Clothes Make the Mom

I don’t identify as butch, despite a predilection for sports and an aversion to high heels. I prefer to think of myself as a middle-of-the road sort of gal, although I did femme it up a bit when working in the corporate world. At five feet tall, I found it paid to make an effort not to look like a twelve-year-old boy. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it usually doesn’t lead to corporate advancement. It’s also embarrassing to be carded at a business dinner.) Still, women’s fashion can baffle me.

I went into Old Navy the other day to buy some new clothes for my telescoping son (who despite my genes and those of a not-too-tall donor has landed in the 80th percentile for height at his age). A large sign over the women’s section read “Capris. Skorts. Shirred Hoodies.”

I stared at the sign, trying to make sense of it.

• Capris: Never saw the point, although at my height, I can sometimes wear them as full-length pants and not have to hem.
• Skorts: Again, what’s the point, even if they didn’t make me think of blast-ended skrewts from Harry Potter?
• Shirred hoodies: WTF?

There was only one solution. I followed my son to the boy’s department and bought a pair of ring-necked t-shirts to match his. (Well, in different colors. It’s enough that we both have the same color hair; I don’t need to do the whole mini-me thing.)

I realized, of course, that it’s all my own mother’s fault. She used to buy me boys’ clothes, at least for playwear, because they held up better than girls’. When she then tried to get me into frills for nicer occasions, I fought her like a blast-ended skrewt, my not-so latent tomboyism coming to the fore.

Thank heavens I now have my son to lead me through the world of sensible fashion (though I may take a pass on the Lightning McQueen t-shirts). Because I’m staying home with him, too, it doesn’t matter if I dress like an adolescent boy. I’m taking bets, however, on how old he’ll be the first time someone thinks we’re siblings.

Has parenthood changed the way you dress? What panics or childhood flashbacks do you experience when buying clothes for your children of either gender?