Buying Designer Clothing for Children / Teenagers Discussion
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no need to buy designer clothing for children per se, buy them stylish clothing and teach them how to dress in style instead of dressing in labels. Teach them about the quality of clothing instead of indirectly telling them designer equals quality.
DosViolines
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^ Very well said 
good points guys... i have a niece who wears a ton of gymboree clothing -- similar to baby gap and it's pretty much the same to her as wearing designer labels. she had sunglasses to match every outfit and shoes etc... everyone is always saying they like her dress and how cute she looks. all she speaks about is wanting to go shopping. she's two and she knows very well that looking pretty = power. 
i just got to get her into the sandbox and mud now to save her!
i just got to get her into the sandbox and mud now to save her!
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travolta said:good points guys... i have a niece who wears a ton of gymboree clothing -- similar to baby gap and it's pretty much the same to her as wearing designer labels. she had sunglasses to match every outfit and shoes etc... everyone is always saying they like her dress and how cute she looks. all she speaks about is wanting to go shopping. she's two and she knows very well that looking pretty = power.
i just got to get her into the sandbox and mud now to save her!
Quick, pour some finger paint on her!!!
As You Like It
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Personally, I think it would be silly to buy expensive designer stuff for kids, because kids grow so fast and are generally very messy little creatures, anyhow.
I grew up in K-Mart clothes and hand-me-downs and it didn't hurt my character or self esteem any, and if/when I have kids, they'll do the same. Well, maybe some Old Navy Kids' for variety. I'll probably make a lot of their clothes, at least while they are young enough not to grizzle about not having the same brands of crap as their schoolmates. And when they get into junior-high and highschool, and start getting brand conscious, I reckon I will do the same as what my mom did and tell 'em they can have one pair of expensive jeans or three pair of regular jeans. I seriously doubt that I'll ever be at a point financially where $150 bluejeans are considered reasonable and affordable schoolwear.
My rule for younger children's clothes would be NO LABELS! That includes "GAP Kids" or "Pooh Bear" or anything else with a brand identity. I won't be advertising fodder, myself, and why should I make my kids be little, silent shills, either. Also none of those horrendous slogan shirts like, "My Daddy Can Kick Your Daddy's Butt." I'd be pretty conservative about licensed cartoon characters, too. Maybe one or two of a very favorite character, but not SpongeBob Everything, or Scooby Doo Everything. I would not stand for my baby being a walking billboard. Plus, too much character stuff just looks cheap and tacky. It's badly made, and most of it just doesn't look that good, anyhow.
I grew up in K-Mart clothes and hand-me-downs and it didn't hurt my character or self esteem any, and if/when I have kids, they'll do the same. Well, maybe some Old Navy Kids' for variety. I'll probably make a lot of their clothes, at least while they are young enough not to grizzle about not having the same brands of crap as their schoolmates. And when they get into junior-high and highschool, and start getting brand conscious, I reckon I will do the same as what my mom did and tell 'em they can have one pair of expensive jeans or three pair of regular jeans. I seriously doubt that I'll ever be at a point financially where $150 bluejeans are considered reasonable and affordable schoolwear.
My rule for younger children's clothes would be NO LABELS! That includes "GAP Kids" or "Pooh Bear" or anything else with a brand identity. I won't be advertising fodder, myself, and why should I make my kids be little, silent shills, either. Also none of those horrendous slogan shirts like, "My Daddy Can Kick Your Daddy's Butt." I'd be pretty conservative about licensed cartoon characters, too. Maybe one or two of a very favorite character, but not SpongeBob Everything, or Scooby Doo Everything. I would not stand for my baby being a walking billboard. Plus, too much character stuff just looks cheap and tacky. It's badly made, and most of it just doesn't look that good, anyhow.
I wrote on another thread that I don't have $$$, but after reading up on the terrible hurricane disaster in N. Orleans, I realise that by American standards, I'm rich. I just don't spend it all consuming, and I give away whenever I can, although not that much because I'm saving up to buy my own apartment some day. I guess I can afford to buy lots of designer bags, shoes and clothes, but it's just not right to me. I care about how I look, but I don't need to spend, spend and spend to do it. That's where I pride myself on my creativity. I read in the Washington Post that those left behind in N. Orleans have at most a few hundreds in the bank and live paycheck to paycheck. There's no way they can get out, but they should have been helped by fellow Americans. Imagine one designer sweater could have saved one life by buying a bus ticket out! I am an atheist but we have to care for fellow human beings who are poor and suffering. All the billions of tax $$$ spent destroying Iraq and Iraqi lives could have been spent saving and building lives in America. How can this powerful, rich, civilised country sink to this? I've lived in Cambridge/Boston during Clinton's time, and I feel very sad for the US.
helena
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J'adore le Baby Dior
Guardian fashion editor Jess Cartner-Morley on the joys of dressing up your little one
[font=Geneva,Arial,sans-serif]Wednesday August 24, 2005
The Guardian
[/font]
[font=Geneva,Arial,sans-serif]It is a source of considerable disappointment to me that I don't get to spend nearly enough time playing the glossy, airbrushed parenting role I had in mind for myself before I actually had a child. Annoyingly, for every minute I get to spend, for instance, sitting at a pavement cafe while my delightful little one tucks heartily into an organic meal and amuses himself artistically with crayons, with me, let's say, thoughtfully perusing the comment pages while maintaining a steady, watchful eye over my progeny and shyly acknowledging the admiring smiles of passers by, I would estimate that I spend at least 10 minutes singing The Wheels on The Bus, 20 minutes, minimum, crawling on hands and knees under bushes to retrieve lost footballs, and a good hour cleaning yoghurty fingerprints from windows. [/font]
[font=Geneva,Arial,sans-serif][/font]
[font=Geneva,Arial,sans-serif]I suspect that it is this chronic shortage of glamour and the ensuing wanton craving for appreciation that turns parents into such unbelievable show-offs. In my local playground on a Saturday morning, the children are roundly drowned out by their parents. "Come and have one of these nourishing but delicious muesli cookies that mummy made this morning, Lola darling," they shout across the climbing frame, "and then it's time we went to your drama workshop/Sudoku group/thank-you-letter-writing masterclass."
It is 10am, and the alpha mamas are flaunting their parental gold stars with all the subtlety of Jordan falling out of a late-night taxi in a bra top. Around the sandpit, mothers brandish healthy snacks and educational toys like Mulberry handbags. Believe me, front row at a catwalk show has nothing on this atmosphere of high-pressure competition.
It was always thus, of course. But favoured methods of showing off about one's brilliant child - and, more importantly, about one's A-starred parenting skills - are, as with everything, subject to the whims of fashion. Offspring who are coached to finish everything on their plate are, frankly, so 20 years ago; in these Jamie Oliver obsessed times, it's all about breeding a child who wrinkles their snub nose in the face of chocolate and pines for soya milk and papaya. And as with every well-meaning and commendable campaign, there are those who take the obsession with a perfect diet into Stepford territory. I have a friend who is part of an unofficial after-school swap system, with different parents providing tea for various kids in her street each evening. She still talks in hushed, shocked tones about the infamous occasion last year when one mother gave the children - wait for it - sandwiches, as if such a wheat-laden, non-gourmet GI snack was akin to offering a tray of stiff gin and tonics.
Me, I prefer to express my shallowness the old-fashioned way, with a weakness for Baby Dior, the home of cashmere bibs and toddler-sized fake- fur opera coats. This is rather embarrassing, since an obviously dressed-up child is an even more passé accessory than last winter's fur gilet. These days, the vogueish look for the pre-school age fashionplate is all about a rosy-cheeked, rough-and-tumble, sailing-holidays-in-Cornwall rakishness. Nowhere is this better illustrated than in the phenomenon of Mini Boden, the mail-order label in which adorable, wholesome, Boden-clad yummy mummies dress their equally adorable, wholesome, yummy offspring. The Mini Boden look combines an old-fashioned, hearty, vaguely upper-middle-class Britishness (sailing trousers; button-down pyjamas; partywear that features smocking and Cath Kidston-esque florals rather than glittery princess motifs and crop tops; a love of thick cotton and a horror of shiny fabrics) with a safe, parental-approved dash of urban trendiness (skater-length shorts, long-ish hair, ready-faded sweatshirts). The result satisfies older and younger generations, with an odd but somehow beguiling mix of Just William and McFly. Crucially, Mini Boden clothes, despite being on the pricey side, never look new, but have a nostalgic, sun-faded look that artfully reproduces the faded glamour of wealthy hand-me-downs.
Luckily for me, my son Alfie is, at two, as yet blissfully unaware of the subtleties of fashion, and therefore immune to the scandalised gaze of other mothers when we eschew the playground uniform of boat-necked stripey T-shirts and rock up at the park in his (OK, my) current favourite outfit: a miniature kaftan in teal (this season's colour) accessorised with a yellow bead necklace. There is, I do realise, a strange kind of narcissism-by-proxy going on here: if I am spending the day with Alfie I will leave dressing up until the grown-up hours after 7pm, and choose my own clothes on the basis of, say, how easy they are to get on and off at the swimming pool (my favourite ankle-tie Marni wedges have been sadly taken off Saturday daytime duty for this reason), or whether I can sit on the grass while wearing them (now that white jeans are back, I urgently need fashion advice from Liz Hurley - what on earth does she do when she goes to the park? Maybe they have special non-smudge turf in the Cotswolds?).
Alfie, on the other hand, is always working a look. Two summers ago, it was dungarees over bare tummy, winningly teamed with a floppy sunflower hat, a look that referenced two of that season's style icons: Bubba Sparxxx and Ali McGraw. Sometimes, it's true, he looks as if he might be more at home in the Central St Martins canteen than by the duckpond.
But I can't resist. Children's clothes provide all the joys of fashion with none of the angst. It is so fabulous to be able to buy shorts, knowing full well that the knees they will expose are chubby and pale but that it won't matter one bit. It is liberating not to have to consider whether a piece will be out of fashion in six months, because it will have been outgrown in six months anyway. Rather than the po-faced, body-obsessed posturing that dominates women's fashion, children's clothes are, above all, fun. Actually, they are more than just fun; they are funny. This summer, for instance, Alfie has a beige linen blazer from Gap Kids. I love it because - especially when his toddler curls are at their most springy and bouffant, and he is meandering across Hampstead Heath, hands in pockets, soulfully scanning the grass for the perfect addition to his prized twig collection - he looks exactly like a very small Melvyn Bragg. Some people might think it mean to dress one's children up for amusement value. I say, thank your lucky stars I don't have a girl.[/font]
Guardian fashion editor Jess Cartner-Morley on the joys of dressing up your little one
[font=Geneva,Arial,sans-serif]Wednesday August 24, 2005
The Guardian
[/font]
[font=Geneva,Arial,sans-serif]It is a source of considerable disappointment to me that I don't get to spend nearly enough time playing the glossy, airbrushed parenting role I had in mind for myself before I actually had a child. Annoyingly, for every minute I get to spend, for instance, sitting at a pavement cafe while my delightful little one tucks heartily into an organic meal and amuses himself artistically with crayons, with me, let's say, thoughtfully perusing the comment pages while maintaining a steady, watchful eye over my progeny and shyly acknowledging the admiring smiles of passers by, I would estimate that I spend at least 10 minutes singing The Wheels on The Bus, 20 minutes, minimum, crawling on hands and knees under bushes to retrieve lost footballs, and a good hour cleaning yoghurty fingerprints from windows. [/font]
[font=Geneva,Arial,sans-serif][/font]
[font=Geneva,Arial,sans-serif]I suspect that it is this chronic shortage of glamour and the ensuing wanton craving for appreciation that turns parents into such unbelievable show-offs. In my local playground on a Saturday morning, the children are roundly drowned out by their parents. "Come and have one of these nourishing but delicious muesli cookies that mummy made this morning, Lola darling," they shout across the climbing frame, "and then it's time we went to your drama workshop/Sudoku group/thank-you-letter-writing masterclass."
It is 10am, and the alpha mamas are flaunting their parental gold stars with all the subtlety of Jordan falling out of a late-night taxi in a bra top. Around the sandpit, mothers brandish healthy snacks and educational toys like Mulberry handbags. Believe me, front row at a catwalk show has nothing on this atmosphere of high-pressure competition.
It was always thus, of course. But favoured methods of showing off about one's brilliant child - and, more importantly, about one's A-starred parenting skills - are, as with everything, subject to the whims of fashion. Offspring who are coached to finish everything on their plate are, frankly, so 20 years ago; in these Jamie Oliver obsessed times, it's all about breeding a child who wrinkles their snub nose in the face of chocolate and pines for soya milk and papaya. And as with every well-meaning and commendable campaign, there are those who take the obsession with a perfect diet into Stepford territory. I have a friend who is part of an unofficial after-school swap system, with different parents providing tea for various kids in her street each evening. She still talks in hushed, shocked tones about the infamous occasion last year when one mother gave the children - wait for it - sandwiches, as if such a wheat-laden, non-gourmet GI snack was akin to offering a tray of stiff gin and tonics.
Me, I prefer to express my shallowness the old-fashioned way, with a weakness for Baby Dior, the home of cashmere bibs and toddler-sized fake- fur opera coats. This is rather embarrassing, since an obviously dressed-up child is an even more passé accessory than last winter's fur gilet. These days, the vogueish look for the pre-school age fashionplate is all about a rosy-cheeked, rough-and-tumble, sailing-holidays-in-Cornwall rakishness. Nowhere is this better illustrated than in the phenomenon of Mini Boden, the mail-order label in which adorable, wholesome, Boden-clad yummy mummies dress their equally adorable, wholesome, yummy offspring. The Mini Boden look combines an old-fashioned, hearty, vaguely upper-middle-class Britishness (sailing trousers; button-down pyjamas; partywear that features smocking and Cath Kidston-esque florals rather than glittery princess motifs and crop tops; a love of thick cotton and a horror of shiny fabrics) with a safe, parental-approved dash of urban trendiness (skater-length shorts, long-ish hair, ready-faded sweatshirts). The result satisfies older and younger generations, with an odd but somehow beguiling mix of Just William and McFly. Crucially, Mini Boden clothes, despite being on the pricey side, never look new, but have a nostalgic, sun-faded look that artfully reproduces the faded glamour of wealthy hand-me-downs.
Luckily for me, my son Alfie is, at two, as yet blissfully unaware of the subtleties of fashion, and therefore immune to the scandalised gaze of other mothers when we eschew the playground uniform of boat-necked stripey T-shirts and rock up at the park in his (OK, my) current favourite outfit: a miniature kaftan in teal (this season's colour) accessorised with a yellow bead necklace. There is, I do realise, a strange kind of narcissism-by-proxy going on here: if I am spending the day with Alfie I will leave dressing up until the grown-up hours after 7pm, and choose my own clothes on the basis of, say, how easy they are to get on and off at the swimming pool (my favourite ankle-tie Marni wedges have been sadly taken off Saturday daytime duty for this reason), or whether I can sit on the grass while wearing them (now that white jeans are back, I urgently need fashion advice from Liz Hurley - what on earth does she do when she goes to the park? Maybe they have special non-smudge turf in the Cotswolds?).
Alfie, on the other hand, is always working a look. Two summers ago, it was dungarees over bare tummy, winningly teamed with a floppy sunflower hat, a look that referenced two of that season's style icons: Bubba Sparxxx and Ali McGraw. Sometimes, it's true, he looks as if he might be more at home in the Central St Martins canteen than by the duckpond.
But I can't resist. Children's clothes provide all the joys of fashion with none of the angst. It is so fabulous to be able to buy shorts, knowing full well that the knees they will expose are chubby and pale but that it won't matter one bit. It is liberating not to have to consider whether a piece will be out of fashion in six months, because it will have been outgrown in six months anyway. Rather than the po-faced, body-obsessed posturing that dominates women's fashion, children's clothes are, above all, fun. Actually, they are more than just fun; they are funny. This summer, for instance, Alfie has a beige linen blazer from Gap Kids. I love it because - especially when his toddler curls are at their most springy and bouffant, and he is meandering across Hampstead Heath, hands in pockets, soulfully scanning the grass for the perfect addition to his prized twig collection - he looks exactly like a very small Melvyn Bragg. Some people might think it mean to dress one's children up for amusement value. I say, thank your lucky stars I don't have a girl.[/font]
EskimoGirl
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Children and Pricey Things
i'm sort of stealing this topic from the purse forum because i think it lead to interesting discussions. so, how does everyone feel about buying expensive things for kids/teenagers?
i already said this over there, but my parents have always kind of spoiled me (especially my mother), and it has lead to me having expensive taste and expecting to get the nicer things i ask for. i have also become accustomed to charging everything on the platinum credit card my parents gave me. and although i still consider myself pretty down to earth, i do realize that i am a bit materialistic for a sixteen year old.
i'm sort of stealing this topic from the purse forum because i think it lead to interesting discussions. so, how does everyone feel about buying expensive things for kids/teenagers?
i already said this over there, but my parents have always kind of spoiled me (especially my mother), and it has lead to me having expensive taste and expecting to get the nicer things i ask for. i have also become accustomed to charging everything on the platinum credit card my parents gave me. and although i still consider myself pretty down to earth, i do realize that i am a bit materialistic for a sixteen year old.
well if they're like 7 and unappreciative of it, its stupid. I saw this woman buying her 7/8 year old daughter a $200 purse 
Being 13 , of course I think its okay for like...at least old enough to as I said, appreciate expensive things and handle them with care
I mean its not much different than adults getting expensive stuff (besides the fact that they can pay for it themselves) I don't know why its any less "okay" for "younger" people to be materialistic. Unless they're extremely spoiled and carry the whole princess attitude
Being 13 , of course I think its okay for like...at least old enough to as I said, appreciate expensive things and handle them with care
I mean its not much different than adults getting expensive stuff (besides the fact that they can pay for it themselves) I don't know why its any less "okay" for "younger" people to be materialistic. Unless they're extremely spoiled and carry the whole princess attitude
EskimoGirl
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tinuvielberen
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ohoh609 said:
I think that makes all the difference in the world. If you have to earn the money, you know its worth.
I don't think kids should get expensive designer clothes or bags, unless it's in the form of a hand-me-down from Mom. What will they have to aspire to?
I'm a teenager with some high fashion tastes, but I think that as long as it's not out of control and we understand the value of money and appreciate what we have, then it's fine. It's the girls who take everything they have for granted and just expect more that drive me crazy.
As a teenager who goes to a school where labels are common-
I believe that kids should have some stuff that is decent, but don't buy your kids everything D&G for goodness sakes! If you buy your kids expensive stuff when young they will adopt those tastes and it could be rough when they get older. I grew up with no designer labels-in fact my mom made a lot of my stuff, and what she didn't was from Kmart, Fred Meyer, or Target. If the quality is better, say getting them a Ralph Lauren shirt, I would get it and teach the kids about labels with a good quality of clothes. As far as teenagers go, a lot of kids flaunt their A&F, AE, Hollister, Uggs, Juicy, D&B, LV stuff to no end. I think that kids should learn about labels with quality and not just whatever is hot.
So the answer to the question-buy the kids labels that aren't going to break the bank and have a history of good quality.
I believe that kids should have some stuff that is decent, but don't buy your kids everything D&G for goodness sakes! If you buy your kids expensive stuff when young they will adopt those tastes and it could be rough when they get older. I grew up with no designer labels-in fact my mom made a lot of my stuff, and what she didn't was from Kmart, Fred Meyer, or Target. If the quality is better, say getting them a Ralph Lauren shirt, I would get it and teach the kids about labels with a good quality of clothes. As far as teenagers go, a lot of kids flaunt their A&F, AE, Hollister, Uggs, Juicy, D&B, LV stuff to no end. I think that kids should learn about labels with quality and not just whatever is hot.
So the answer to the question-buy the kids labels that aren't going to break the bank and have a history of good quality.
justinleaddict
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I don't think we can say that just because some kids inherit expensive taste, they all don't know the value of money. I meen, a lot of teenagers don't respect their parent's money, wealthy or not. I don't think it matters..
taperjeangirl
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Children in designer clothes
As a mother I was wondering if any other TFS memeber had children and what their views were concerning dressing their child(ren) in expensive designer clothes.
P.S not sure if this is in the right place so mods feel free to move the thread
As a mother I was wondering if any other TFS memeber had children and what their views were concerning dressing their child(ren) in expensive designer clothes.
P.S not sure if this is in the right place so mods feel free to move the thread
