Things I Wish My Mother Had Told Me
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My favourite tabloid pictures are of fashionable celebrities and their equally chichi kids. Think of Katie Holmes and Suri Cruise, the impossibly good-looking mum-girl duo who can launch a thousand fashion blogs. Or lately Victoria Beckham and her youngest cutie, Harper Seven. A recent picture showed Harper on dad David Beckham's lap, with Anna 'Icy' Wintour cooing at her helplessly. Angelina Jolie and her team are photographed in every developing nation. While Jennifer Garner looks far more modish with her kids than she does with Ben 'Batman' Affleck.
Mothers and daughters are actually the relationships that are made in heaven. Our mums are our first fashion icons. We dress to look like them. We slip into their stilettos as little girls, swipe their lipsticks when no one's looking, covet their Chorosch saris, Elizabeth Arden perfumes and bejewelled minaudieres as soon as we are teens. Almost every fashion designer will tell you his interest in dressing up women came from watching his mother at her dressing table.
To stretch from Dr Freud, our fashion choices are often shaped by our mums. Sometimes they are shaped because of them. Sometimes we veer in entirely opposite directions. In many cases, mothers are daughters are relationships made in hell. Such is the case with my mother and me. Of course, I love my mother and promise to be as dutiful as is possible. But she is singularly my least favourite dresser.
She adores colour, the brighter the more joyous. I protested her loud tastes by filling my wardrobe with blacks and whites for most of my teenage years. I even wore a matte grey lehenga for a family wedding once, thanks to a nod from my ever-spoiling grandmum.
My mother can't have enough shimmer in her clothes. I prefer subtler embroideries, or more western and stylised cuts. "You don't know what's in fashion," she still reprimands me, despite my decade-and-a-half in the business. While I refuse to wear what everyone's wearing.
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