When it comes to handing down hang-ups and obsessions, my love for beautiful but slightly impractical shoes is the one I worry the least about. A girl’s got to love her shoes, no?
This is what happens when you are too eager to keep up with your fashion forward baby daughter. A classic case of being lured into confidence and carried away by the psychological warfare that is used and mastered by Selfridges to sweet-talk you into buy things.
Thanks to Liz at Violet Posy, not only did I make it in time to the Gap to admire Stella McCartney’s cooperation with the high street brand, I even hunted down one of the one-piece sweaters for little L.
In the six months since little L’s birth, I have barely been separated from my precious baby girl. There have been about ten evenings where I nipped out for an hour or two, leaving Big M behind to keep a close eye on the baby monitor. An easy task, as little L usually doesn’t wake until the wee hours, once mummy has tucked her in and kissed her good night. Then there have been about six times she spent an hour in the gym crèche, guarded by the lovely Jane and her staff. But all of a sudden, little L decided not to like staying there anymore, and Met Mum had to be called to her rescue via the intercom. So there it went, my tiny bit of me-time.
In a recent comment-conversation, the lovely Rose said: ‘Oh I envy little L, I imagine she has a great wardrobe of clothes!’ I had to think about this, because a) yes, she does (thanks to her generous grandma, little L is sporting Ugg Boots, pink Ralph Lauren corduroys and a white Petit Bateau hooded jacket in the picture above) and b) I envy her myself, because she’s better dressed than me. Realising this kind of hurt, but it’s the truth and it’s time to face it: I am a slummy mummy.