DEBORAH CORRAO / L’Observateur / August 21, 1999

It seems like we’re going through another rite of passage at my house. Mygranddaughter Carley is beginning second grade, 7 1/2 years old but quickly advancing on adolescence.

She informed all concerned (meaning those of us with enough money to buy clothes) about six months ago that she would no longer wear any knit play outfits with character pictures on them, although those had once been the mainstay of her wardrobe.

This year for school she wanted “cool clothes.” Of course, the definitionof “cool” changes from year to year, if not day to day.

Now, I know we have two generations separating us, but I can remember being 7. It never occurred to me that I had a choice about what I wore. Ijust wore what my mother gave me. Oh, I recall pitching a small tempertantrum as a first-grader when my mother insisted that I wear a pair of socks with a stain on them. But style?I was well into fourth grade before I realized that the red plaid skirt really didn’t go with the striped blouse I loved to wear it with. Hey, theywere both red.

My fashion sense got a little better in my late teens, but now I’m sort of at the “who cares” stage. My favorite designer now is the one who putsthose “basic” black and white labels in the clothes. I pretty much stick towhat’s comfortable and easy to assemble in the morning.

Truth is, I’m content with my new fashion consciousness. At least now I’mconscious of the fact that I don’t have to look like everybody else.

Carley, however, has not reached my state of enlightenment, turning, instead, to first grade fashion maven Samantha for the latest in elementary school attire. Samantha’s clothes were the envy of all thefirst grade girls, smaller versions of what the teen-agers were wearing.

This year Carley has decided she wants to wear only dresses to school.

The rule about cartoon characters also applies to dresses, of course.

A couple of weekends ago my sister and I took her shopping at the mall and ended up at a sale at Macy’s.

Carley chose four or five long, straight dresses in various fabrics and colors as well as a dubious selection of shoes that I thought at the time might not ever make it out of their boxes.

We spent a couple of hours last week weeding out things she will never wear again and filled up a bag for the thrift store.

As I write this, Carley just left for school in a silver-grey sport dress, the black clunky shoes that zip up the front and tatoo jewelry.

But wait! All is not lost! Her red backpack is appliqued with a picture of Tweety Bird.

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