Twisted Family Antics

My daughter has reached a very entertaining age, one where she believes she is a fashion icon.  And I have to admit that she amazes me with her ability to combine colors and pull together outfits.  Sometimes she only wears them inside the house, and for five minutes at a time, but she knows what she’s doing.

We attended an event on Thursday and I thought I would attempt to dress appropriately, throw together an outfit that wouldn’t embarrass myself.  My normal attire always includes the word “sweatshirt,” so instead I wore a dress and jacket.

I will admit for the moment that I believe the advertisement for this particular dress included the wording “soft as a sweatshirt” or some such nonsense.

Unfortunately, when you rarely attempt to be stylish it’s easy to convince yourself that any change at all is an attractive step up.

I put product in my hair, added earrings and necklace, and we went out the door.

I believe my friend, A., may have even told me that I was looking especially spiffy.

After three hours spent with other moms and their families it was time to go.  We got in the car.

I’m not sure what caused my lovely young daughter to begin this particular episode of “Fashion Police,” but once she got started there was no stopping her.

We had no more begun driving down the road than she said something about, “By the way, Mom, what’s up with that outfit you’re wearing!  Those earrings do not match that jacket at all!”

She was actually snickering at me, giggling behind her hand and rolling her eyes.

“Actually, that striped jacket is so ugly.  It’s very 80’s.  As a matter of fact, you should put that dress AND the 80’s jacket in the garbage.  It looks like you’re pregnant.  That jacket is awful!  You look like a hobo!  A pregnant hobo!”

At this point she had the nerve to ask me a vocabulary question, wherein I had to explain that “maternity clothes” would be the proper descriptive term.

To be perfectly honest, most of my clothes look just as she described.  Rather than buying a figure fitting 1X I tend to go straight to the 3X.  Instead of looking lumpy I end up appearing enormous.

“And what’s with the fancy pink necklace?”

I told her I knew it was not an exact match, therefore it was mostly hidden inside my dress.

She said, “I can still see it.  I know what you’re wearing!  It doesn’t match at all!”

My subsconscious mind kind of knew of the existing problems when I put the outfit on.  Particularly the enormously baggy stretch pants underneath the plush, roomy dress.  The jacket was an after thought.  It was probably purchased in the early 90’s, but may have been on a discount rack for a few years prior.

As we were pulling into one of my favorite snack spots she stated, “Well, the outfit would be appropriate if you were working at Popeye’s Chicken!”

Of course, it was my own fault.  I laughed harder with each comment.  This egged her on.  We were absolutely guffawing as we drove down the road, me snorting biscuit out my nose.

In reality, my fancy Valentine earrings and matching necklace color really were all wrong.  No way in hell did the red match my striped blue & beige jacket.

I knew that when I put them on, but I thought I would be daring for the holiday.

The hell of it is, of course, that she was right about it all.  I may throw away the jacket.

But I really like the feel of that sweatshirt dress.

I’m choking out a laugh as I admit this fact. 

Next time I’m asking her what she thinks before we leave the house.  It doesn’t mean I’ll change my clothes, but I’m looking forward to her perspective.

After all, at 47 it’s all about comfort for me.  The kookier the outfit, the happier I seem to be.

Hobo chic could become the next craze.  I can only hope.

My Crocs with the broken strap go with practically anything in this potential fashion genre.