While trying on nursing nightwear yesterday (undoubtedly some of the frumpiest clothing in existence), I overheard two teenage girls talking in front of the large mirror in the fitting room.
Girl 1: Amy Byer is very petite, so she designs her clothes for shorter girls.
Girl 2: Uh huh.
Girl 1: They're cut so that they look right on someone who's not very tall.
Girl 2: (nothing)
Girl 1: Anyway, Amy Byer is not a slutty designer. She designs very classy stuff. It's not supposed to be slutty looking.
Girl 2: Right.
Girl 1: (pause) So I think what I'm going to do is just bring my mom here, and point out this outfit.
Man did that bring back memories! I don't think I ever spent time inventing rationalizations about petite designers (althought Amy Byer may very well be petite), but I certainly do remember wanting clothes that my mom considered way too trampy. I looked at myself in the mirror, and saw myself, now 21 and wearing a long floral nightgown cut so that my infant son has easy access to his middle-of-the-night meals, and realized that a) whoa! has my life changed since I was 13, b) how ironic it is that now that I pay for my own clothes, I buy things my mother would have been thrilled to buy, and c) I am SO GLAD that looking trampy is no longer a priority for me.