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18 April 2014

Love/hate relationship with my first stylist

When I was at work few days ago, I saw something, that shocked me a little and made me think a lot. There was a girl - age 8/9, dressed in a way, that made me go What the...? - shorts so tiny, that they barely covered anything; tiny top ripped all over her back, with huge dark wings printed on the sides. Of course she was assisted by her mom. I was standing there, slightly shocked, thinking how a parent can allow his kid to leave home like this. And that's when I realized - Wow, wow, wow, hold on. you weren't easy with your mom when it came to dressing up, when you were w kid. I obviously got a mom syndrome (already?) and the whole situations made me think of these special circumstances, when I put on all the weirdest stuff on me and my mom was there to usually just to say Ahh, kid, do what you like to do. (And I thought that I went crazy, but I saw kids dressed as fairies and butterflies going to kindergarten. Feels like my childhood wasn't fulfilled.)

In the first years of my existence on this planet, my mom was the one responsible (with obvious objections coming from me from time to time), but she had power to make her daughter look like she should. And it probably was like this in most of the mother-daughter or rather parent-kid relations. Not mentioning that my mom has always been a really stylish lady, paying attention to details and making a lot of DIY pieces.

And I was a Mickey Mouse once

And couple of years later everything had changed. I was a good kid, but as an only child you become aware of the fact, that it's easy to manipulate your parents and believe me - I perfectly knew what I was doing, when I was trying to force my mom to buy me certain stuff. I remember when I was around 9 or 10 and I was so annoying, that my mom bought me my first wedges sandals (reminder: I was a KID) - sometimes I feel that I'd rather erase that from my memory. Not mentioning all the weird pieces from the 90's/early 2000's and buying my first fancy sneakers - meaning some horrible white and orange Pumas.

And when I was around 11, I think my mom's dictatorship was over, because I tried to create the look myself, even though it was a long way full of mistakes, of which I'd love to forget sometimes - because as long as I remember a very less from my childhood, I remember a lot of details from my teenage life. All the crazy DIY ideas, colors, patterns and all kinds of weird stuff. But I still do make mistakes and my mom will always be my favorite critic. Even when I truly hated her advices and was a rebellious teenager painting Converse sneakers with markers.

So how was it with you and your parents?

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