There they are…like two peas in a pod looking through a rack of trashy little teen tops at Marshall’s—our favorite store. I forget, my sister who is now a high-powered administrator at a famous university, was at one time, a parent-heart-attack-inducing, teen. I remember her storming out of the house in her velvet hot-pants and matching velvet kitty ears as a young teen to go to a friend’s Halloween party. My parents trying to talk reason to her and explain to her the ways of the world—but she did not listen. She was beautiful and sexy and she was going to that party in that dangerous black cat costume. Smart, beautiful and rebellious—everything a parent wants and dreads. She was, of course, my elder sister and my hero.
There she was…talking to my daughter…lingering over little tank tops…talking about styling and cut and the fabric. A shiver ran down my spine…I must remember--there will be no consultation with The Aunt about Halloween costumes THIS YEAR—not anymore. I know her and she is still my smart, beautiful and rebellious sister—leading my daughter towards all the fun and she is loving it. They are both loving it.
I think it is time to fight fire with fire—one more fashion intervention with my daughter…I am going to start sending motorcycle magazines to her son… or…perhaps skydiving…. He is young…but I already see “risk-taker, dare-devil” written all over him.