When you are four you suddenly you realise that Other People have been making sartorial decisions for you, and that is Not Right. From now on you will be the boss of What You Wear. And you Will Not wear navy blue or red or brown or any of those icky boy colours. No matter that you mother has a carefully hoarded wardrobe of beautiful hand me down four year old clothes in those precise colours that your older sisters wore without a bleat of protest. You will be Issuing An Edict. No colours will be worn except pink and purple. The occasional denim item will be tolerated if it is frilly, and, preferably, embroidered with beads and buttons. Layers will be worn at all times in order to display favourites to better advantage (and all at once). Stripey and/or pink leggings with skirts preferable at all times to pants, although that one pair of embroidered jeans occasionally acceptable if all else in the wash. No hand knitted jumpers acceptable due to itchiness, no matter whose granny knitted them on her deathbed. Only ankle socks tolerated as all other socks also cause itchiness. Even though it is Winter. In Tasmania. Cute pink boots bought in desperation by your mother rejected as requiring socks longer than ankle socks underneath. Only pink crocs will be worn throughout entire Winter. Comments from ignorant family members likening your appearance to that of a 'tiny feral bag lady' will be treated with the Withering Scorn they so richly deserve.
Tired, but determinedly cheerful mother of four. One grown up son (The Boy), one grown up daughter (The Girl), two girls at home, Rosy (17) and Posy (13). Trying to buy a little less, make a little more, live a little lighter, not mess up the children too much..