I’ve been a bit unsure about my daughter’s taste in accessories for a while now. It was fine when she was younger – nobody cares what kids are wearing. I did wish she’d go out in the beautiful, custom made cotton dresses I’d buy her without adding glittery, synthetic fairy wings, a Spider-boy hood or seven plastic bangles, but kids can’t be relied on to have taste.
Now that she’s fifteen, though, my expectations of Michael are a bit higher, and she’s falling well short of them. I’d thought her peers at her new private school might influence her towards being a bit more style-conscious, but so far I’m not seeing results. If anything, she seems to be more determined than ever to stand out from the crowd. For example, she’s started wearing old junk from the local op shop – a faded red belt bag that she claims is ‘ironic’, and a truly terrible cap I’m told is known as a ‘dad hat’.
Desperate to add something from the current century to her repertoire, I treated her to a shopping spree today. At least, I tried to. I was hoping to entice her with something contemporary yet timeless – a truly classic buy. Black leather bag and shoe imagery danced through my mind as we entered my favourite department store, but Michaela had barely glanced around before announcing that she wasn’t interested in anything there.
My heart sinking, I took her into the surf shop as a last resort – at least she could get some up-to-the-minute jeans there. She was briefly taken with a brown leather slouch bag that she thought looked ‘kind of Kate Moss’, but brushed off my offer to buy it for her, saying she could find something ‘more authentic for a couple of bucks’.
She said she just wanted to buy some ketogenic coffee creamer, have a look in the bookshop and get out of there – shopping centres, apparently, are ‘the devil’. I’m starting to think this girl’s not my daughter after all.