If you grew up in St. Louis anytime between the late seventies and the early 2000s, you didn't just know the Gateway Arch. You knew the woman who flew over it on a magic rug.
Becky Rothman, better known to every soul in the 314 area code as the Becky Queen of Carpet, was more than a local business owner. She was a fever dream in a crown. Seeing her glide across the TV screen in a bright gown, often accompanied by Wanda, the Princess of Tile, was a rite of passage for local kids. It was weird. It was campy. Honestly, it was brilliant marketing.
But then, the commercials stopped. The stores closed. And for a long time, people wondered where she went.
The Rise of a Local Legend
Becky didn't just wake up one day and decide to be royalty. It started with a family business. Becky’s Carpet & Tile Superstore became a household name because Becky Rothman understood something most corporate CEOs don't: people want to be entertained, even when they’re buying linoleum.
The "hook" was simple. She wore a tiara. She sat on a carpet suspended by visible wires (or chroma-keyed into the sky). She promised "rich man's carpet at a working man's price."
✨ Don't miss: Ainsley Earhardt in Bikini: Why Fans Are Actually Searching for It
It worked. At its peak, the business had five locations across the St. Louis region, including a massive presence in Manchester, Missouri. She wasn't just a face on a billboard; she was a celebrity. People would stop her at the grocery store for autographs. She even had a brief, bizarre "feud" with adult film star Ron Jeremy after he parodied her commercials for a local adult boutique. She wasn't having it. She reportedly went after the stations to get the parody pulled. You don't mess with the Queen's brand.
Why the Magic Carpet Landed
By 2012, the reign was over. The stores shuttered their doors for good.
Why? It wasn't just one thing. It was a "perfect storm" of the Great Recession hitting the housing market and the rise of big-box retailers like Home Depot and Lowe’s. Small, personality-driven chains were getting squeezed out.
Becky Rothman didn't just disappear into a quiet retirement, though. Life got heavy. That same year the business closed, she was diagnosed with kidney disease.
🔗 Read more: Why the Jordan Is My Lawyer Bikini Still Breaks the Internet
For the next decade, she fought. She spent years on dialysis. Those who saw her out in public—maybe at a concert at Off Broadway or grabbing dinner—remarked on two things. First, she had lost a significant amount of weight following surgery in the early 2000s. Second, she was still incredibly kind. She’d take selfies with anyone. She’d give out hugs like they were free samples.
The Final Chapter
Becky Rothman passed away on May 28, 2023, at the age of 67.
Her death hit St. Louis hard. It felt like a piece of the city’s collective childhood had been deleted. She died from complications related to her long battle with renal failure. Even toward the end, she was active in the community, participating in the St. Louis Kidney Walk and raising thousands of dollars for the National Kidney Foundation.
Her legacy didn't just die with her, though. In late 2023, her daughter, Rachel Reynolds, organized an auction of Becky’s designer clothes and, yes, some of her famous costumes. The proceeds went to Dress for Success Midwest, a move that felt very "Becky"—using her larger-than-life persona to help other women get a head start in the professional world.
💡 You might also like: Pat Lalama Journalist Age: Why Experience Still Rules the Newsroom
What We Can Learn From the Queen
Becky Rothman's story isn't just about floor coverings. It's about the power of authentic, albeit slightly ridiculous, local branding.
- Don't be afraid of the "gimmick." Most people are too scared to look silly. Becky leaned into it and built an empire.
- Adaptability matters. Even when the business closed, she refocused her energy on charity and family.
- Community is currency. The reason people mourned her wasn't because they loved her prices—it was because she felt like a neighbor who happened to own a crown.
If you’re looking to honor her memory today, the best way is to support local St. Louis businesses or donate to the National Kidney Foundation. Her commercials might be grainy YouTube relics now, but the impact she had on local marketing and the St. Louis spirit remains "unbeatable."
To truly appreciate the era of the local celebrity, take a deep dive into the archives of St. Louis media history. Watch the original 1990s spots to see the production value that defined an era, and consider how local personalities today are struggling to replicate that same level of organic, "weird" charm in a world of polished social media influencers.