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The fashion runway had suds on it
By Deborah Taylor-Hollis
Ah, spring. The smell of rotting eggs lost from the hunt in the yard, the sounds of a thousand weekend warriors pulling out their gas mowers at 7 a.m. on your one day to sleep in, the feel of cotton (yeah, they stole it from me) and the public pressure to be--deep breath--in fashion.
After another whole year of living in the mom outfit (black stretch slacks that hide the cellulite, oversized knit sweater that doesn't need a bra, canvas slip-ons that don't need socks, hair in a bun), I have to face the dreaded Spring Fashions.
I thought I was pretty savvy about this stuff--no white shoes before Easter, no stripes with plaids, don't wear red with pink, and deodorant is not a perfume. Men cannot ever wear white shoes unless they make over $800,000 a year (then they can wear whatever they darned well want) and plastic pocket protectors are still out.
Every year I go out and get a new spring wardrobe. This year was no exception. In February I ordered two new pairs of black stretch pants from JC Penney, then went to Payless Shoe Source and bought two new pairs of canvas slip-ons--one in oatmeal (the oh-so-hot color of last season) and one in white.
To top off my yearly spring wardrobe update I bought myself a new spring bonnet--a cute little straw hat that, with my hair down, reminds me of one of those sepia-tone prints hanging in the bathrooms of your better restaurants.
I bought my hat at the car wash, which is where I've bought all my hats for the last eight years, as well as a Halloween throw blanket, several candles and an evening gown. I find that multitasking the shopping with degreasing the car is a real timesaver.
I thought that buying the hat ended my spring shopping requirements. I was wrong. One of the morning shows had their "casual styles for kids" spring wardrobe fashion show this week, and I felt crushed.
I thought that a spring wardrobe for my son consisted of cutting off the legs of his pants. His sneakers automatically become sandals when the toes wear out around April. How hard could it be?
Well, Christine Schwab, the editor for Redbook magazine who put on this show, sure made me feel out of the kiddie fashion loop. There were 3-year-olds in name brand Reebok tennis dresses with matching shoes ("because kids like to dress like athletes"), 4-year-old boys in khaki cargo pants from Lands End ("with the untucked shirt look"), and 5-year-olds with kerchiefs on their heads.
Oh yeah. I would no more buy new name brand clothes for a 3-year-old than I would design underwear for ponies.
A Reebok tennis dress might be perfectly fine for a lunch out with mom, but it doesn't cut it at church, school (uniforms, you know) or Great-Granny's funeral. I don't care if kids like to dress like athletes--when kids make as much money as athletes they can emulate them.
As for the "untucked shirt look"--that's not a look, it's the best you're gonna get out of my 6-year-old. And as far as anything matching by that age, forget it. Small boys will dress themselves, thank you very much, which means the light blue Pokemon shirt, the orange swim trunks and red stretch socks. And that red and black 49er baseball hat tucked on his head in the jaunty reverse direction ("see how cool I look, Mom?").
I watched this whole fashion show and went from incredulous into gales of laughter. By the time they had the children bring out puppies to show how cute the clothes looked I was lying on the floor with tears rolling down my face. The last set of cute denim coveralls my son wore destroyed an entire wash load of clothes because he'd used all those cute pockets to keep his trading card collection in--which, of course, disintegrated into an angry gray mass all over the laundry during the wash cycle.
And a 7-year-old in a drawstring skirt with a crop top that "shows your tummy and layers of yummy bracelets"? Get real. Most adult women find those things uncomfortable, restricting and too hard to sit in. A 7-year-old is gonna whine your ears off the moment you even think about telling her to wear it. Nope, I think I'll stick with our spring fashions: If it fits, wear it; if it's got arms, cut them off; and when in doubt, go wash the car.
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Sunnyvale, California Since 1994
