Pedis Yes, Pinstripes No

Ax agreed to try on a pinstriped shirt. My mother Kiki clapped with delight when she saw him in it. “You look like an Italian movie star!” She squealed. He looked great.

“Enjoy it now,” he said, with devilish glee, modeling for us.

“Ax, the girls will love it!” I said, throwing the hook. Kiki and I, still high on our new pink pedis, hoping to make Ax a better accessory. He wasn’t having it.

“They’ll like me if I stand in front of them,” he replied, pleased with his own newfound swagger.

I shouldn’t have given him so much unconditional love all these years. I shouldn’t have told him how brilliant and handsome he was. I shouldn’t have let him be Gaston in the 6th grade play. I shouldn’t have allowed his #alwaysathleisurealwaystiedye aesthetic to go this far.

Where did this 12-year-old get so much confidence? How is he so okay with his mother and grandmother wanting him to dress differently? I blame myself. I never trained him to feel shame about his looks or his fashion choices.

The pinstripes look good, really good. The baby blue linen shirt he tried next was also a clear winner. Casual cafe fabulous.

“You can get the shirts if you want to, but I won’t wear them,” he said, calmly, firmly. No heat, just truth. “If I need to dress up I’ll do jacket over tie-dye.” Where did he get these negotiating skills? Where did he get the idea that jacket-over-tie dye is dressy?

So I got the dress shirts, and I’ll let him know they’re coming in my suitcase with my flowy linens and back-up black leggings, and we’ll see what happens. Maybe in Europe he’ll decide he wants to expand his sartorial playlist. Maybe he won’t. I’m gonna keep going.

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