A Visit from the 3-Penny Queen

If there was anyone who could ever one-up the 3-Penny Princess in the quest to find a good bargain, it could only be the queen mother (whom we'll call the 3-Penny Queen). From my earliest days growing up, I can remember vivid memories of standing in line on Black Friday to catch the best deals, or sifting through the clearance racks at TJ Maxx in search of a rare marked-down designer shoe that no one else had.

To be fair, our tastes didn't exactly converge for many years. She had a penchant for the artsy, liberated, and off-the-beaten-path -- "Contemporary European" she called it -- while I was firmly planted in wholesome, American, girl-next-door classics. This was the source of endless teenage angst followed by adult loathing on my part for her complete refusal to fit into the Donna Reed housewife mold. And she was always into her career -- which wasn't a traditional female career, either. Watching her now as she manages important projects and helps get our country onto a better energy track is exciting. But as a child, I just wanted a mom who would bake cookies, make dinner for my friends, and pack lunchboxes with peanut butter sandwiches on Wonderbread with chips and applesauce. Hence, I spent more time in my dad's care than my mom's as his profession offered more flexibility (which was fortunate, as his cooking skills were always more amenable to my palate).

"Can't you be like all the other moms who wear smart sweater sets with pearls and neat polo shorts with cuffed shorts to kids' outings?" I would beg incessantly as an only child growing up in the Carolinas who just wanted to fit in.

"Why should I be like everybody else?" she would demand. "I get tons of compliments from friends and coworkers on my innovative sense of style."

"But why do you have to make me wear these weird clothes?" I would plead. "I don't want to stand out. I want to be just like the other girls in school who wear fun, casual sporty clothes and Keds. I don't want to be different."

"My dear," she would console me, "One day, you're going to realize that you're unique, and that being unique is a good thing. People try their whole lives to be different, to find that singular personality that makes them special. You're lucky -- you've already got that uniqueness. It's just waiting to come out."

"Aaargh!" I would march off into my room, hating everything that was "unique" and "special" and wanting to just be "normal" and "boring".

Which led naturally to a late high school and college wardrobe monopolized by clean-cut American classics, preppy basics from J.Crew and Gap, lots of khaki, and of course the requisite pearls that any Southern girl carries over, no matter where she moves. This took me pretty far in the Jackie-O inspired ambiance of the nation's capital and the nostalgically traditional Georgetown University, where some dorms were still single-sex and where priests still taught many classes (albeit Jesuit ones, thank God).

In the years after college, my ideal work ensembles came straight off the racks of the elegant Ann Taylor, then the epitome of grace in my limited world view. I also liked the clean lines and modern professionalism of The Limited and some timeless career classics from Banana Republic and Gap (when Gap still produced a line of refined work wear). This was supplemented by a sassy, cool evening vibe from such stores as Urban Outfitters, Express, Bebe, and Benetton -- all of which were easily accessible in the District without a car. For countless summer weekends spent largely on the Delaware beaches, I scoured the J.Crew and Banana Republic outlets (on the way to the beach) and the sale rack at Abercrombie & Fitch (before their pre-teen transformation).

Then I met my husband, which, among other changes, led to a ban of those countless summer weekends in the group beach houses. I also left my post-college stints on Capitol Hill to try my luck in the corporate world. This paid off financially, but it also changed my workwear needs. While the Hill was known for being a bastion of beige suits with medium heels and Kate Spade bags, along with knee-length dresses and pearls (no matter which party you worked for), the business sector had a little more variety. My husband also liked it when I wore girly pleated skirts, shades of (gasp) pink, and short dresses with heels.

During this period, I developed an insatiable appetite for shoes. Now, I should point out that this was not something I was born with. In fact, I never really understood my mother's overflowing shoe collection containing a most unsettling assortment of crazy platforms, killer stilettos, and a fetish-worthy stockpile of knee-high boots -- none of which were in style during the greater part of my youth. When would she ever wear those, and why on earth does one need a pair of fuchsia heels anyway? My shoe anthology, on the other hand, had been primarily composed of various specimens of brown, black, and the occasional tan sandal. For work I had usually subsisted on low pumps, slingbacks, and loafer heels. For play I chose beachy wedge flip-flops or ballet flats.

Thus it was with a fair amount of shock that I discovered that I was starting to enjoy shoe and handbag shopping more than I wanted to admit. It was even more disconcerting that I was beginning to appreciate styles that were not particularly practical. Worse, I had developed an unexplained tendency to buy shoes and bags in colors other than the aforementioned black, brown, or tan. All of a sudden I liked red, white, and silver shoes. I bought orange and pink bags. I even started to dabble in metalllics. It was disturbing that I was buying green shoes when I barely owned any green clothing. For some reason though, this trend continued, and I ended up with not only interesting shoes but higher and higher heels. All of which made me feel more like a woman than ever.

As shoes became a priority in my closet, accessories hit it big all over the retail spectrum. Over the years, pearls had remained the mainstay of my jewelry. I could experiment with big pearls, little pearls, single strands, and multiple rows, but pearls were always present. Gold was vehemently off limits for me, as I had long preferred silver and platinum as my more subdued metals of choice. But there was no denying that fine, delicate jewelry was becoming a bit passe and big costume jewels were hitting the scene with a force unseen in decades. Gold too made a huge comeback, as did beads and stones of all colors and sizes. Seeing the J.Crew models wrapped in rows of bright baubles undoubtedly ignited a need to re-decorate my wardrobe.

While this didn't exactly happen without some resistance on my husband's part -- he strongly objected to the sudden disappearance of his beloved pearls -- I continued to experiment with new looks. Don't get me wrong, I still loved my pearls -- but I felt that I needed to break out of the mold that I had been trapped in for so long and try something different, something bolder and more dramatic. I now wanted to wear colorful statement jewelry and unexpected combinations of accessories. Turquoise, coral, and quartzes that my mother had given to me years back now saw the light for the first time in ages. The pearls that did stay out on my dresser got an overhaul, being suddenly paired in never-before-seen ways, as necklaces became bracelets and single strand chokers were melded with longer, differently shaped beads. I even discovered that pearls came in all different colors, which led to a revelation that beigey, gray, and pinkish shades looked smashing on me.

Looking back at what my mom used to wear, I realize that she was years ahead of her time (or was it years behind?). Flipping through the old photographs and seeing her in the belted suit jackets, shirtdresses, chunky necklaces, tall boots, platform shoes, bug-sized glasses and turtlenecks with wide-leg trousers that are all the rage now, I find myself wondering if maybe she wasn't onto something. Even crazier, I am astonished to discover that I actually wear many of those things now -- with alarmingly similar results. Will my kids look back on my photographs one day and wonder why mommy dressed so weird? Probably. What goes around always comes around.

Fast forward to the present. When my mother came to visit last weekend, I actually looked forward to showing off my newfound style. While rooted in classics and wrapped with a colorful, feminine flair, my look was undeniably different than before. I wanted to show her how I had infused the flavors of the exotic, hints of the artsy, and essences of Parisian chic into my American, J.Crew-dominated wardrobe.

My efforts did not go unappreciated, as mom not only took notice but even complimented my style and my new accessories. And for her part, the recent years of sunbathing (bad!) and enthusiastic enjoyment of the easygoing Florida lifestyle had imparted her with a decidedly more laid-back, tanned, and carefree vibe. This in turn took some of the edge off her take-charge persona and gave her wardrobe an airier, less accessorized, and more feminine aura -- which both my father and I found pleasing.

For the first time, I felt like we could walk down the street together in harmony instead of me dreading her attention-grabbing ways and her complaining about my dreadfully boring ways. She even let me accessorize her for a change, and I actually took note of some of her ideas for some upcoming outfits I wanted to try. And she is warming up to J.Crew better than I expected....

Here she is in a J.Crew navy Corinne sweater jacket, white jeans, yellow tank, and pewter Cole Haan wedge sandals (left).

I took the opportunity to debut my Crisp Cotton Shorts in Shocking Pink with a navy Jackie cardigan and older navy polka-dot top. I accessorized with the Cherry Blossom Necklace in Deep Rose, worn here as a bracelet, and pink multi-colored sandals from Target bought last year (below).

I foresee a beautiful future for us, one where we can finally shop together in the same stores and find common ground. And shopping there will be, because one thing hasn't changed: this women still loves to shop! After 3 days of touring the area and visiting just about everyone she knew, she dragged my tired feet all over the discount stores in search of those must-have bargains. Some of her scores included Cole Haan sandals, Vera Wang Lavender Label jackets, and a new Italian-made handbag.

I took home a gossamer-thin (yet surprisingly warm) Theory ivory cashmere henley for pennies and a fetching Tory Burch shift in a most bewitching pattern that was on clearance. They will go nicely with my J.Crew pieces and fun new accessories.

Today, on this chilly and rainy day, I decided to bring out my Theory cashmere henley to road-test it. I paired it with a tea rose tank, dark bootcut Calvin Klein jeans, and my Frenchie trench in khaki (not shown). I accessorized with the Cherry Blossom Necklace in Deep Rose, a pink-orange multicolored cuff bangle from the Talbot's outlet that I picked up for $8, and a pair of Delman peep-toe slingback heels in tea rose that I plucked from the clearance rack at Marshall's for a mere $15 while shopping with my mom in Florida this winter (left).

While we no doubt still have our disagreements about style (and which hair color looks best on me), it makes me happy that we are finally learning to appreciate various elements that make up our own unique styles. Especially now that I no longer shudder at the very thought of being "unique". I am also grateful to her for conveying to me at least part of the artistic whimsy that she embraces. I hope that she is finally able to see some of my more classic ensembles as timeless rather than boring.

I have always dreamed about having little girls one day so I can dress them up and go shopping with them. I hope that they will like to play in my closet and borrow my clothes and shoes in ways that I never really wanted to in my mother's. Although, if they're anything like me, they'll be just as obstinate as I was and hate everything that I like. Oh well, at least they can play in my mother's closet.