The Day My Fashion Sense Died
It all started innocently enough. My three-year-old daughter, Lily, was playing dress-up, and in a fit of parental pride (and let’s be honest, a desire for five minutes of peace), I declared, “Lily, you should be my stylist! You can pick out my clothes tomorrow!”
Oh, the naiveté. I had unwittingly unleashed a tiny fashion dictator upon my wardrobe. Little did I know, this wouldn’t end with just one day. Lily, with the stubbornness only a toddler can possess, had other plans. That, my friends, is how I ended up letting my toddler dress me for an entire week.
My first clue that this experiment might be a mistake was the outfit Lily presented me with on Monday morning. Picture this: a flowy, floral maxi skirt (reasonable enough), paired with a bright green, sequined tank top (questionable, but I’m no fashion snob), and to top it all off, a pair of fuzzy, pink bunny slippers.
“But Lily,” I tried to reason, “Mommy has to go to the grocery store. Won’t my feet get cold?”
Her response? An adamant shake of the head and a determined, “No, Mommy, pretty!”
So off I went, feeling like a walking, talking fashion contradiction. The looks I got ranged from amusement to bewilderment, and I’m pretty sure I saw a teenager snap a picture for what I can only assume was a “What Not to Wear” Instagram account.
Day 3: Clash of the Titans (and the Polka Dots)
By Wednesday, I had learned to embrace the chaos. I decided to view this experience as a sort of social experiment, a test of my own vanity. Lily, on the other hand, was clearly reveling in her newfound power.
This was most evident on Day 3 when she decided to dress me in a clashing symphony of patterns and textures. We’re talking a striped purple and orange shirt, a polka-dotted skirt, and my trusty bunny slippers (apparently, they were non-negotiable).
“Mommy looks like a rainbow!” Lily exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.
And you know what? She was right. I did look like a rainbow. A slightly disoriented, possibly colorblind rainbow.