Every time I go on a shopping trip with my family, I dread choosing clothes to buy. My taste in clothes and my mother’s taste in clothes aren’t drastically different, but not exactly similar either. I tend to go for oversized T-shirts and skinny jeans, which my mother dismisses as soon as my hand touches the fabric. My mother, when choosing for me, goes for nicer (when I say nicer, I mean a bit more expensive than I would normally go for when spending on myself) clothes that will inevitably look right on me (I am my mother’s daughter, after all). I envy my mother’s ability to choose the right thing every time, and end up sulking every time my choices are shot down, even if I am happen to be holding a mud-coloured shirt that I know I will never wear.
Last time I went shopping with my family, my mother picked out a tunic for me, ignoring my cries of delight every time I saw a sale tag. (I’m such a sucker for sales. That must be why my wardrobe is full of items I bought two years ago, but haven’t “gotten around to wearing yet”). I frowned at the price tag (33 whole British pounds. And full price! I nearly died from shock), but tried it on anyway.
I loved it. The smooth fabric of it made me look more elegant than I normally do, which isn’t a hard task, since I practically live in jeans. The pattern of it made me look a bit more grown up, which is a good thing, because I sometimes get mistaken for a 15-year-old (I’m 17). It’s such a beautiful tunic, I know I’ll wear it loads, and it will not, and I repeat NOT, languish in my wardrobe.
Sad thing is, the very next day after I bought it, it had 20% taken off the full price. Grr.