Shabby Chic

Gracee spends more time at home these days. As a result, Grandma maintains an ever-dwindling supply of clothes.

She slept here several nights this week, though, which presented a school morning challenge.

I usually set out two or three possible outfits for her to choose from.

The other morning, the conversation went something like this.

"I can't wear that butterfly shirt."

"Why not? It's cute."

"It goes with the blue shorts."

"But the shorts are pretty short, maybe too short for school, and it's pretty chilly out. And--wait a minute. You wore this shirt with jeans last week."

"I want to wear the shorts."

"No. How about this outfit?" I point to another pair of jeans and shirt.

"No. I need a different shirt for those jeans, and it's at home."

"Gracee, everything goes with jeans. They are universal pants."

She just looks at me.

"What's wrong with this shirt?" I point to a white shirt pink peppered with the word "Princess."

"Everyone laughed at me the last time I wore it."

"Everyone?"

"Well, Zander did."

"Zander's a boy. What does he know? Anyway, it's a cute shirt."

"No."

"Okay, wear this butterfly shirt with these jeans. You'll look cute, and nobody will laugh."

"No. I already told you. That shirt goes with the blue shorts. I want to wear the blue shorts."

I proceed to give her a lesson in wardrobe planning.

"Look. The fashion police have really good ideas. Pretend this butterfly shirt goes with these jeans, and this princess shirt goes with these jeans. How many outfits do you have?"

"Two."

"Okay. So what if we switch shirts. How many outfits do we have now?"

She just looks at me.

"Four. We have four outfits. Now if we pull out the blue shorts, we have yet another outfit. See? You can wear a shirt with more than one pair of pants or shorts. You have more outfits with fewer clothes."

"I don't want to wear any of those."

I'm exasperated now. "You're not wearing the blue shorts. Choose something quick and come eat. You're going to be late for school."

She came out wearing a short black dress over a pair of jeans.

Good enough.

The next day she brought clothes from home.

A colorful sundress, a pair of gray leggings, a long-sleeved button top (blue and brown that matches a pair of brown leggings--go figure), and battered black Etnies with no socks.

I took a picture and sent it to Abby. She thought she looked "hideous."

I guess that's another way of saying "shabby."

I thought she looked--creative. And cute.

Maybe even chic.

(Don't look at the weeds. I gotta get out there.)

Besides, I have bigger hills to die on.

And she says nobody at school laughed at her.

We worry too much about externals. 

Clothes. Cars. Houses.

We pant after the newest gadgets and updates. 

We think what our kids wear (or not) and have (or not) is a reflection of our love and care (or not.)

We dress them like little celebrities.

Do they look cute? Do we look stylish? Does everything coordinate? 

We suffer from Coachitis and Jordanitis and all other sorts of fashionitis.

I love the Message translation of Jesus' words in Matthew 6:27-29.

"Has anyone by fussing in front of the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? All this time and money wasted on fashion--do you think it makes that much difference? Instead of looking at the fashions, walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them."

See all the colors? I think Gracee is a beautiful as a field of wildflowers.

What did your child wear to school today? 
What are you wearing?

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King