Does there come a time in every woman’s life where she is told she needs some serious help?
Mine arrived this morning, after A has been raiding my wardrobe, seeking items of clothing that are either from the eighties, (I – disappointingly – have none) or items that are cute and trendy (I have one top that A has approved, so old, it is back in fashion.) For some reason, A is shocked by how many items hang in my closet that do not fit into either of these categories, nor are deemed acceptable for any other reason, and therefore, it is concluded, I am in some dire need of fashion help.
So today we spend time doing what every mother and daughter does at some point as a bonding ritual: shopping. But we are in lockdown, so our bonding day does not involve visiting stores, it is online. Instead of meandering in and out of shop doors, soaking up the scenery, clapping for the buskers, catching a cooling spray off the fountains, or stopping for a smoothie, we stay home. Sat side-by-side on the couch, one iPad between us, we scroll through row upon row of digital images of androgynous fifteen year old models. The clothing items are all called after Gen Y girls names, McKenna, Skylar, Amara…. is Zelly even a name? Any suitable items she thinks I should wear, A clicks add to cart. These clothes could never look good on me. Not even if I was fifteen, with willowy legs, and a name like Alexis.
A discusses suitability, preference and sizing. If I like an item, then this is, by default, stunting my progress. “The point is to pick something you wouldn’t normally choose, so that you don’t end up with more bad clothes like you already have” advises A.
“So I must pick something that I don’t like?”
“Pretty much.”
Then, everything is one size fits all. What? How does that work? This is explained to me, using specifics. “If Otilie wears this summer dress,” *points to picture of boy’s body in flimsy dress* “it would be tight around her boobs and bum, and little bit short; where as if I wear the same dress it would be baggier and longer. So everyone can still wear the same size.”
Except it fits no one, I think.
“What happens if the clothes arrive and don’t fit me?” I ask.
“Then I’ll wear them.” A replies.
That afternoon B wants his hair cut. I get D’s clippers and sharpen the scissors. While I am shearing the curls off the back of B’s head, it reminds me of something I read about how in 20 years from now, kids are going to realise that their quarantine haircuts were done by their parents’ ball hair clippers. Sorry, B, I whisper.
“We’re shopping online, do you need any clothes?” I ask B.
“No, I’m good.”
“Do I need new clothes?” I ask.
B awkwardly gives the yoga gear I am wearing a quick glance over. “Possibly.”
After an afternoon of decision making, A finally has a cart containg some clothes that I don’t like and won’t fit. The payment page takes several goes to load the details, as if it is asking me Are you really sure? By the end of the day, the order is processed, the shipment anticipated in 7 to 10 days. At least that’s over, I think.
“Tomorrow we’ll buy accessories.” A announces. “I have already started a wishlist. You need help with belts, bags, earrings, rings, shoes…..”
I’ll get a paper bag too. To put over my head.
