Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Like a Prayer, People

My daughter, my beautiful, smart, funny and sweet oldest daughter has the weirdest fashion sense in the world. She loves clothes and loves to put together outfits. She has told me more than once that it's okay to wear shoes that are too small and hurt your feet if they are pretty and look good with your outfit. She once didn't speak to me for two hours because her sister got to wear a hairbow and she didn't. She went a solid three months without putting on pants because skirts were coooler. Last fall, she told me polka dots were "in." In what, little one? Are they big with the Montessori crowd? Did tiny child magazine do a spread about polka dots? Seriously, where does she get this stuff? I am no fashionista. I barely wear stuff that's clean and color coordinated, yet alone put the thought and effort into a single outfit that she does her top half.

When people ask me about her sense of style. "What kind of clothes does she like?" "What's her favorite color to wear?" etc, I reply that her natural style is sort of Madonna, a la 1982. She does a lot of layers, things in the wrong order, colors that don't really match, etc. etc. The thing is she puts things on and you think "Oh, no, make it stop! I can't believe she's going to put that red shirt on top of the pink one, oh-no-oh-no-oh-no." Then she gets it all on and her vision makes sense. (Okay, it's totally a twilight zone kind of sense, but sense all the same.) I am convinced that she's going to work in fashion when she grows up.

As a testament to the Madonna-y-ness of it all and her crazy style and timeless beauty, I offer this proof:

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