Last Updated on December 8, 2020 by World's Okayest Mom
If My Girl’s style of dress had a theme song, it would be “Fancy” – I’m so fancy… Can’t you taste this gold. Come on. You can sing along. No one is listening. You know you know this song.
(Confession: until writing this post and double checking the lyrics, I thought the song said: Can’t you taste the scone. To be fair, scones are fancy too!)
Anyways, back to My Girl’s style (how easily I am distracted by Iggy Azalea). My Girl definitely has her own style. It’s this:
- Fancy dress. I’m saying Easter or Christmas dress fancy — ruffles, tulle, glitter (oh, the glitter), preferably some sort of detachable flower, and a sash.
- Socks. Obviously, socks, but My Girl is very particular about her socks. Either they need to have an animal crawling up them or peeping out the top of them, or they need to be ankle socks. There’s no in between. In general, My Girl despises socks, thus the cute animal ones. It’s really more of a bribe than a style.
- Cowgirl boots. My Girl has me well trained to say “cowgirl” because for a year after this became a staple to her wardrobe, she would correct anyone when they complimented her on the cowboy boots she was wearing. “I’m a girl; they are cowgirl boots.” (Tall socks with animals peeping out of the top also work well with her essential footwear.)
- Headband with some sort of animal ears included. My Girl’s favorite headband (thus worn on every possible occasion) are springy black cats – the kind of jokester headband from Halloween. Except, in My Girl’s eyes, they are no joke. They are every-day wear, especially to church. But if you’ve read Parenting My Girl is Like Playing Whack-a-Mole, you know My Girl is no stranger to bringing demon cats to God’s House.
I’m not really sure where My Girl got her fancy style. At first thought, I would say not from me. Certainly not from The Husband who wears the same sweatshirt every night after work until I finally sneak it off his pile of clothes while he is sleeping in on a Saturday morning and add it to the weekly laundry load.
When I was growing up, I was the younger sister. So you know what that means. Say it with me, younger siblings… Hand. Me. Downs. Yes. So my fashion style was Three Years Late and Whatever My Mom Picked Out for The Sister. Very chic. Very runway-esque.
When I started buying my own clothes and/or started raising enough of a fuss that My Mom bought clothes specifically for me, I veered toward PacSun in the mall. Remember PacSun? Actually “in my day” it was Pacific Sunwear. Apparently the younger generation thought that was too much to say or print on a receipt. So my style was jeans, usually a pony tail because this one is lazy, and a graphic tee with a cute saying. Like a sheep saying “ewe’s not fat, ewe’s fluffy.” (Still makes me giggle.)
Come to think of it, my current style hasn’t changed much. Except my graphic tees are cleverly referencing some work of literature or Friends, rather than a dad joke… Ok, that’s not true. There are plenty of dad joke tees in my closet too.
Every once and awhile, in my younger years — My Mom would take pity on me and sidestep the hand-me-downs for an original pick. I very clearly remember an all lace, all white dress for Easter, probably around the same age My Girl is currently. As I’m parenting My Girl, I’m slowing realizing what My Mom was thinking, letting me get that dress, which I also remember was not cheap. But it was like a dream for me. So, ok, maybe My Girl comes by her fanciness honestly.
The Evolultion of My Girl’s Style
But My Girl insists on fancy. Fancy dresses. Fancy headbands. Fancy tights. The more lace, layers and glitter, the better.
She started this when she was in daycare, around age 3 or 4. She begged and begged to wear her fancy, red velvet Christmas dress to daycare every day. At first, I resisted. That dress was $40! (Can I just pause and say: WTF? A 4-year-old needs a fraction of the fabric, yet the dress is more expensive than most I buy for myself.) I wasn’t letting her wear the expensive dress to daycare just to have it destroyed. But then I realized — Christmas is over, the money was spent, and honestly, it’s not worth the fight. So why not? Thus began My Girl’s style.
I quickly got wise and stopped spending $40 on a single dress. Have you heard of this magical place called Costco? Ah… Costco. It’s one of My Girl’s favorite stores (not counting The Disney Store, of course) because everything is giant-sized so she can pretend she’s a fairy exploring the land of ogres, and because, like everyone else, she loves loves loves the free samples. She would sample garlic-flavored seaweed if they were offering free samples at Costco. Which they do.
But the reason I love Costco is because of their array of “fancy My Girl dresses.” I stock up. During Easter, I buy enough fancy dresses to last us the spring and summer. And again during Christmas, I stock up for the long winter ahead of us. The dresses usually run me about $15 apiece. #FrugalMommy (P.S. for real This Frugal Mommy, check out my friend… Sorry. Shameless plug.)
So Costco has served me well the last four-ish years. Then this year happened. Usually, I hit Costco on the way home from work, so My Girl doesn’t have much say in the dresses I pick out. I know enough about her style – as I should after dressing her for the last eight years – so I just pick the dresses I think she’ll like. She’s a pretty grateful little booger, so there are rarely any complaints.
Until this year. This year, when getting ready to purchase her Christmas and winter dresses, she decided to have an opinion. Right?! How dare she! She told me the specifics of her newest dress: all red, preferably with a rose somewhere on it, needs to “twirl”, small buttons are ok (these are her exact specifications), some glitter, not itchy sleeves (translation, she doesn’t want sleeves made of tulle because they itch her armpits). That was some checklist.
Costco did not deliver.
I walked longingly past all the $15 dresses – some satin dark blue ones, a few red and gold ones, a lovely black velvet one. But none that fit My Girl’s criteria. Goodbye Frugal Mommy Days.
Two days later, I ended up at the local department store with My Girl and My Mom. If you’ve checked out the Cast of Characters, you know My Mom is My Girl’s biggest cheerleader. She’s also the biggest enabler when it comes to spoiling My Girl. Both translate into ‘cha-ching’ for me.
This shopping trip was no different. Without much ado, My Girl ended up with an all red dress, one that twirls, with glitter, that looks way more grown up than I would like. And cost about the same price as four Costco dresses.
I can also blame My Mom for the biggest part of My Girl’s style: her cowgirl boots. At age four, My Mom decided My Girl needed real cowgirl boots. Hands down, this was the best, most appropriate gift My Girl has ever received. My Mom, once a cowgirl herself, bought the boots from Tractor Supply Store, because she knows what she’s doing. We’re talking legit. My Girl, basically, hasn’t taken them off since.
I’ve literally bought eight pairs of the exact same boots – brown Durangos – just in different sizes. Here’s the magic of these boots:
- They match everything (according to My Girl, anyways. She wears them with fancy dresses, jean shorts, swimsuits, you name it.
- They are easy clean-up. I literally hose them down if they get too dirty.
- They always look nice because they are meant to withstand riding horses in the Wild West. My Girl is notoriously rough on shoes, but has yet to destroy a pair of Durangos.
- They are comfortable — according, again, to My Girl. When she is told to wear comfortable shoes since she’ll be walking a lot, she still wears the boots. She’s played laser tag in them, went hiking, strolled on the beach and, of course, rode horses.
So, to sum it up: everyone needs to buy these boots for their children. And in our household, they are the only pair of shoes needed for the last four years. And no, Durango has yet to endorse me or this blog. Though, they absolutely should.
My Girl’s Style Today –
Apparently, she has an opinion… and a vision
But that was when My Girl’s style was store-bought. Apparently, these days, she’s fancies herself a modern-day Coco Chanel. Who needs pre-made, pre-designed clothes when you have your own style?
When The Husband picked her up from school this week, she had half a dozen, perfectly round holes in her jeggings. The conversation with her and The Husband went something like this:
The Husband: “What happened to your pants?”
My Girl: (apparently surprised that something was wrong with her pants) “What do you mean?”
The Husband: “You have holes all over them.”
My Girl: “I don’t know what happened.”
The Husband: “Was it an accident?”
My Girl: “If it was an accident, will I still be in trouble?”
The Husband: “Yes.”
My Girl: “Then, no. It wasn’t an accident.”
The Husband: “Did you cut holes in your pants on purpose?”
My Girl: “Yes.”
The Husband: “Why?”
My Girl: “Because lots of girls have holes in their pants. I think they look better this way.”
Smh. So begins the importance of style and peer pressure. As my anger started to flare up over the ruined pants, My Girl pulled out this gem of wisdom:
“Let’s not let this ruin our night.”
Damn. Can’t argue with that. So we didn’t let it ruin our night. And she didn’t let it ruin her style. Though she is a few dollars poorer since we made her pay for the destroyed jeggings.