I went on a shopping extravaganza the other day with a friend of mine. We brought along her little sister and her sister’s friend to make it kind of a “girl’s day out.” We thought the girls would be excited to have some grown up time, which they were.
The girls are both 12 going on 30. With their frilly little skirts, purse slung over shoulder, and lip gloss in place, we set off to the mall. They were so primped and fashionable, I second guessed my outfit in the mirror, hoping they wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen with me. (My fears were assuaged after I told them I bought my t-shirt at Urban Outfitters. They immediately approved. Phew- still cool.)
I have to point out, I’m not often around girls of this age. I have a young niece that’s 7 years old, but other than that, my only interaction with tweens is writing pieces about abstract girls that are being horribly influenced by an overly sexualized culture that is forcing them to grow up too fast.
Seeing it in person is a whole different ball of wax.
My friend and I walked a few steps behind, eavesdropping on the little divas as they sipped their Starbucks and “honey” and “daaaaarling”-ed each other through out the stores, discussing cute boys, accessories and outfits.
We were enjoying ourselves, jokingly holding up shirts and asking the girls what they thought, trying to make them feel important, like we would have killed for when we were their age. However, after about an hour of scathing critiques on our styles being “too Kim Kardashian” or looking like “cheap knock offs” we began to feel like we were on “What Not to Wear.” It wasn’t fun anymore.
My friend informed me this is what it feels like to be en OLD older sister as the girls discussed who would be a better kisser, Edward or Jacob. I didn’t realize 23 was suddenly so uncool.
Their maturity was still hilarious and innocent to us old folk until we looked at shoes. This was the point I became convinced I will never have children.
We plunked down while the girl’s perused a popular shoe store. Little Sister brought back something I never thought I would see in real life: high heels. Made for adults? Nope. These shoes came only in girls’ sizes.
My friend’s little sister slipped them on and proclaimed, “I’m so getting them.” The old folks exchanged looks of”‘I’m not exactly sure what to do, but I don’t think this is a good idea.”
It just wasn’t right. It didn’t look right. It made us both uncomfortable. Maybe it was the way she strutted around the store in them, or the way she turned around to check herself out from behind, but it made us uneasy. The conjunction of adorable little girl, dressed and presenting herself as a grown woman was disturbing.
“Hon, I don’t know if mom would let you get those,” my friend said, carefully.
“She wouldn’t care,” she retorted.
My friend took out her cell phone and texted The Authority.
NO WAY IN HELL was the response.
“Mom said no,” she said, cleaning it up for the young-ins.
With an eye roll, and only that, because she is a very well behaved and mature young lady, she put them back and we were on our way.
As they chattered ahead of us, about how unfair the world is and how the shoes totally aren’t a big deal, we sighed with relief that there was a mom to be our scape goat.
What happens when you are the mom, and it’s up to you to say “No” to something your child wants for reasons you just can’t quite explain? What new fashion trend are we going to have to combat with when I have children? With the way our society is going, it’s going to be ass-less chaps.
Later, I saw another 12ish girl actually wearing these heels. Everything in my being told me we had made the right decision, because she looked like a baby prostitute.
Suri Cruise? Rock ‘em. At that age, they are dress up shoes. You can buy them at Walgreens along with a feather boa and tiara. There comes an age where they are not appropriate or cute, and while it usually comes down to an initial gut reaction, a good gauge is if retailers are selling them as actual shoes.
Heels were made for a specific reason: the elongate the legs and force you to swivel your hips when you walk. They are sexy. That’s the point. Kids shouldn’t be sexy. I feel disturbed even typing “sexy” and “kids” in the same sentence.
I’m going to steal my niece and keep her in a cave. She’ll be a social outcast, and will probably end up collecting cats as an adult, but at least she won’t give me a heart attack by insisting on wearing thong underwear.
