High Fashion

I try whenever I can to let the kids choose what they're going to wear. I want them to be independent, and I don't want to squash any creativity they might choose to express. However, I realized the other day that both Zippy and Munchkin have ended up with my. . . unique fashion sense. This is what they wanted to look like for the day:

Yes, that's an ER doctor shirt from the dress-up box. And I don't even know what to say about Zippy's hair. That's how he wanted it, and I've let it get WAY too long. I let Zippy keep his hair, but I did make Munchkin change into something that would at least keep her warm when we went outside. So sorry, kids. You'll have to look elsewhere for good fashion advice.

After such an eye-opening realization, I was doubly amused when Rae called that afternoon. The conversation was as follows:

Rae: They asked for names of French fashion designers and I could only name one. Do you remember any more?

Me: Um. . . . . .

And then I just had to start laughing. I mean really, Rae, you've known me 14 years now. Have I ever done (or more importantly, worn) anything that would make you think I would know who French fashion designers are? I love that you think I would.

You guys are just lucky my kids are dressed and that I don't show up in public in my body suits and bright broomstick skirts from the early 90s. Man I rocked that look. Sigh.