She gets major credit for two reasons. First, she always let me dress exactly how I liked, without pushing any kind of fashion agenda. Even when I was small, I could wear whatever made me happy, even if it meant letting me out of the house looking like a furry bunch of grapes:
But look how happy I was! You can't really see the detailing, but those shorts mostly involved orange flowers with puffy paint accents over black leopard spots. Yes. Those boots weren't just for riding either. Perfect anytime! And the red socks peeking out of the boots were a crucial part of the ensemble. If the socks were missing, I would change into something else. Probably striped belted shorts with a polka dot blouse.
My mom, on the other hand, has always managed to look lovely, even in her formative years. She has never worried much about make-up [except for the occasional dramatic lipstick, which I have fully embraced], believes in the power of a bold accessory [I have taken that to mean red satin hair bows or hot pink heels; she is more of a silk scarf or beautiful brooch person], and a red dress is always optimal. Observe:
Floral print romper while growing up in Saudi Arabia. Ahead of her time!
Now, for comparisons sake, here is my mom when she was approximately the age I am now:
And here is what I look like at approximately the age I am now:
Clearly, I still have some work to do.
My mother, however, is still willing to be seen with me in public, no matter what I'm wearing. As long as I'm happy! Thanks, Mom.