Adventures of a Teenaged Boy Stylist, Continued

So the Hollister trip wasn't HORRIBLE.  Big Kid was absolutely correct when he warned me that "Hollister smells exactly like my Axe body spray."  (The reason that he knows this is that girls frequently come up to him and tell him that he "smells like Hollister.")

 

The difference is, Hollister actually pumps the brakes on the scent application, whereas a teenaged boy tends to pour it on.  The scent is subtle - while you are in the store.  Then, when you leave, it follows, and you find yourself wondering:  is it clinging to my clothes?  To the mucus linings of my nasal passages?  Or both?  Whatever, it's insidious.  But please let it be in my nose, because if it's on my clothes, people may mistakenly think that I WANT TO SMELL THIS WAY.

 

But let's talk about the clothes.  He approved of the dip-dye tee above, which was my favorite.  Crew neckline:  less d-baggish than a vee.  And you can't go wrong with ombre.  Reminds me of a Polo tee that he had as a kid, but I'm going to stop thinking about that now, because I'm really trying to yada yada over and through the fact that he is no longer six. 

 





He also insisted on this one.  Umm, okay.  It's a vee, but it's a shallow vee.  We aren't veering into Simon Cowell, chest hair-framing territory.  And I think that the shirt would look less d-baggish if the person wearing it wasn't standing LIKE THAT.

Moving on.

Yay, back to a crewneck.  Good colors on him.  Momma likes.

Well, it's a hoodie, but it's not a baggy hoodie that swallows him, and it's not goth-hued.  Bright and sunny.  Definitely surfer-ish, and the Big Kid is surfer-ish (actually factually, he's got skills on a short board).

Okay, fairly sure that my high school boyfriend had a substantially similar shirt in 1986.  And DEFINITELY sure that he posed in it like this.  Like, "Yes, my shirt is a bit tight.  That's intentional.  Because I want you to notice the breadth of my shoulders and the tone of my arms.  Why, yes, I do play tennis."

But enough about THAT guy (who was actually perfectly lovely, and not at all d-baggish).

 

Big Kid definitely had a version of this shirt when he was, like, three.  But instead of a - what is that supposed to be, a seagull? - it had a cute little bicycle embroidered on it.  Okay, I'm veering towards sentimentality again.  Where's that Axe stench when you need it?  That stuff is like smelling salts.  I could totally blame it for any tears that may happen to be forming in my eyes.

We got shirts.  Swim trunks eluded us, which means [sigh] another trip to a mall, because I don't think that my "teenaged boy stylist" skills encompass guessing at swimwear sizing.  He did get athletic shoes, after MUCH wailing and gnashing of teeth, and he also got Vans.  Because Little Kid was tagging along, he, too, acquired athletic shoes and Vans - and rash guards, t-shirts and shorts.  So we're stylish.  And not naked.  Well, unless we want to be.  (We're boys, so we seem to want to be naked, a lot.)

Job well done.