasagna.
“I’ve got something to show you!” I said. “It’s outside.”
They followed me outside, their eyes going wide when they saw the motorcycle.
“Oh my gosh, Seth,” my dad exclaimed. “Is that the Harley? My old Harley? She looks beautiful!”
“Yes,” I said, grinning. “I’ve spent the last year working on it. What do you think?”
Before they could answer, my dad moved closer to the motorcycle. His eyes narrowed as he took it in. He ran his hands along the chrome as though he couldn’t believe his own eyes.
“You did all this?” he asked, his voice tight.
“I did!” I said, beaming proudly. “Every spare moment and extra cash went into this project. And now she’s perfect.”
For a second, I thought I saw pride flicker in his eyes, but then his expression changed. His face darkened, and I felt something change in me.
“You know, Seth,” he said slowly, “this bike is worth a hell of a lot more now. I think I was too generous when I gave it to you.”
I blinked, not understanding.
“What do you mean, Dad?”
My father cleared his throat, not meeting my eyes.
“I’m going to take it back,” he said, his tone final. “And I’ll give you $1,000 for your trouble.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, barely containing my anger.
He nodded.
“It’s only fair, Seth.”
I wanted to yell, to tell him how unfair he was being, how much time and money I’d poured into that bike. But I knew that arguing wouldn’t get me anywhere. My father was too stubborn.
“Sure,” I said. “Whatever you think is fair.”
He looked surprised that I didn’t fight him on it, but I wasn’t done with my revenge. If he wanted to play dirty, then fine. I could play that game too. I just needed to be smarter about it.
A few days later, I saw my father posting on social media about his “newly restored” motorcycle and that he was taking the Harley to an upcoming bike meet with his old biking buddies.
“Now it’s on,” I said to myself.
When the day of the meet arrived, I watched from a distance as my father rolled up on the Harley, looking every bit the proud owner of a beautiful bike. He revved the engine, drawing the attention of everyone in the parking lot.
But what he didn’t know was that I’d made a little modification of my own.
Under the seat, I’d installed a small switch—it was nothing fancy. But it was a precaution in case the Harley was ever stolen. The switch, when accessed, would cut off the fuel line with a quick flick of the remote, which was firmly planted in my hand.
I waited until he was right in the middle of the crowd, basking in the admiration, and then, from a distance, I pressed the button.
The Harley sputtered, the engine dying with a weak cough. Soon, my father’s smug grin disappeared as he tried to restart it, but the engine wouldn’t give.
The murmurs began, making their way through the crowd, and a few of his buddies laughed under their breath.
“Need a hand, Dad?” I asked when I made my way over to him.
He glared at me, but I could see the desperation in his eyes. He nodded, too embarrassed to say anything. I knelt down, pretending to fiddle with the bike for a moment before “fixing” the problem by turning off the switch.
The engine roared back to life, but by then, the damage was done.
The look of embarrassment on my dad’s face was worth every second of the work I had put into the Harley.
He handed me the keys, his jaw clenched tightly.
“It’s yours,” he said, walking away.
I smiled, knowing the Harley was mine, and so was my father’s respect, even if he couldn’t say it.
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