I’m having a hard time putting into words exactly why this makes me sad:
Premium jeans, for instance, an item coveted by Maisy Gellert, a third grader living in Westchester County, N.Y. “I’m very particular,” Maisy said. “Sevens are the only jeans I actually wear.”
Like many girls her age, her fashion antennae are finely tuned, her standards exacting, her desires well defined. “I like the stuff that’s in style, like leggings and shorts, tank tops and flip-flops,” she said, promptly adding to that list: “Gap camisoles that are white, because I can wear them with just anything. Puma sneakers, pink and gray — I’m on my third pair — and ballet slippers, but those are hard to find for my size foot.”
Now, I can be a clothes horse as much as the next person, and admittedly I do like to go shopping from time to time. So I don’t think that fashion in and of itself, or seeking physical beauty in and of itself, is a bad thing. I would have far fewer problems with the fashion and beauty industries if partaking in them (or at least making note of them, and attempting to follow the rules they set) was truly optional for women. But it’s not. And I do think it’s a bad thing when women are the “beauty class” — that is, the group in society who are valued primarily for their physical appearance, and grow up with the idea that the quest for beauty should be a primary goal in their lives. I have a problem with the system that punishes women who opt out of this quest, or who, despite their efforts, aren’t perceived as conventionally attractive because of their age, race, body type, or some other reason.
I have a big problem when the fashion industry sets its sights on little girls.
To the delight — or consternation — of their elders, the conventional sugar-and-spice girls’ style formula is laced these days with sass, the clothes not so much sexy as candidly provocative in their mimicry of grown-up fare. Pink smock dresses, T-shirts emblazoned with Tinkerbells and easy-fitting overalls are giving way to skinny jeans, flounced miniskirts and fur-trimmed shrugs just like mommy’s. And second graders are swapping their knee socks for leggings.
In the cosmetics world, too, “it’s all about fashion right now,” said Marcy Gonzales, the brand manager of Fing’rs, which sells preglued press-on nails, patterned with stars and kitties, to appeal to girls who, she said, “have the latest ‘it’ bags and rhinestone-covered Sidekicks.” Sales of preglued nails for children are up 13 percent this year, Ms. Gonzales said.
Playing dress-up is one thing, and when I was in elementary school I loved to play with press-on nails and make-up. And I was allowed to. At home. With my friends. For fun, not for daily wear. And I sure as heck didn’t have a Sidekick, rhinestone-covered or not.
While boys’ clothes are certainly also marketed, they seem to be more targeted at wealthy parents (or, to be more specific, wealthy mothers) who want to dress their sons up like preppy little Ken dolls. Girls’ clothes, on the other hand, seem to be marketed to mothers and daughters alike, reinstating the girl-as-consumer mold, and further tying girls’ identities to how they present themselves physically, and what they have verses what they do.
Hillary Offenberg, on the other hand, imposes few rules and is more amused than concerned about her daughter’s precociousness. Four-year-old Carly Gulotta “has a mind of her own,” said Ms. Offenberg, a wholesale florist in New York.
Not without a touch of pride, she added: “My daughter loves everything that is in fashion right now, like wearing dresses as little smock tops over pants, or mixing polka dots and plaids.
“She got dressed by herself this morning in fuchsia tights. She said, ‘Mommy, even if you say no, I’m still wearing it.’ ”
“You pick your battles,” Ms. Offenberg said, heaving an indulgent sigh. “Carly is a pushy broad.”
Now, if there’s one thing I like in life, it’s pushy broads. But this little girl is four. And while I’m a big fan of letting kids dress themselves and express their creativity through fuchsia tights, grooming them to be slaves to fashion before they’re in kindergarten just seems a little troubling (there’s also a picture of four-year-old Carly getting a pedicure at a fancy Manhattan salon).
Juliet B. Schor, the author of “Born to Buy: The Commercialized Child and the New Consumer Culture” (Scribner), ascribes children’s heightened acquisitiveness partly to increasingly aggressive marketing. “The very insidious thing about this,” she said, “is that kids get the message that they need this product — whether it’s a sugared cereal or the latest fashion trend — to be O.K., to be cool. That is potentially interfering with their intrinsic sense of self. Kids from the very beginning are learning that your self-worth depends on what you have and how the market evaluates you.”
I think this is key, and I would further argue that this consumerism is aimed far more at girls than at boys (although boys certainly get their fair share too). I’d like to see kids outside running around, playing sports, creating artwork, dancing, or doing about 100 other things before shopping for kiddie couture. I’d like to see kids develop their identities based on their interests and passions, not on what brand of jeans they’re wearing. I’d just like to see four-year-olds be allowed to be four.
Thoughts?