Do you ever just sit down and stare out the window pensively while thinking about just how chic you are? Today, after having been told of my total brilliance by my French teacher and having nothing to do - I was lucky enough to do just that and revel in the glowing chic pouring out of every fibre of my vintage jumper. While almost everyone fell prisoner to the system that was Goofy/Jeans Day (I have made that mistake only twice in my life but let's not dwell on the past), I wore shades of pink (not the peptobismol kind - but the dusted rose kind) and snakeskin Vince Camuto ballerina flats. Unfortunately, prior to my self-realisation, I found that my rusted red corduroy-jeans were on the verge of tearing. Where did we buy those jeans, mom? Some place called Macy's (I think that's what they call it??) for $40-$50 - do you see what happens when we quit buying JBrand?
Think about it, my dear gametes, your own child has had the divine characteristic of great fashion-sense - a talent even, a certain 'je ne sais quoi'. Let's build on what we have (i.e. my chic-ness) and invest on your daughter's wardrobe until she is forced to be a part of the work world. With an already fabulous teenage wardrobe, she may never have to endure Casual Fridays, and nobody wants that. So, parents, make your zygote materially (double-meaning intended) happy this Christmas (and for the rest of her life) and buy some J.Crew, Étoile Isabel Marant and JBrand Jeans. Heck, throw some Miu Miu and Valentino in there too!
Your only 17-year old (chic) daughter
P.S. Who is Macy anyway and why would her parents give her that name?