In L.A., one clothing store constantly runs an ad that has the owner of the store saying, at the end, "You are going to love the way you look. I guarantee it." His testimonial implies that buying his clothes will make you feel good about yourself.
Now, I like this particular clothier, and I even shop there, but on closer inspection, you might begin to sense that he's implying you couldn't possibly love the way you look right now. If you did, you wouldn't need his clothes. All advertising aims to make the same point: not only is their stuff good, but your stuff is worthless.
Of course, most of us don't go out and buy a new car every six months, and we don't throw out all our clothing and buy a whole new wardrobe every time we see a Gap ad on TV. But it's hard to look at so much stuff on television and not wish that we could somehow afford it all so that we could look as happy as the paid actors in the commercials. If it's hard for us to overcome such corporate induced urges, imagine how much harder it is for our kids, who live by the opinions of their peers.
Almost every parent has endured the trying task of back-to-school shopping, during which we discover that our children have extremely fixed - and expensive - ideas about what their classmates will deem acceptable. They wouldn't be caught dead in the old, old hand-me-downs their older siblings wore not two years ago.
No matter that your own wardrobe looks virtually the same as when you moved out of your parents' house. From your kids' point of view, fashion becomes a life-or-death issue.
Kids are merciless with each other. Wearing the wrong jeans to school can label you an outcast before the first bell rings. I amtalking from personal experience,my friend! My mother used to dress me in handmade suits that served only to get me beat up on the way home from school every day.
Home-stitched copies of Little Lord Fauntleroy suits, to be exact. One of my least favorite was a three-piece, burgundy, crush-velvet job, complete with ruffled shirt and a big, big, big bow tie! My dear mother, I later found out, was "crazy like a fox."
She and my father probably saved my life, if not my butt. Maybe they dressed me funny, but they sure instilled the right values in me. Which accounts for why I nowappreciate what they did, but not then. Groups don't succeed, individuals do, and my parents were intent on growing an individual.
At eight, I didn't want to wear those outfits. I wanted to wear the cool threads I saw on TV, in the stores, and on the kids who knew how to put some money together, one way or another. Yes, kids know what they "have to have," and it doesn't come cheap.
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