Mommy can I pick out your necklace today?

Mama, can you wear that shirt – the colorful one with flowers?

Mommy, don’t wear those shoes – wear these high ones. They’re fancy.

My sense of fashion is, shall we say, unrefined. I am more hippie than haute couture, more shabby than chic. I am infinitely more comfortable in Birkenstocks, jeans and a t-shirt (or PJ’s) than pretty much anything else.

As you may imagine, this makes being a person who works in an office setting a bit of a challenge. I actually have to be presentable every. single. day. And jeans are not a part of the accepted uniform at an institution of higher learning – at least not for staff. If I were a tweed-jacket-wearing-pipe-smoking-PhD-professor I might be able to pair those items with jeans and get away with it. Alas, I am not. So, I have to get dressed.

My six-year-old daughter, on the other hand, is a fashionista. She can create the most amazing outfits out of different pieces that in my mind shouldn’t even be in the same closet. She has always been this way, and it used to terrify me. I am learning to embrace it.

The first time she tried to dress me for work I giggled a little, rolled my eyes and let her do it. Imagine my shock when later that day I received not one, not two, but THREE compliments on my appearance. I quickly let everyone know my daughter was responsible, just in case they were just patronizing me. Turns out they weren’t.

Now when my daughter asks me to wear something specific I fight my inner hippie and I do it, knowing that the way she sees my closet is obviously very different from the way I see it, and I kind of prefer her point of view. Today I was stumped about what shoes to wear and asked for her help.

These shoes don’t work with this do they Emma?

Nope. Wear those high ones. They’ll work.

And I did. And they do.