It is (sometimes painfully) obvious to all that know me and my family that we do NOT do "fashion" in my house. (Let me be clear before anyone gets outraged, we DO wear clothes!) There are no designer pieces in any of our closets. I don't have a girly shoe fetish (not that there's anything wrong with that, but the gene just missed me somehow). The boys (thank goodness) haven't yet taken to bugging me for the latest "hot gear" that "everyone's wearing" at school (or worse yet: "Mom, chicks dig it!" I dread the day...). The most important thing for all of us, I'd have to say, is that our clothes fit right, and feel good. Anything beyond that is just fluff.
So I emerged from my bedroom ready for work yesterday, dressed in a conservative, coordinated khaki pant/knit shirt/cardigan sweater combo. I had done makeup, I had accessorized; I felt downright polished and pulled-together, I tell ya! Then on the landing I ran into Derek, who gave my outfit a quick up-and-down-scan. I do not remember if he actually said out loud, "Is that what you're wearing?", but he did wrinkle his nose and proclaim my ensemble (a word he can't even pronounce, by the way): too brown. Now this is absolutely precious, coming from the boy who has been known to unselfconsciously leave the house sporting a migraine-inducing combo of orange, purple, and green...more than once. Some of his getups are just perfect--for Clown College. Mainstream 4th grade? Not so much. Apparently, the concept of "neutral" is lost on this boy. Also, the related term "matching".
And you know what? That's just peachy with me. In fact, I give thanks on a regular basis that as the mother of two boys, I get to completely avoid certain battles; for example, I have never had to talk anyone out of wearing a tutu and tiara to school (that would be a whole other issue, wouldn't it?) My sons know the rule: if it's washed, and free of holes (okay, very small holes are sometimes overlooked), it's fair game. Clashing? Whatever. You wore it yesterday? If it came out of the laundry, go for it. (Incidentally, this policy often leads to them dressing directly out of their clean clothes pile, without ever putting anything back in the drawers. Eh, I can live with that.) After the smart-aleck commentary, however, I did find it necessary to point out to Derek that he himself gets away with donning a pair of jeans and a t-shirt every...single...day. Then I grabbed my bag (complementary with, but not matching, my boots), and took my boring-clad self off to work (looking pretty good, if I do say so myself!)