Last night, I went shopping with my daughter. As we shopped, she lamented that all of her clothes in her closet…(which, by the way is so jam-packed, that I think it is affecting the structural soundness of our home) were not the latest trends, and she didn’t want to wear them anymore. I myself, cannot wrap my mind around this type of notion. I shop at Anne Taylor and Lord and Taylor and carfully choose classic wardrobe staples that last for many years and still look fairly current. I spend more to begin with and reap the benefits later (And NO, I don’t have any Gaucho’s from the 80’s).
In my daughters world, the latest fad clothes are what she seeks. She pours over fashion magazines, and consults the internet and our good friend Gina, the fashion guru weekly. Then it’s off to the mall with her Tanning Salon paycheck… to stores like Forever 21 and H & M for some trendy throwaway clothes that she won’t like anymore in about 3 weeks. I guess it works. I just can’t do it (ok, and I would never fit my big gulu into those clothes anyway).
So last nights shopping trip included about 6 items including peach jeans, cheetah shorts, new sandals, and some trendy tees. I made her promise that she would go thru her closet and get rid of the stuff she was never gonna wear again. Problem number 1…she has a difficult time being honest with herself about what she is and isn’t gonna wear again. Problem number 2…when she does get rid of things and her closet isn’t bulging to the point of eruption anymore…she is consumed with fashion-loss depression that only 72 Starbucks Upside down triple caramel machiatos can cure. Again…this kind of emotion is very hard for me to understand. Take my cast iron skillet, or my goat cheese, however…and I would need to be hospitalized.
So, as promised…Alissa decided to purge today. And purging she is. I was happily watching my lastest favorite Food Network show, “Sandwhich King” and she comes downstairs and says that she needs me. I must go upstairs and sit on her bed and offer moral support and condolences as she painfully considers each “sooooo last summer” garment. So, because I really am not that interested, but am trying to do my “motherly duty”…I am sitting on the bed with my laptop…blogging about her pain. I occasionally look up from the computer and say, “uh huh” or “yeah…that’s so summer of 2011…” and she seems comforted. Best outta 2. I get to blog and she has support in the funeral of her discarded clothes.
Even Daisy came into lend some moral support. Here she is standing on a pile of last years fashion faux pas. They say that dogs can sense bad fashion choices…um…obviously!
Half way thru and I feel I’ve blogged about all I can think of for this situation. Her closet is far from empty, and I’m feeling like I need some Salted carmel potato chip Ben and Jerry’s icecream. But I will remain…here in my spot on the bed…perhaps checking out facebook or Guy Fieri’s latest recipes…and occasionally offering my sage advice…”Those shorts…so last week…totally wrong for you!”
It’s just what Mom’s do.