Once upon a time I wore fashionable, quirky London/New York city finery. These have been replaced by wanna-work-out-but-can’t-quite-get-my-butt-in-gear clothing. One early morning, the tables were turned upside down in our household.
I am still rushing to finish the breakfast dishes and prepare the school lunches when I hear the following remark from the living room…
“Mmm…I don’t know about wearing those boots with cut off jeans.” A fashion opinion in my household at 7:30 am in the morning from a male? And Dash had already left for school. That left…
The Mighty Buza (aka my husband and father of our children) has dared to confront Olivia (8 years going on 18 years – fashion icon to our family) on her brand new black boots – admired by the entire third grade.
Worried for his safety, I drop the clutter of mugs and dishes in the sink and rush to his rescue, dripping suds in my wake. There…on the couch sits the Mighty Buza and his daughters – Tallulah has joined the fray – discussing the merits of boots versus kicks. Kicks, by our definition, are Converse All Star/Skechers sneakers that come in a variety of colors from simple black to sparkling bejeweled rainbows. The discussion has not come to blows and tears, just bright, articulate, bubbly conversation. As I am picking my jaw up from the sudsy floor, the Mighty Buza politely explains that kicks are a more appropriate shoe to wear with jeans – whilst boots look great with skirts and leggings. The girls are listening intently. Did you read that! “Listening intently!!” Not dismissing him like an abhorrent vegetable on their dinner plate.
Then…the Mighty Buza suggests “Let’s see a fashion show!” Off dances Olivia on the improvised catwalk performing a Parisian perfect runway show complete with twirl and contemptuous stare pose.
Tallulah: Well…I’m not going to do THAT!
Before my astounded, still sleepy eyes… up rises the Mighty Buza and demonstrates the model saunter – one step directly in front of the other, shoulders back, hips a swaying – to his youngest child.
My jaw has dropped so far down that its threatening to roll out of the door by this time. Tallulah – who is model tall and therefore naturally slouches – jumps off the couch – stands up to her full height, shoulders back and produces her own magnificent model on the catwalk swagger.
“And that’s how it’s done.” pronounces my husband “The Mighty Buza” as they each peck me on the cheek and head out the front door to school and work respectively.