Parents often warn other parents to be prepared for those dreaded teen years:
“Just write off about five years of their lives.”
“During those years, they think you know nothing. Then, in college, miraculously, you’re once again brilliant and they ask you how to do everything from folding laundry to paying rent.”
“Oh, they’ll tell you they hate you, but they’re just really mad at you.”
“I didn’t know the person who inhabited my daughter’s body during those years. But, in about eleventh grade, the daughter I knew returned.”
In the early years of their lives, many kids try hard to please their parents. They implicitly acknowledge their necessary state of dependence and pretty much worship the ground we walk on. The effect on parents’ egos is rather intoxicating. We reach a point where we start to believe we know what we’re doing. We stand tall and breath sighs of relief, as we begin to feel confident in our parenting abilities. We go through stages where we proudly boast about achievements and quickly pull out photos of the little angels. But if we talk to parents with teenagers, we often hear them say (to those of us with younger children) that we should “enjoy it while you can” because it can change in a flash when those adorable toddlers and grade school kids reach adolescence.
As my kids approached middle school, I witnessed other teens grow sassy and more defiant so I found myself getting a little nervous, worrying more than I used to, wondering if my kids would change and, more importantly if our relationships would drastically change.
Well?
So far, so good.
One of the few notable differences in our household involves my daughter’s preferences in clothing. In elementary school, she would wear nearly any clothes I brought home, whether they were from the Gap, Limited Too, Abercrombie, Nordstrom, or even (gasp!) Tar-zhay. Now, however, due in part to television shows like Gossip Girl and books like The Clique series, she has grown more and more brand conscious.
The cast of characters in these titles wears (among others) Prada, D&G, Marc Jacobs, Chanel, Ralph Lauren Collection, Juicy Couture and Miu Miu. They carry Birkins. And they can’t yet drive.
So, when my daughter and I were shopping yesterday, looking for cute pumps (for me) to take to BlogHer, I probably should not have been surprised when she approached me carrying oodles of Coach, Michael Kors, Gucci and Tory Burch shoes that she wanted me to buy for her.
My head filled with jumbled, conflicted thoughts. “She appreciates good quality and is certainly developing a sense of style,” I thought, “but I shudder at the thought of purchasing Tory Burch shoes for a young girl whose feet might grow tomorrow or next month.”
“Furthermore, have we learned nothing from the excessive materialism of the last decade? We try to teach our kids to save money, give to charities, and to focus on family activities (which should rarely include shopping at the mall or boutiques).”
Right?
“What values am I teaching my daughter if I spend money on designer clothes and shoes instead of putting it into a college fund?”
But I have to admit, when I see Lily van der Woodsen sashaying across rooms in gorgeous Chanel suits toting her Birkin, I feel inspired to put on one of my favorite skirts rather than slipping into my comfy sweats and flip flops.
Similarly, if these shows and books influence young girls to dress a little better or to discover a sense of style, then I’m inclined to tolerate them. I see it as analogous to Stacy London, host of What Not to Wear, when she helps ordinary women understand (among other things) that tapered pants flatter no one.
So, at the end of our shopping excursion, I made a point of explaining to my daughter that style can be found at many stores. It’s not exclusively reserved for haute couture.
She seemed to understand and agree, at least to some extent. We talked for nearly an hour about priorities and values, outward appearance and inner beauty, as well as the fashion industry and catty classmates. I’m not sure that her heart won’t leap a little when she picks up a pair of Jimmy Choos, but I know that she understands that it’s unreasonable absurd outrageous for a middle school girl – in the real world – to wear Christian Louboutin stilettos.
Most importantly, I feel just as connected to my little girl as I did before she started watching Gossip Girl.
