It’s time I faced facts: We’re knee deep in September. I know
this because the days are getting shorter, the nights are getting
longer and my kids have gone back to school.
It’s time I faced facts: We’re knee deep in September. I know this because the days are getting shorter, the nights are getting longer and my kids have gone back to school. I also know this because I’m saying things out loud like: “Drop that leopard skin belt and don’t even think about buying that cut-off belly shirt with ‘Hottie’ on the front.”
You see, I’m still recovering from recently spending three hours in a 4-by-6 dressing room with my preteen daughter, trying to find acceptable new clothes for her debut in middle school. I think the main problem is the word “acceptable” which, apparently, has two definitions. The first being, “something in subtle hues, practical, and machine washable.” And the second being, “clothing that is cut, torn, or acid washed, sheer, tight, and three sizes too small.” Bet you can’t guess which definition is mine.
Oh sure, you hear horror stories about this sort of thing all of the time, but nothing can prepare you for the truth.
Let me tell you, it’s a far cry from shopping for my 8-year-old son. To think that just last week I went to the nearest discount store, grabbed an armful of jeans and Scooby Doo T-shirts and called it a success.
But now that my daughter is starting middle school, clothes are not merely something to keep her warm and protect her from the elements, they are a “personal statement” right up there with bloomers and the power suit.
I think part of the problem about clothes shopping with a preteen girl is that there are two agendas going on. Her agenda is to scour the racks in search of the most hideous, least age-appropriate outfit in the entire store. While yours is to find something knee-length in, say, a nice gingham plaid.
The other problem is vocabulary. For instance, at any other time in your life, if you say the words “hey, nice shirt,” people hear, “hey, nice shirt.” However, this is not true of a preteen girl. She will automatically hear, “Alert! Alert! This is something only 9-year-olds and major losers wear! Do not, I repeat, DO NOT, be caught dead wearing this!”
So you can see where communication can be a big problem.
The other issue is that any clothing they buy must fall under the realm of “current fashion,” whatever that may be. Don’t feel bad if you don’t know what it is, because no one else, including your daughter, knows either. Besides, chances are it’ll change by the time you make it to the register anyway.
My daughter’s way of judging what’s in fashion is by assuming anything I like is, of course, not in fashion. But don’t think for a minute that reverse psychology will work. Trust me, such a flimsy charade will not fool anybody. I know because I tried. Once, after a particularly heated discussion over a pair of beaded spandex bell bottoms, I held up a classic cotton blouse with ruffled sleeves, and said in my best take-charge kind of voice, “This is the most hideous looking top I’ve ever seen. You definitely can’t have this. No-sir-ee.”
And she said, “OK.”
Of course any fool can recognize this for what it is, her first step in acquiring independence. But I didn’t let this bit of knowledge stop me. Instead, I did what any mother in a losing situation would do: start talking about food.
And, let me just say, over lunch we discussed all sorts of things. Like about how lime green is the new pink. And how Mary Kate and Ashley are in, and Britney is out. And the differences between low-cut flair legs and bell-bottoms.
Afterwards, we went to a different store and found an outfit we both agreed on: jeans and a white T-shirt.
And, oh, OK, a pair of studded midcalf boots.
As my friend Julie says, the key to successful back-to-school shopping is compromise.
