My wanna-be status has begun to grow, and the door was opened to Austin Fashion Week. As the hard yet stylish black plastic chair supported my eager behind I dreamt of the pieces about to stroll down the white tile runway. Would there be spikes and lace? Simple or extravagant pieces? What if my dysfunctional side peeped through and I hated it all?
Then... jaw drop. Girls!
Girl after girl walked. Little girls. Like, are you out past your bedtime little? Yes, never in a million years would I have expected this as a pre-teen show. Furious check. Was I at the correct place? Media pass said yes.
As the last baby beauty exited stage left, and a just as young designer stepped out for a final wave, it became clear. This was no mistake, this was fashion fabulocity. A 12-year-old has a line of clothing, and though it is deemed for cool pip-squeaks I found myself asking, could I lose enough weight to fit in those velvet pants?
This silly question was quickly dismissed by a more plausible one: Why was I so un cool?
At the age of 12 my biggest battle was trying to hide the Barbie dolls I still felt need to play with. And my dreams consisted of me exclaiming "I must be a singer!" That was it. I simply yelled at my lungs and then continued on with my ever lacking day.
I can only imagine this little girl was given a sewing machine instead of dolls, and was so awesome that it made sense. Though we can't all be that cool. Not everyone can find their calling before they learn to walk in heels. At least that is what I keep telling myself to make it all seem better...
Oh, by the way, saw in a local interview that she is studying for her Associates Degree. Chew on that for a few days.
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