I’ve been eagerly anticipating the launch of my redesigned website for months. Today, I feel like a kid on Christmas morning, impatient to tear off the paper and show off my favorite new outfit to everyone.

Did you have a favorite outfit or article of clothing as a child? Were you known for this look?

Amanda shared a story with me about what her then three-year-old son Henry became known for wearing. He was obsessed with Superman, so every day he put on his blue Superman t-shirt, red nylon shorts, and a red Superman cape. The crowning glory was his favorite red fireman rain boots that he wore even in ninety-eight-degree weather. 

The year Henry wore his Superman attire went by quickly, but the persona he crafted during that time still sticks. He is a tough kid who works hard, plays hard, and never wants to be seen as weak, just like his favorite character. Today, the neighbor across the street still calls out to Henry, “Hey, Superman!”

Write about a favorite outfit, article of clothing, or another fashion statement you made when you were younger. Maybe, it was something unconventional you did with your hair, a tattoo, a notorious hat, or wild shoes.

  • Was it something you wore often enough that people connected that look with you? 
  • What message did your appearance communicate to the world?
  • What reaction did you receive from others?
  • How long did you wear or use that look?

Post your writing in the comments section below. I cannot wait to hear about the things you used to wear or the fashion statements you made! Send pictures if you have them.

All posts in response to our writing prompts in March will be entered into our drawing to win a free online coaching video—that’s a $20 value! Responding to this prompt is your last chance since we did not run a newsletter at the end of March. We will draw the name of our winner next week and announce it in the newsletter. Go for it!

The “Super Henry” look went everywhere in 2009: birthday celebrations, a ballet recital, the pumpkin patch, trick-or-treating, theme parks, and even school.

3 Comments

  • by
    Becky McGregor
    Posted April 5, 2019 10:57 am 0Likes

    My grandmother who I call Nana, was showing me a dress that she made for my wedding. The dress was beautiful and the color fit into my wedding colors. Even though I knew Nana had wonderful sewing skills, and made all of her clothing, I was always impressed at how her clothing looked as if a professional had made it. Yet the more I stared at the dress, the more I felt as if something was wrong. Then it came to me. The dress had no pleats. This was the first time Nana was not wearing a pleated skirt. As far back as I could remember, Nana always wore pleated skirts. She would match it with a nice blouse, if she was going out. Or she would put on a t-shirt to work in her garden. If it was cold, she would throw on a flannel shirt. She even wore a pleated skirt when she went fishing, but she would put on a pair of shorts under the skirt. Looking into her closet there was a rainbow of colored pleated skirts all made by Nana. When I was learning to sew, I tried to make a pleated skirt. It had taken me hours to do ten inches of pleating and each pleat ended up a different size. Needless to say, I never finished that project. Knowing how hard it was to make a pleat, left me in awe of Nana’s sewing skills. While I loved the dress Nana made for my wedding, I wish she had put at least one pleat in it.

  • by
    Julie Fera
    Posted April 8, 2019 11:28 pm 0Likes

    This prompt did not bring something from my childhood to mind. What popped into my head was my current signature trait.

    Let me explain. Beginning in October 2008 until August 2009 I lost three extremely close family members: my mother, my mother-in-law (my 2nd mom) and my younger brother. Understanding that everyone grieves and mourns differently, I could have gone any number of different ways. I have seen episodes of Hoarders on A&E TV where individuals begin to hoard extensively, to the extent of unlivable conditions. Some become depressed and recluses. I did none of those things. My hair began to go grey. Yes, I know I was of an age that is not so unusual. I thought it was extremely grey.

    Life was difficult those nine months. I was the executrix to my mother’s estate, which ended up taking five years of my life to settle. My remaining sibling and my brother’s son and his wife traveled to the Rockies south of Denver, Colorado. There, on property owned by my brother, we scattered his ashes.
    After returning from that trip, I sat in my hairdresser’s chair, both of us looking at my reflection. My hairdresser asked what we were doing today. I asked if something could be done about all the grey. “Of course, what color did YOU have in mind?” My reply, “something fun”. So in October 2009 I began to color my grey. What color you wonder? My favorite color since childhood – purple. Yes, purple.
    In the intervening ten years, the color has remained the same purple. My hair seems to become more purple with passage of time. There is more grey, therefore, more purple.

    I have had mixed reactions. My youngest daughter hates the color, absolutely hates it. My husband said after that initial appointment, “What? Have you lost your mind?” My grandsons insist they are getting used to it. My favorite reactions are from strangers.

    One memory from the early years was store clerk at a convenience store who was smoking out front. I had just come from the hairdresser. Disembarking the car, my hair shone very purple in the sunlight. The clerk blurted out “your hair is purple”. I asked if she was serious and she assured me she was. My reply “No wonder he would not turn me to the mirror. I will sue him.” With no further comment, I walked into the store, leaving the clerk with her mouth gaping open.

    Most times the comments are short. “I love your hair color.” “I wish I was bold enough to do that color.” “Boy, you must be fun or adventurous or creative.” Another favorite response was a small child telling her grandmother my hair was purple. I said to the child, “Your hair is yellow”. The grandmother humpfed and quickly turned and walked away.

    With the passing years, vivid hair colors have become more mainstream. Granted, you do not see it often on a person of my age. However, purple hair has become my signature style, my trademark as it were. I will be staying with purple. It is me.

  • by
    Kathie Schulz
    Posted April 9, 2019 5:04 pm 0Likes

    I offered to help my sister get a young pilot friend out of her life. my mom insisted she date. Our parents were friends with Peter’s.
    I had just returned from a year in San Francisco. Meanwhile they sat in the living room with mother. I stormed into the room wearing a bright orange silk crepe jumpsuit with ruffles on the collar and bell bottoms. I had my short hair teased and gilded all gold swigging a bottle of whiskey with an orange chiffon scarf tied around the neck of the bottle screaming, “Mother, how often do I have to remind the help that I only bathe in pink champagne, not the ordinary kind?” She became quite exasperated telling them I was impossible since my return from California. Once they left mother rushed to phone Peter’s mother telling her to please have him ignore my outrageous behavior. I picked up one of the extensions and said, “Mary, don’t mind mother as she lost her sense of humor in the war.” Mission Accomplished!

Comments are closed.