THERE are two things you will never find in my wardrobe. Unfortunately, bad taste and moths are well represented, but I simply refuse to wear anything that has writing on it, or a visible label.
I'm on a mission. I always remove labels because I want people to see me, not an advertisement for my outfit. Give me some Gucci jeans – and you'd have to, because there's no way I could afford them – and I'll snip off the label before you can say "c
rime against fashion". I don't covet clothes for what's written on them. It doesn't matter if they're Matalan or Moschino, if they've got a conspicuous label that announces my choice to the world, I reach for the scissors. I'm not paying some big-name shop, or famous designer, for the privilege of being an unpaid, mobile commercial.
I feel the same way about my child's clothes. No three-year-old should have to care about what they look like, so I buy my son plain, inexpensive, label-free stuff, mostly from supermarkets and catalogues. So long as it's not made by toddlers in Taiwanese sweat shops, I'll have it. Junior once showed some interest in a Lacoste top, but only because he liked the look of the crocodile, so I bought him a cheap top with a crocodile on it. Problem solved.
As long as there's breath in my body, I will protect him from the tyranny of designer fashion, and the day he comes home and demands brand-name trainers is the day we move to Outer Mongolia.
However, it looks like the move to Outer Mongolia is fairly inevitable if the results of a new survey are anything to go by. Sheilas' Wheels, the insurance company, asked more than 1,000 British parents how much they were spending on clothes since the recession hit and half of them replied that they were deliberately spending less on themselves so they could continue to afford designer labels for their fashion-conscious kids.
Rather than force their children to wear – perish the thought – label-less clothing, half of parents are prepared to scrimp, save and go without. I have no problems with putting my child's needs first, but it looks like some people need a crash course in the difference between wants and needs. Who actually needs designer clothes?
A T-shirt is a T-shirt, whether it comes from Stella McCartney or Sainsbury's. Self-sacrifice is supposed to be a noble act, but in this case the words "stupidity", rod", "own" and "back" spring effortlessly to mind.
Even more parents – a whopping 70 per cent – admitted that, from the age of about ten upwards, their children were suffering peer pressure to wear only the latest, upmarket brands. But so what? Surely the current financial crisis is the best excuse ever for parents to form a united front and say a resounding "No!" to their budding little David Beckhams and Imelda Marcoses. With 53 per cent of parents complaining that their children refuse to wear clothes that don't conform to the current playground style requirements, has there ever been a better time to stop the madness?
Think of it another way. If your child was refusing to eat anything but oysters, caviar and truffles, because that was what all the other kids were eating, would you let them? And would you survive on dry bread and Spam to finance their indulgence?
There is no aspect of this problem that is healthy. The children are getting warped values – believing it's permissible for us to judge each other by the cost of our wardrobes – and losing out on a carefree childhood by being shackled into clothes that make them painfully self-aware. The parents have evidently lost control and probably spend half their lives desperately trying to remove Ribena stains from Prada. Is anybody having fun?
No sane parent wants to suffer under this dictatorship of design, but many lack the courage to stand up to their children. They need others to lead the way and, thank God, some people are prepared to. I know of someone who recently moved to France and when she picked up her 11-year-old daughter from her first day at the local village school, the headmaster quietly took the mother aside.
Politely, he pointed out her daughter was wearing obviously expensive, brand-name clothes. "If she wears them again, she will be sent home," he explained. "School clothes are for working and playing. We do not want fashion competitions in the playground." Oh, and her mobile phone wasn't welcome either.
Forget Outer Mongolia, let's all move to France.
