I was just going through an old blog I closed last year, and found this… Vintage Vesuvius (not his real name).
This is my glorious son when he was four-years-old. He has always been rather unusual. On this particular day I asked him to get dressed and he came down in this outfit… His swimmers, goggles, arm tattoo and beanie.
ME: We’re not going swimming.
HIM: I know.
ME: So why are you wearing your swimmers?
HIM: I’m not.
ME: ………… okay…
And so off we went to Myers, to buy a birthday present for a friend. He received some looks, some stares… some laughs. It didn’t faze him. He was wearing what he wanted, and he wore it with confidence.
Got to admire that.
He’s now nearly nine, and I like to take him shopping. He styles me. He recently sat on a changing room floor while I tried on some shorts.
“They suck mum…”
“They make you look like a hobbit.”
“Nope, no good for your arse.”
“Yep… they’re great. Really stylish.”
You’re either born with it or you’re not.
