togs: styled by my daughter
Last Friday night, we were all hanging out on our couch in front of the television (as you do), and I was surfing on my computer (as I do). I noticed on my Facebook feed this story of a woman who let her toddler choose her clothing for a week. Laughing, I shared it with Alex.
"That's awesome," she said.
"It kind of is," I smiled.
"You should totally let me do this for you. In fact," her eyes lit up, "you should let me choose your clothes to wear tomorrow."
I balked. "Um ... what?"
"Yup. You should let me pick out your clothes for tomorrow. Why not?"
I quickly scanned my mind for what I had to do the next day -- nothing but run a few errands. "Um ... okay?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed. "And you have to pinkie-promise that you'll wear whatever I pick out for you." She held out her little finger.
"Wait," I said, trying to think fast. "There are ... um ... a few rules. Yes, rules! Um ... whatever you pick has to be weather appropriate. If it's cold out, I don't want to be in a sundress. And if it's warm out, do not put me in a chunky sweater."
"Okay," she said, waving her finger impatiently.
"AND!" I continued, still trying to stall. "The clothes have to FIT."
"OKAY!" she said.
I hooked my little finger into hers, and winced.
"YAY!" she yelled. And she bounded off into my bedroom.
About 10 minutes later, she returned. "Okay, I've picked it. Come see."
I walked in to find my clothes laid out on my bed, and groaned. It seemed that she'd picked almost every single impulse buy I'd ever made: the fleur de lis scarf I bought for $5 at a mall kiosk; another, a metallic silver t-shirt -- I bought it online, thinking it was heather grey, and was shocked at its shiny-ness when it arrived. Besides, it didn't fit.
"Oh, honey, that top doesn't ..." and then I stopped, remembering that I'd lost some weight since buying it. "You know what? Let's try everything on."
So I did. And the top fit. And honestly? I sort of love the look.
I'd have never worn that scarf with those leopard shoes without Alex's suggestion (and, for the record, I'm not in the habit of wearing 3-inch pumps when I run errands); also, I'm still a bit torn about the t-shirt, but I could still totally see myself wearing this again (or a reasonable facsimile thereof, anyway).
So maybe the lesson here is that I should let Alex put my outfits together a little more often.