I’m turning into my mother. This is happening to pretty much all the girls I know, and the change is manifesting itself in a variety of ways, but my fashion sense has been hit particularly hard, as I realized when I found myself less than thrilled at the prospect of dressing up for Halloween this year.
It’s one thing for small children to dress up as firemen and go around begging for candy from kindly neighbors, but it’s quite another for a band of 21-year-old women to don their flashiest fishnets and bunny ears and set out for a night of binge drinking. Even the idea of classy Halloween galas seems bizarre and inappropriate to me, a fervent Halloween enthusiast.
I realized, though, that these are the exact arguments my mother offered my seven-year-old self. I was pouting because she wouldn’t dress up like a witch when she was overseeing my second grade class’s Halloween party. Halloween, unfortunately, is pretty much for kids, and all adults can do is fill the roles of costume sewers and candy distributors.
Maybe I’m just being grouchy about the holiday this year, but my current mood is beside the point. Not only have I adopted my mother’s attitude towards costumes, but I have more distressingly taken on her attitudes about dressing in general. My wardrobe is full of simple, understated beiges, wheats, creams, browns, grays, and black. So is my mom’s. I tend to gravitate toward classic pieces like L.L. Bean quilted vests (identical to the one my mom sported in her baby-toting years) over trendier, fur-lined outerwear. These days, I buy clothes with the intention of wearing them forever, so I guess it makes sense that I’m compiling a mother-esque wardrobe.
Even if it’s not fun or exciting, this tendency isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I think I’m finally willing to back the old “like mother, like daughter” adage-my mom is a classy lady, and I should count myself lucky to be following in her fashionable footsteps.
Katherine is the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon, at kln7@georgetown.edu.
You are so lucky!