After working in the wardrobe department in the film industry for over twelve years, I know a thing or two about fashion. One of my many jobs involved the demanding and hectic process of buying the perfect outfit for the top celebrities.
When I say perfect, I mean perfect—that authentic red 1950s dress that the director had his heart set on seeing, or that simple white t-shirt that’s actually far from simple!
I remember having 3 dozen cardigans to show Sally Fields. Jessica Alba was fanatic about her underwear, and I won’t mention any names, but I had to alter the butt of a leading man’s Boss jeans three times before he was happy. I have walked down the mall with Arnold Schwarzenegger, sat on curb talking fashion with David Bowie and even help put Will Farrell into an elf suit. All moments to remember and all dictated by fashion. 
Many people who have never worked in film often ask what it’s like to dress such important people. I often say it is similar to dressing my three year old. They know what they like and know what they want!
For almost two years, I was blissfully going about sporting my son in the cutest and trendiest of boys wear. Many of his scrapbook pictures have him in a vest, button up shirt and even a bow tie. I often enjoyed the attention he would receive from strangers who admired his clothes and thought he looked just so cute…
…until he woke up one day and had a fashion mind of his own. Suddenly I’m at work all over again, trying to reason with someone who argues, screams and throws their clothes on the floor. Like starlets in the past, I have to negotiate, coerce, and try to convince him of what to wear.
Don’t get me wrong! I love that my son has awaken to the eccentricities of fashion. He has his favorites, like the shirt that has to be washed every second day so he can wear it all the time. We went through the one t-shirt that did not come off for three days in row. He tells his friends about his favorite “jaguar” shirt, no different from the name-dropping you would hear in any make-up trailer on set. Speed McQueen, Diego and Scooby Do are his version of Prada, Vuitton and Max Mara. They all mean something, and somehow make him feel better.
Anything new needs to be introduced slowly. It sits in his closet for a while; he needs to get to know it, trust it and when one coveted favorite reaches that point where the sleeves are to short or the neck starts to fray, a new one, if lucky, might be chosen. Leaving his black rain jacket at Gramma’s has resulted in driving across town to retrieve it—no different than when Kyle McLachlan left his leather jacket in his hotel room and a team of union drivers had to go to pick it up.
I started taking my son to the mall (something we desperately try to avoid with the cast) so he could pick out what he would like. Most of my choices are rejected or outgrown by the time he’s decided to wear them. Once he has it in his mind he wants to wear something, I know no amount of showing him something else will change it. Kinda like when Lindsay Wagner arrived from LA and, although we showed her over two hundred different items, she went for something she fished out of her suitcase.
So why do we become so attached to our clothes? At three, it seems unlikely that it is taught behavior. Trying to explain that the navy blue alphabet shirt clashes with the red-and-grey Nike shorts seems far beyond his comprehension. Yet sometimes I see his glance in the mirror and his confidence grows when he dons his “race cars” shirt. Is it any different from my favorite Gucci boots or cashmere sweater?
To read more: <a href="http://www.agooblog.com">agooblog.com</a> Standing on my soapbox, JB 
Tags:
celebrities, fashion, kids clothing
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