Children's Clothes

01.04.2011

Why are toddlers’ clothes so damn cute?

My Skin's Color Doesn't Equal Hate

06.23.2010

I’m going to slightly stray from the topic of children today although it meshes with previous themes of prejudice, hatred, judgment, etc. I wouldn’t use such strong words to describe what happened to me but, nonetheless, it’s in that general direction.

I was invited to attend a clothing sale and, wanting to support entrepreneurs, I worked in my schedule to attend the sale. It was taking place in a very tiny place near downtown Los Angeles (I will refrain from saying exactly where) and I was very excited to go.

I greeted the woman who invited me and we had a very warm exchange. She showed me around and as I got started more people started piling in. Suddenly, I realized that I stuck out like a sore thumb but that didn’t bother me because that often happens to me and, plus, I live in Los Angeles, so whatever.

But what started to make me feel uncomfortable is the behavior towards me by some of the patrons. I understand that I’m not one of them and that I don’t speak their language, but what really bothered me is the reverse discrimination, the blatant assumption that because I’m white, I automatically dislike them.

I was standing looking at some dresses when a woman came and stood directly in front of me forcing me to take a ½ step to the side and continue looking at the dresses at an angle. Now, you may think, “Why didn’t you say something?” Well, yes, that would be easy, but I’m horrible at defending myself and, already feeling out of place and outnumbered, I resorted to staying silent.

A few minutes later, I noticed these cute pants this woman was trying on and, looking right at her (and she looking at me) I pointed to the pants and said, “Those pants are really cute.” She ignored me. It’s one thing to not understand English, but I was pointing to the damn pants with a smile on my face. I think you can put 2 and 2 together. My family used to host foreign students of all English proficiency levels for 20 years; I know how to deal with non-English speakers. This woman wanted nothing to do with me and just turned her back to me to talk to her friend.

In addition, I was also the “biggest” girl in the place. Once I picked out a few things to try on, I realized that there was only one place to try them – a communal fitting room. “Ok,” I said to myself. “I’ve changed in a communal room with guys, I can handle this.” But the problem? The only full-length mirror was outside…where all the patrons were.

Let me reiterate: I was the “biggest” girl there. You know how clothes look one way on the hangar and then completely different once they’re on? (Like barfingly gross when actually on your body? I have this happen all the time. That is why I hate shopping.)

So now I’m trying to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror in front of everyone (and not liking what I see) and it can only be a glimpse because the women who have been using the mirror for a long time wouldn’t move. And about those who were standing around (looking at me), I can only imagine what they were saying because I might not be able to understand word-for-word what they were saying, but I know when I’m being talked about.

I survived for about 45 minutes, bought a few things and quickly left.

I don’t ever expect the red carpet treatment but I was brought up to be decent to any person I meet regardless of race, religion, or looks, etc. The ethnocentric behavior that multiple cultures have only contributes to increasing tensions between groups.

I understand that each cultural group wants to “stick together.” I grew up in a Lithuanian community; I get it. But there’s a difference between taking pride in who you are and where you came from and treating that as better than everyone else. And this “holier than thou” mentality gets passed down from generation to generation and I can only hope that, one day, there will be more people who are around who look beyond the surface.

Sometimes I feel like we have to have kids in order to bring more people like that into our world.

Shopping for Kids: Gasp!

05.01.2010

Rob’s cousin’s daughter is turning 13 next week and I had resolved in my head to buy her a cute summer outfit with maybe a nice necklace or a bracelet.

I decided to visit this one kid’s store (or rather, the only store I knew) in Century City that I knew had cute clothes with a nice variety. I was armed with the sizes necessary and once I walked into the store, I immediately could tell that the clothes were going to be too small. This girl for whom I was buying is very tall and thin and is already wearing juniors sizes. So, realizing this, I had to find another store and thought, “How hard can this be?”

I don’t know if it’s the nature of the shopping mall or what, but crap was it hard! I went to Juicy Couture (at first avoiding them cause I operated under the assumption that they sold slutty clothes) but realized that apparently clothes that look like pajamas are in style now. At least, according to this company.

Then I hit J. Crew, my favorite store once before Dawson’s Creek catapulted them to popularity and they ballooned their prices (I used to buy their clothes when they were “catalog only” and you could get a great pair of pants for under $25, thank you), but apparently J. Crew doesn’t believe in juniors sizes. At least, not at this store location.

BCBG, a store that would be my favorite if I could afford it, was, well, like I just said, too expensive, so I didn’t even go in. Plus, I probably would’ve found a pair of shoes that I would want and then get depressed that I couldn’t buy them.

The other choices left were overpriced ones as well like Lucky Brand Jeans, Kate Spade and then some store’s name that I can’t even pronounce and, judging from their store display, was selling slutty clothes.

So…I went to Macy’s. They had a small juniors section and I found a cute outfit for a very reasonable price and there was peace in the world.

But, uh…what the hell? First, let me back up a sec. I always hated fashion and that was mainly because clothes never fit me. My weight is all in my thighs and finding pants, even to this day, is a larger production than I care to admit. So I learned to hate fashion and I learned to hate shopping. It’s a waste of time to me. (Even when I’m at my goal weight.) I have absolutely no idea how I’m going to clothe any child that I have. You have to fight a fashion industry that sells “sex” and “slut” to girls using pieces of synthetic cloth that costs an arm and a leg or you have to go on a serious hunt to find appropriate clothes that don’t break the bank which will put me in an even crankier mood. I wonder if life on a nudist colony would be a viable option for us…