If you want to be a fashionable middle schooler, all you need to do is shop from a rag bag. Every time I roll up to pick my daughter up from school, I do a double-take. Half the students are wearing ratty pajama pants, and the other half are in jeans so torn the kids look like they were attacked by bears.
My daughter is solidly in the “attacked by bears” camp. She’ll lounge in flannel pajama bottoms at home, but wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them at school. Instead, she dons ripped jeans, her trusty Dr. Martens boots and a oversized “grandpa” sweater, plus a black face mask. What’s a grandpa sweater? It’s exactly what it sounds like. Picture a ridiculously oversized sweater that a grandpa might have worn in 1990, and then pair it with baggy, torn jeans. Boom! You’re ready for middle school. Hopefully your Chromebook is charged.
“I know I sound like a stereotypical middle-aged mom,” I told my daughter on a recent shopping trip at Bellevue Square. “But it burns me to spend good money on ripped jeans.” If it was just a couple of light tears near the knees, I’d be fine with them, but no, the popular jeans are practically shredded.
“Everyone’s wearing them like this,” she told me. “And this pair from Abercrombie fits me really well.”
I looked at the price tag and and wished I hadn’t seen it. Admitting defeat, I handed over my credit card and the sales clerk rang up the purchase. Mainly, I wanted to get out of the mall, but also I knew it was hypocritical of me to judge middle school fashion too harshly, especially since the styles were inspired by my own teenaged year.
After we arrived home, I deep dived into my sweater drawer and pulled out a v-neck wool sweater from 1990. It had a classic navy blue, red and gray color scheme. The only reason I still had it was because — ahem — it was ridiculously oversized when I bought it as a 13-year-old and it still fits. Despite its age, the sweater was in perfect condition having been protected by cedar sachets for more than three decades.
“What do you think about this?” I asked my daughter, as I held the sweater up for her inspection. Although not technically a grandpa sweater, it was from Ambercombie & Fitch.
“Wow,” she said.
“Would you like it? Is this something you’d wear?”
She nodded. “Yes. Thanks!”
To this day, she has not worn it. But my feelings aren’t hurt, because I don’t understand most of the outfits she puts together anyway. The only thing I do know for certain is that it’s too bad I didn’t save my dad’s sweaters from 1990. Those would have been popular.
Jennifer Bardsley publishes books under her own name and the pseudonym Louise Cypress. Find her online on Instagram @jenniferbardsleyauthor, on Twitter @jennbardsley or on Facebook as Jennifer Bardsley Author. Email her at teachingmybabytoread@gmail.com.
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