The Art of the Costume Change
Mood:
a-ok
Topic: Audrey
It's the right of every starlet: A wardrobe ample enough to allow for an array of costume changes. The opening line of Hannah Montana's TV show theme song states it best: You get a limo out front, hottest styles, every shoe, every color...
Well, bring on the limo, people. The Blond Kid family now presents Audrey. She can sing, she can karate chop, but for the most part she's a bit like Paris Hilton: She doesn't really have to do anything but look good. And for Audrey, this over-the-top style seems to be bleeding into what is otherwise the very normal, non-glam life of a first grader.
The other night before leaving for music class, Audrey put on a sensible duo of brown capri pants and long-sleeved cotton tee. I'm so used to my daughter carrying a bigger purse than mine that I didn't question the pink bag slung over Audrey's shoulder as we boarded the van. Upon arriving at the parking lot of our destination, I opened the back passenger door to find Audrey in a black sparkly skirt and satin faux-bead tank top. "What on earth...?!?" I began. "I changed in the van," Audrey explained (as if I were blind). "But why....?" She answered only with a flip of her golden hair and a bouncy entrance into music class. She spent the hour twirling and flourishing to the shrill music of 6-year-olds playing "Hot Cross Buns" on their recorders. Anything can become a show, after all.
Audrey has been mastering the art of the costume change for years. At an early age she was raiding my closet, clomping around in others' shoes, and breaking into packed suitcases, sometimes wearing a week's worth of vacation clothing all at once. In pre-K at age 4 she was known as the girl with the crazy outfits; there was no talking her out of bright skirts paired with rainbow-striped tights and ill-matched shoes. We couldn't get the kid to wear a pair of pants until one glorious day last September, the phy ed teacher sent a note begging us to quell the long, flowy skirts on gym day. Thank you, Mrs Woita, for giving us the gift of the non-parental request.
But over time it wasn't enough just to dress with style. She had to frequently change the style. All of Audrey's play dates and sleepovers have born the hallmark trait of Audrey parading around in one princess dress per fifteen minutes, followed by a full pile on her closet floor of discarded costumes. But it isn't just sleepovers; if she has more than one thing to do during the day, each event needs its own outfit. She ritually changes her clothes after coming home from school, even if she isn't going anywhere until bedtime. I've seen Audrey dress herself for church, come home from church and change into another Sunday-style dress for the remainder of the day. We don't get it either. But it sure is amounting to a lot of laundry.
Audrey's eye for clothing comes in stark contrast to, well, the rest of us. My outfit of choice is typically jeans and a t-shirt, usually a Leinenkuegel's shirt at that, and almost all my dress clothes are so consistently either brown or black that I've long been the subject of my husband's "funeral wardrobe" teasing. Musicians, by the way, often do wear black. And yes, I do sing a the occasional funeral. So there. As for Jason, he doesn't even OWN dress clothes; he regularly attends church in jeans and hiking boots. His one pair of khaki pants sees daylight once per year at the Pheasants Forever annual banquet.
As for Audrey's brothers, Tobey will wear anything depicting reptiles or farm equipment. His wardrobe changes are limited to pajamas at bed time and the rare mishap of not making it to the toilet. And Hunter. He's ten, and I *still* have to lay his clothes out for him every morning. I'm not sure he even knows where his closet is.
So that we got ourselves a little fashion maven is somewhat curious, but Audrey's going off on her own tangents has long ceased to be surprising. Yet, I couldn't help but roll my eyes this morning as she went streaking naked through the living room this morning to her school folder to see if today's agenda included gym. It did. But as she pulled her jeans out of her (fully-stocked) drawer, she was asking, "Mom, how about I put this skirt in my backpack for after gym, and then I can change in the bathroom..." Girl, you've got to be kidding me. First grade doesn't require costume change. That is, unless you're Audrey.
Posted by Amy
at 8:32 AM CDT
happy
d'oh
crushed out
silly
incredulous
special