A Trip to Reality with My Stylist by Dina Ramon
You know you’ve reached new territory when your eight-year-old daughter takes on the role of your stylist and make-up consultant. But wait, what happened to the days when I styled her? Cute jumpers, barrettes with bows, bright flowered tights. Nope, no more. I typically have to beg her to wear items that I favor. It’s fine-and helpful-that she picks out her own outfits and accessories that reflect her personality. That I can handle. But now the little girl who I used to have fashion-control over is like a judge on ‘What Not to Wear.’ Nowadays she is more likely to give me the up-and-down scan and either nods her approval or makes a face that looks like she just bit into something really sour. And she doesn’t hold back. The other day I brought her with me to a cosmetics store so I could use a gift card I was still holding on to. I admit I kind of zoned out as I starting applying and evaluating a couple of the latest BB creams. She clearly had an opinion about what I should do as she whispered, “you really should get that magic cream mommy. It covers up your zits.” For a moment I was taken aback by her directness but then I was proud of her and loved her for saying it. At least she didn’t scream it to everyone in the store. I tried to resist buying something based on the review of an eight-year-old who doesn’t even wear lip gloss but went back the next day with the rationale that her observation was candid and without hesitation so the stuff must work for me. And while I know better than to take her clothes shopping when I’m shopping for me, there I was the other day in the dressing room with at least a dozen items while she politely but barely contained her boredom. I’ve become a picky shopper and I’m overly sensitive by the way certain types of clothes that I used to wear effortlessly, now look on me. So it didn’t help matters when she flatly announced, ‘Mommy that dress is not good on you,’ once again giving me a look of disdain and shaking her head. I disagreed and tried to reason with her. But she wouldn’t back down and though I loved the outfit I didn’t get it, convinced that she was right. How could this be? I can’t trust my own style anymore? I can’t tell what looks flattering and age-appropriate? I tried to reassure myself by thinking, ‘what does she know?’ A lot, apparently. I guess the fashion stylist tables have turned for my daughter and I. Or will at least be butting heads more often.