I may have walked on a runway. I may have even immersed myself in a hip, fashion forward city once. However, when it comes to piecing together an outfit? I may as well be asked to figure out calculus find the cure for cancer.
All of my life, my fashion sense hinged upon ideas from things around me. A fitted, ultra chic ensemble in the window of Banana Republic, I’ll run inside to try it on, only to confirm my body shape is nothing like a mannequin. A soft, multi-colored pastel sundress from a friend’s closet, I try it on, only to find that it accentuates my narrow shoulders and king-king size arse.
So what’s a girl to do?
I run and hide under my fallback jeans and black shirt. Or black pants and black shirt. Or black dress and a black pashmina.
See a pattern here?
No, I am not in perpetual mourning, nor am I color blind. On the contrary, I am merely benevolent to public eyes, and avoid blinding everyone with my poor color coordination.
However, my father-in-law IS colorblind. He purchased a new Black automobile years ago, drove it home, only to find his family completely baffled at why he would buy a Purple car. His son, Dadisodes? He’s no help either. Up until last year, he thought wearing brown shoes with a black shirt was kosher.
*Insert head shake and eye roll*
My daughter is swimming in a color handicapped gene pool!
Thankfully I am fully aware of this issue and are taking steps to avoid raising a Wednesday Addams. While purchasing clothes for my daughter, I avoid black at all costs. I’m aware of the habit-forming possibilities. I am also fortunate enough to have a niece older than my daughter, who regularly sends colorful hand-me-downs. And recently, I’ve asked Babisodes to help pick out her own outfits in the morning.
Friday morning we were in a bit of a hurry. I opened up Babisodes’ dresser drawer and instructed her to pick out pants and a shirt to wear. In a flurry, I donned my usual jeans and shirt, Babisodes in her chosen outfit, and then ran downstairs to put on shoes.
In the distance I hear, “Mommy, wait! I gots to get my purse and stings!”
*loud clamoring of plastic toys*
Me: “Okay! Hurry up! Get your shoes on and let’s go. We’re late!”
Babisodes: “ Ahwite mommy. I ready to go! I gots my stuff. We can go now.”
*Enters room wearing this*
I believe she’s all set to swim in that defective gene pool now.