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IKE all good routines that actually become routine, this one evolved naturally. Sometime after the twoyear-old mark, I noticed, to my delight, that my daughter had not only started dressing herself each morning but that she has, shall we say, a very individual sense of style.
The first outfit I felt compelled to share on social media involved a pair of baby-pink leggings, a patterned crop top, a multilayered mesh skirt, polka-dot gumboots, her mother’s thrift-store handbag and a pink pompom beanie. It was about 30°C outside but no child has ever made fashion decisions based on actual weather.
She and I were very proud of her achievement and, like any modern parent, I felt the moment merited recording for posterity. So began my #whatlallywore Instagram project.
Every day, barring forgetfulness or general morning chaos, I ask her to pose in exactly the same spot, where the light is best and the bedlam that is our house is shown in a more favourable light. I share the results with my community of friends, family, a posse of New York graffiti artists who have inexplicably followed me, and Dale Steyn (where Dale leads I will follow, and he was kind enough to follow back).
The hashtag has become something of a hit. Since our first post in 2013, Lally has garnered quite a considerable fan base, with thousands of likes, “bless”-es and unintelligible emojis hailing her efforts.
My wonderfully eccentric little girl has delivered some Björk-level red-carpet-worthy moments. She’s not shy of a mismatched print. Her ballet tutu features regularly. A get-up that was part Batgirl, part Princess Elsa, finished off by the judicious inclusion of one of those hats with dangling corks