Self-Made Mom

Dear Emily bag,

It’s been a long year since I first received you as a present for Mother’s Day.  I coveted you, as I saw you on many a friend and celebrity’s arm.  When I used you I was giddy. You looked like a purse, yet you were waterproof, well-insulated and had many a pocket that I happily filled.

It was unfortunate when things started to go wrong early on in our relationship.  I don’t know why, but all of a sudden your strap started to rip and fray. I tried to mend and glue you back together, but it didn’t work.  So I had to take you back.  I waited a month for your replacement, ready to start anew.  However, your cousin of same size, shape and color treated me the same.  Her strap broke and her inside pocket leaked. Disappointed, I perservered. For $150, I figured I could make our relationship last. I stuck by you through wet wallets and soggy diapers.

But two months ago, things got worse and I returned you once more.  The storekeeper at my favorite store gave me crazy eyes for bringing you in again, but she couldn’t dismiss my arguments of shoddy craftsmanship.  By a stroke of luck, and maniacal comparison tests, there was yet another new version of you available for me at the store to take home.  You had been revamped.  Different stitching on the strap! Better buckles and latches! The storekeeper and I hugged and parted ways. I hoped not to have to traipse through her glass doors again.

Now, though, I have to reject you once and for all.  Your third cousin, once-removed, in pewter is now in tatters. Your strap, like your relatives’ is ripping, and your beautiful, once shiny and pristine body is now covered with flaky scars. 

Some things don’t look good “broken in.”

I saw this happen to my friends’ pewter Emily bags, but I never thought that it would afflict me as well.  But it has, and now it is the final straw. I must reject you, Storksak Emily bag, for good.  As much as it pains my fashion-savvy self, I must turn to other brands. Perhaps they can help me find a new bag in time for Mother’s Day because Emily, we’re through.

Sincerely,

Self-Made Mom

I pride myself on being fashionable.  I mean, I’ve dedicated at least three categories on this blog to fashion.  At work, I would get a tingly feeling inside when someone complemented my outfits.  I remember clearly (ok, it was only a week ago) on my last day when my coworker said, “we are now losing one of the office’s fashion icons.” (Ah, how memory gets enhanced over time.)

For me, keeping up with the fashion at work was easy.  I could get away with three-inch-heeled boots one day and flats and leggings the next.  At work, I could be creative, inventive and forward with my outfits.  Of course, having a toddler or being pregnant does mess with fashion-forwardness at times (I will never be able to live with the fact that I wore pink Uggs to work one day. UGH.), but most times, I felt confident that I looked the part of sophisticated, savvy PR professional.  Just ask the Mary Kay lady.

However, now that I’m in the throes of SAHM-land, I’m feeling like a fashion flunkie.  I can’t find my groove.  Last week, I showed up to pre-pre school in my sweaty yoga clothes.  Yesterday, I donned hanging pearl earrings, wide-leg jeans and platform boots. I can’t get it straight.  Look too dressy and people whisper “why is she wearing that to class?” Don’t wash my hair before I see my school acquaintances, and I feel the need to overcompensate with statements like “oh Junior was a nightmare this morning.” 

Actually, everyone overcompensates for unwashed hair, I’m finding.  (Beauty tip: unwashed hair actually looks better on most people than freshly-blown. Good for me, bad for my husband.)  I’m not totally innocent in petty banter, I’ll admit. I remember guffawing inwardly (and to my friend) when I saw one of those super well-dressed moms show up to school in come-hither black patent high-heeled boots.  I mean, they were fabulous boots, but do they belong in Temple at 10 am on a Tuesday?

I’m not sure, but what I do know is that I have now found my source for fashion salvation as an SAHM: Lululemon.  More commonly known as the yuppie moms’ uniform.

I had discovered the brand a few months ago when I picked up a pair of flared yoga pants on heavy discount.  But I assumed that these pants were meant to be worn only with sneakers to and from the gym.  Embarassed to go outside the confines of a treadmill in them, I’ve stored my Lululemon pants at the bottom of my drawer for the chance to actually break a sweat in them.

But while attending playgroup this week, I spotted another mom wearing the special horseshoe symbol and immediately thought, wait! I can wear wick-away fabric and look fashionable again.  I figured out how I could get my fashion mojo back.

The symbol that can set you free.

I immediately staked out my plan.  I had a slot of time yesterday where I could escape to mommy nirvana: the new Lululemon store in Lincoln Park.  I couldn’t hide my excitement when I opened the door and entered 2500 square feet of sweatpant heaven.

The colors! The feel of the swishy nylon-like material between my hands! The sale prices! I was overwhelmed with glee. Of course, because it was 2 in the afternoon on a Thursday, no more than seven Lululemon-clad princesses offered their expertise and service.

“I wear my technical fabric way more than the cotton ones.”

“That sweatshirt even looks great with your jeans.”

I don’t know if they were just trying to appease my over-dressed appearance (I was still wearing the dangling pearl earrings when I ventured to the store), but I kept asking for sizes and they obliged. Of course after trying on the sale items, none of which looked good on me, I settled for some wide-leg brown pants and an off-white sweatshirt. (Because off-white goes great with toddler.) It was way more money than I wanted to spend, but no one said looking great comes cheaply.

I put them on this morning and felt whole again.  Until I saw a mom in soccer class this morning wearing the exact same thing. I may look fashionable, but no one said I would look original.  At least there’s safety in numbers.

Originality is overrated. And expensive.

Tag: Lululemon, mom fashion

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Cross-posted on Chicago Moms Blog