Melina and I headed out to Goodwill the other day, in search of some pants for work. Those of you who read this blog religiously--this is NOT a shopping for pants moment. I really need some new (or used) pants since I'll be teaching at the community college and subbing in the school district come fall. I love our local Goodwill; I usually find some great finds there. My favorite pants have come from that store and so has one of Melina's most-worn dresses (and she did the wearing).
But pants aren't all I need. Sometimes (not always or even often) I like to wear a dress or skirt. So I thought, Sure...let's see what they have. I found a couple skirts, added them to my stack, and walked into the dressing room.
Once inside the box, Melina became the best helper ever. She took the hanger off the article of clothing, handed me the item, and then stood back and watched until she gave me a thumbs up or a thumbs down. We made it through the two shirts and three pairs of pants and then, when I put on one of the skirts, everything came to a stop.
I didn't really like the look of it, but asked Melina for her input. I thought she'd say yes or no, but instead, she wrinkled up her nose. "Mom, it's okay to wear meh colors for pants, but not for skirts." I looked down at the color of the skirt. Beige? Taupe? Some mix of light gray and light brown that I can't describe? Whatever the color, the skirt didn't look great against my legs. She was right. The best word for it was meh. And maybe she was on to something. I've always said she has more fashion sense in her little finger than I do in my whole body. Maybe meh colors are out for skirts this season.
I thought maybe Melina would talk more about her reasoning for saying no to the skirt, but I quickly realized she was ready to move on. She'd made known her opinion in as few words as possible, and now, it was time to put my own clothes back on and get ready to go.
But as I pulled on my shirt and shorts and adjusted my purse against my chest, I looked at the little blond cherub standing close to the mirror and marveled, again, at how someone could look so much like I did at that age, and be nothing close to who I was in terms of personality.