The Red Dress

Recently a cousin sent a beautiful red dress for N. It was shoulder-less and pleated with a tight waistband opening out to a large swirling skirt. It had a dainty sash that went over one shoulder. It looked so pretty on N except, she didn’t look like my baby daughter anymore – she looked like someone shrunk a model on a ramp.

Image: www.studentshow.com

All babies are darlings and baby girls, even more so, because you can dress them up in the prettiest of clothes. We are spoilt for choice when it comes to fluffy frocks and hair bands and skirts and shoes and whatnot. While it is a pleasure to dress up a child, I don’t indulge myself usually and keep it simple for N. I also try not to excessively cue gender in her clothes. She wears a mix of basic frocks/ shirts/ t-shirts teamed with shorts/ pants. It’s the same for any special occasion – except the clothes are then a little brighter and newer.  So it’s quite perplexing for me to see the new trends in children’s clothes.

At a birthday party a couple of months ago, the girls were all in “dresses” and wore impeccable makeup. They were self-conscious but carried themselves like coquettish young women – perching delicately on tables, flicking their hair in practised abandon, flirting with the (clueless) boys.   It would have been sweet if they were seventeen year olds. But they were all seven. And their mothers watched from the sidelines, faces shining with pride, that their daughters looked so good, that they had arrived in life, attending such posh parties.

Yesterday, there was this little angel at the mall, wanting to sit near my daughter. She wore a noodle strap floor-length dress and heels. Her hair was pulled up fashionably in a high knot with curls falling all over her face which was fully ‘made-up’ with winged eye lashes, mascara, lipstick – the works. The child walked gently on her heels, picking up her dress daintily, while her proud mother looked on. I was fascinated by her delicate beauty and heartbroken at the same time. She couldn’t have been more than three years old. What was even more horrifying was that the family was so trusting. I was trying to take a picture when the child sat near N but hesitated a moment wondering if they’ll mind if I took a picture then, with their child in the frame. But her grandmother called out to the child, pointing to me, “See see! Picture! Look at the camera!” 

These are not just one-off incidents but increasingly, the norm. On the one hand, there is rising pedophilia and other sick crimes against children that attempt to destroy their childhood. On the other hand, there are well-meaning people who inadvertently destroy their children’s childhood with their personal aspirations.

What is happening here?

Yes, we struggled hard, competed against the odds and made it in life. We have a house, car, money in the bank, a career that’s going up and up and a social circle to share all this with. We ‘subtly’ flaunt our material possessions that signal our social status. We flaunt our latest gadget – an expensive smartphone, gaming system. We flaunt our tastefully done homes – new décor, antique furniture. We flaunt our clothes – designer labels, chic outfits. We flaunt our investments – blue chip stock, smart buys. We flaunt our prize deals and fat bonuses. All OK so far, in fact pretty standard for the forever-aspiring, forever-middle-class. But then, we flaunt our children – dressed to perfection, groomed to perfection, extension of our perfect lives.  Guess what, it’s NOT OK!

Your kids are not a miniature version of you. They are not your possessions. They are not your identity. They are not proxy for your accomplishments in life. They are not display stands of your social success.  They are not showpieces to be discussed over drinks and dinner. They are not tools for one-upmanship. Your kids’ clothes do not have to reflect your own sense of style and your social aspirations. They’re not part of your competitions with your peers in your advertising-conditioned mind – “how come her clothes are cooler than mine” and automatically “how come her kids look smarter than mine do.”

I rant because I see kids dressed wrong all the time. They are dressed like miniature ramp-walkers, sometimes street-walkers. It breaks my heart to see a beautiful, innocent young child totally unaware that she is dressed to look way beyond her years. Why would you want a 4-year old in stilettos? Why would you want a 6-year old in blood-red lips and tights? Mind you, I am not against stilettos or lipstick – if worn by those who can carry everything else that is associated with them including the male gaze. But please don’t objectify little children and make them clotheshorses at an age when they are vulnerable and impressionable. Don’t confuse them with mixed signals of baby-girl-woman at an age when their identities are being formed. Don’t make them carry social baggage beyond their years.

Fueling this madness, are the retailers of children’s clothing. I get emails from several of them, exhorting me to ‘dress your daughter in style’ and not miss the ‘latest fashion in dresses for 2-3 year olds.’ Thanks, but no thanks, I mutter.

In my view, makeup and clothes are social masks and defence mechanisms that get more complex as we grow and help us “face” society – that need to be minimal and nonintrusive for children so they can engage with the world naturally, fearlessly, unselfconsciously. I am sure there is some scientific evidence somewhere that would say that excessive focus on clothes would lead to a reduced sense of self. There goes, one hundred years of feminist struggle, expended by credit card on adult dresses in baby size. 

I know this is a sensitive topic. ‘What’s the harm, it’s just some fun,’ one might say. But there’s a thin line between fun and fashion. Keep it fun. Don’t aim for fashion. Let your kids be messy, let them wear age-appropriate clothes – meaning, kid stuff and not adult dresses in miniature.

Please let them be kids.

PS: The red dress? I thanked my cousin sincerely and explained to her why N couldn’t wear it.


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Do you agree? Do tell me what you think in comments. Thank you for reading.