While I’m sure at least two of you out there are eagerly waiting for my Manilow recap, unfortunately I haven’t been able to write it yet. On Tuesday, I was poked in the eye by a yucca while weeding, whacked in the forehead with a vacuum cleaner attachment while vacuuming, and then, just to complete the loser trifecta, our washing machine overflowed and flooded our wood floors and I had to run around like a maniac with a Shop Vac for the next day and a half. (Clearly, I must have royal blood because my DNA can’t handle this domestic shit.) Anyway, I’ll have the Manilow Magic up next week. For now, here’s my column that appeared in the February 2010 issue of Austin Woman Magazine.
I used to be fashionable. This was many years ago, when I worked for a movie studio and later advertising agencies and I didn’t have kids. Every morning, I’d wake up and spend at least an hour getting dressed in my chic black suits or form fitting skirts. Then I’d carefully style my hair, put on make-up and as a final touch, I’d even accessorize with some trendy jewelry. I looked so good that people on the street would often stop and stare when I passed by.
Now it’s a few years and a couple of children later, and you could say that my fashion sense has changed a bit. I still spend at least an hour getting dressed in the morning, but that’s only because I’m also packing lunches, tying shoes, signing permission slips, guzzling coffee and making breakfast. As for hair and make-up, well, I’m lucky if I can brush my teeth and put on a hat before running out of the house to drop off the kids. Of course, people on the street still stop and stare when I pass by, but now it’s because they’re scared I’m going to knock them down and steal their wallets.
My mismatched socks make me look a little suspicious.
My downward fashion spiral began, as it does for most mothers, when I was pregnant. Suddenly I was no longer able to wear cute clothes with labels that said “Juicy Couture” or “Lucky Jeans.” No, I had to wear not-so-cute clothes with labels that said “Mother Time” or “MaternityWare” or “Give Me Ham or I’ll Sit On You, Dummy.” My mother always tells me how much more stylish maternity clothes are these days compared to when she was pregnant, but I’m not so sure about that. After all, a muumuu is a muumuu is a muumuu. And even when it’s not, it’s still a frickin’ muumuu.
Once I had my first baby and had to deal with all that entailed, looking stylish was about the last thing I cared about. I didn’t even have time to take a shower, much less a few spare moments to make sure my purse and shoes were well coordinated (or that my nursing bra was latched.) And even on the rare occasion when I sucked it up and dressed in something nice, it was only a matter of seconds before whatever I was wearing was covered in gallons of disgusting baby spit-up. It got so bad that by the time I had my second son, I only wore shirts that were available in the shades of Digested Milk and Mashed Peas. (Available from the Kathy Lee Collection at K-Mart.)
Over the next few years, I found myself falling easily into the stay-at-home mom routine of wearing jeans and sneakers every day. Or I’d just throw on some workout wear that, for some reason, was never actually used to work out. But most days I didn’t have anywhere more exciting to go than the playground or the grocery store, so buying fashionable, new clothes just didn’t seem that important. I was more concerned with being comfortable. Once I even contemplated buying a pair of ultra-casual Crocs until I realized they made me look like a a psychotic blonde frog who squishes when she walks.
Then one day, not too long ago, my husband glanced at me while I was chugging through the kitchen in search of candy. He looked me up and down and very quietly said, “You’re wearing those pants…again?”
“Um, yeah,” I answered. “I thought you liked these.”
“I do like them,” he replied, “but that doesn’t mean I want to see them every single day for the rest of my life. Maybe you should go buy a few new pairs. You know, just to keep me guessing.”
“Fine,” I huffed, “but once you see the Visa bill, you’re going to wish I wore these stupid pants every day. Sucker.”
And that was the beginning of what could possibly be called my “Fashion Renaissance.” I’ve now renewed, refreshed and updated my wardrobe with designer jeans, strappy sandals, and cute t-shirts, and it’s actually made me feel like I’m back to my old self. In fact, I can almost be called stylish these days. (Key word: “almost.”) And while I’ll never go back to the days of dressing up in my chic black suits, I guess that’s OK.
They’d probably look ridiculous with my mismatched socks, anyway.
I was going to say I love this
Give Me Ham or I’ll Sit On You, Dummy
and then I read this
After all, a muumuu is a muumuu is a muumuu. And even when it’s not, it’s still a frickin’ muumuu.
And I will admit to engaging in huge fights with my wardrobe some mornings in an effort to find a cute outfit–just so I can stay home and wipe butts all day.
I need to hire you as my fashion consultant. You always look great when I see you, and I always look a mess. Plus, when I go shopping by myself, I never actually buy anything, which defeats the purpose.
I need a makeover so badly. A few years ago our local newspaper had a Mother’s Day Makeover contest. To enter, your husband(or other person who pretends to know you) had to write an essay about what a great mom you are. My husband wouldn’t. Jerk. It’s all his fault I look horrible all the time and don’t know what to do with my mommy hair.
I’m now imagining a police line up of criminals in odd socks.
Beauty isn’t cheap. Bought new Converse NO Lace canvas shoes yesterday – this IS high fashion for me.
The boys have to pay if they want us to play. Now, if they could only get us non cowgirl to wear chaps…
Mismatched socks are cool. Way hipper and stylish than matching socks.
I was a mess too until I realized that I actually had to look decent for my new job. So, after sifting through the baby spit-up stained shirts, I had to leg it to Ross and buy some decent clothes. Thanks to tips from Mouthy Housewives about where to get affordable makeup, I feel almost human again…till I head home and get pelted with mashed peas!
Besides the movie studio job, and the stopping traffic – you could be living MY life! My kids are almost grown – I guess I have to get rid of my Spit up shirts and split pea sweat pants…
I wish had an excuse (like having children) for wearing “comfortable” clothes around the house all day. Can I use the fact that I live in an unfashionable town for my poor wardrobe?
Nice piece. (And I’m talking about your article, silly.)
so this is what i have to look forward to, eh?! 🙂 but not that i ever had a fashion sense to begin with…
Remember, MILF is a phrase open to interpretation!
wendi, you know i love you. but i worked with you back in the studio days. and i think your readers should know that you were wearing muumuus even back then. yes, they were black, they were still muumuus. and as a wise woman once wrote: a muumuu is a muumuu is a muumuu. sorry.
PJ–I think you’re getting me confused with my boss at the time. Or with Mary the Witch down the hall. Yes?
I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I’m with ya sister. My fashion makeover has begun also due to my husband’s interference. And I quote “Hey, remember when you used to wear jewelry and stuff to go with your outfits?” Uh, yeah, back in the dark ages apparently…
In case anyone was wondering, guys (like me) can actually tell the difference between a Mom dressed for a day of child rearing and a Mom who has given up. It’s kind of like a 40-year-old man wearing a football jersey vs. a 40-year-old man wearing a football lapel pin on his suit jacket while watching the game in the VIP box.
I know it gets hard, but don’t ever give up.
It’s the trying that counts, not so much the end result.
You don’t want to be the female equivalent of the dork down the street with short jean shorts and tube socks pulled up to his patellas, do you?
I always recommend to new moms that when the baby is about six months old, mom goes out and gets a new wardrobe. It is so easy to fall into that sweatpants & hat routine.
I also tell them a little bit of mascara and lip gloss go a long way.
Ah, the fashion phases of moms. I find myself now safely out the other side, starting to enjoy clothes and dressing with more care these days, like I’m enjoying the last years of looking good or something…
“Psychotic blonde frog who squishes when she walks.”
CLASSIC.
Dude. You’re all hot n stuff.
You are Classic. Just keep doing what your doin.
How are women so eerily similar? The conversation over the pants has been repeated between my wife and me countless times (and we have no kids). She buys one summer dress at the beginning of every year. And then, she wears it. And wears it. And wears it some more. And when I finally say, “um, don’t you have that dress you wore last summer?,” she says “but I thought you liked this dress.” Well, you know how the rest of the story goes. Glad your stylish again.
Pregnancy was only Phase I of my fashion decline. I’m now in stage IV: The Teen Years where their must-have designer labels mean mom can only afford Goodwill.
I agree with Maureen. My kids are 20 and 23 and I’m finally starting to buy “girl clothes” again – no more dressing like a lumberjack (that’s what my kids call the jeans and tshirts or flannel shirt) or in old workout clothes. I still think foundation is the work of the devil but eye makeup was a new beginning for me.
Oh, yes. My fashion style has totally changed. Jeans are now dress up clothes for me since I wear workout clothes (or as I like to call them, active wear) every.day. And almost all of it is black.
I am envious of your strappy sandles. One day, I too, will embark on my own fashion renaissance!!
Can you teach me how to be cool and stylish? I need a make over myself actually!
When a “husband” notices that it’s time to update your look, you know it’s really time. I’m sure your the most stylish girl in Austin.
“Give Me Ham or I’ll Sit On You, Dummy.” I think I had a pair of those pants. Or if I didn’t, I would have bought them for the label alone. Certainly not for the fit, because once I popped with my first pregnancy, nothing has ever fit right since.
I like to think that by wearing the same three pairs of jeans over and over again, I’m being responsible (no wasting money on extra pairs of pants or wasting water on needless washing of pants that are hardly stained at all) and yet not wearing the sweatpants more than a couple of times a week.
I remember a time when makeup was a regular part of my life. Now when I put on mascara, my kids say “Mommy looks funny!”
I could have written this post, so funny! My fashion reinassance began when I went back to work after “mommy-hood” as well. Instead of embracing it, my husband accused me of fooling around! I guess he prefers makeup-less and frumpy “activewear”
Oh, I was just thinking this at church tonight. I look like hell . always. Even when I’m supposedly “dressed up” for church. I used to be cute, honest, I have a picture I carry in my wallet as proof.
Hilarious, and so stinkin’ true.