I'm not afraid to admit that I ask my six year old daughter for fashion advice on a regular basis.
Lily's favorite show is Launch My Line or Project Runway. Her favorite time of day is when she stands at her closet and creates her own masterpiece. I love watching her expression as she does this. It's the same expression I get when I see a cupcake shop.
She notices if I am wearing something new and points out all the little details. But then realizes that I went shopping without her and scolds me.
But my favorite is when she says, "Mom, you are rockin' those boots." Because I am 42 and I need to hear I am still capable of rockin' something.
She is our in-house stylist.
Yes, I am living with a mini Rachel Zoe.
The other night she was pouring over the Boden catalogue, trying to put together her spring wardrobe. She tore out the pages with items she wanted and handed them to me.
"Mom, I TOTALLY need these things."
"OK. I'll take a look."
"No, really. I TOTALLY need these."
"We'll see, Lily."
"PUHLEEESE Mom. I'll give you a kiss AND a dollar."
Apparently, she's become aware of my love language.
But I noticed a common theme as I examined her choices. Something that usually doesn't happen with her. Everything she picked was shades of black and gray.
People, New York is really rubbing off on her.
Which means I can breathe a bit easier, knowing she will NEVER look like this.