Sorry, sisters, but some girls ARE born to shop!
THE look of pure avarice on her face was instantly recognisable. Even at three years old, my little girl was experiencing what can only be described as consumer lust. While her two older brothers slunk around the aisles of the department store, bored and deadeyed, longing to be anywhere else but here, their sister was clearly in for the kill.
She started pulling dresses and a pink sequin jacket and matching skirt off the racks chanting: ‘Want this! Want this!’ like a pint-sized diva.
It was more than a little embarrassing. Not only was I aware how this might look to other shoppers, but I could feel my sons’ accusing eyes on me, too. They’d definitely nudged each other, with a roll of the eyes and a ‘here we go’. Clearly, I had to say no. ‘It’s a little expensive sweetheart,’ I ventured. ‘And you’ve that lovely dress at home you haven’t worn yet, remember?’
Her avarice turned instantly to confusion, then tears. How could this be? Her mother saying no? To her? To clothes. What madness was this?
I managed to avert a meltdown by suggesting lunch, and we trooped down the escalator (as the boys high-fived each other) but not before I’d made a mental note of the sequin jacket. Maybe I’d think about ordering it online tonight.
Do I spoil my daughter? Yes I do. As a girl, do I treat her differently to my sons? Again, I must plead guilty as charged.
While I love and adore all three of my children equally, when it comes to indulging them, Zeabella trumps the lot. And clothes are my weakness.
You only have to look at the shoe shelves in their wardrobes to see the disparity. My daughter’s is rammed, with dancing shoes, sequinned slippers, satin pumps, patents, knee-highs and trainers.
When it comes to the boys, however, Rafael, eight, and Zevi, six, have their school shoes and a pair of trainers each. And that’s it.
No wonder a survey revealed it costs £30,000 more to raise a girl than a boy and at toddler age, girls cost nearly 37 per cent more than boys. I can see why: spending money on a little girl is so easy and fun. It’s like having your own Barbie doll.
The ‘gender neutral parenting’ and Pinkstinks campaigners would lynch me. Recently there has been a concerted backlash against gender stereotyping in children’s clothing and toys.
Psychologists argue that dressing girls in pretty shoes and dresses, and complimenting them on their looks, teaches them to place excessive value on their appearance.
But what about my instincts, as a mother? I see this delightful little girl, whose eyes light up, magpie like, at the sight of satin and pearls, and I want to make her happy.
Most of the time I go shopping — with or without her — I come home with at least one item.
Nothing massively expensive: a pink Zara dress for £20, a fluffy pink ballerina skirt for £10, a rainbow-coloured top for £7. At the beginning, I’d bring home a top or jacket for each of the boys, too, so they wouldn’t get jealous, but they didn’t seem to care, so I stopped. Zeabella, however, was different.
From the age of one, she was always excited if I came home with shopping, pointing at bags eagerly. When she turned two, I would drop her brothers off at football training on a Saturday morning then take her to the local shopping centre where we developed a bit of a habit.
A pair of shoes, a few dresses, some hair bobbles or frilly socks: Zeabella would rarely come away empty-handed. Everything was just so . . . cute.
I blame the novelty of having a girl after two boys. Also, she was the first girl born on my husband’s side of the family for nearly 30 years, so her birth generated a huge fuss and Christmas each year is like a present bonanza.
When I took her out shopping in the pram as a newborn I was giddy with excitement. Before I knew it, I’d spent nearly £150 in one swoop. She’d grown out of the lot in three weeks. I never spent that amount on her brothers. They’re lucky if I spend £30 a month on them, and left to their own devices, they’d wear their football kit all day.
Do the boys notice I treat their sister differently? They don’t seem to resent the money spent on her. They are aware, however, that Zeabella likes to shop and Mummy rarely says no.
Even more difficult to explain is the fact that I’m hardly ‘girlie’ myself. I didn’t have a wardrobe packed full of pink when I was a child. I was more into reading and playing outside.
As an adult, clothes didn’t interest me all that much either. I had my ‘uniform’ of smart dresses as a Sky News presenter, and my weekend casual attire, but that’s about it.
My biggest indulgence is a pair of strappy Gucci sandals, which are now over ten years old.
But with Zeabella, it’s a different story. Some days there are more costume changes than Beyonce at the Super Bowl.
Again, I observe this with a mixture of fascination and guilt. As the parents of girls we are warned against the dangers of raising them to place importance on their appearance.
I’ve seen the stats, that childhood depression and eating disorders among girls are rocketing. A recent survey by the Girl Guides revealed how girls as young as seven want to lose weight, and the majority feel they are judged on their looks.
OF COURSE, it fills me with horror, but Zeabella gains so much pleasure from clothes, as do I buying them for her, it’s really difficult to see the harm.
Dr David Cohen, psychologist and author of Great Psychologists As Parents, isn’t so convinced of its harmlessness, however: ‘A mother should at least use their shopping trips to teach her daughter how to budget, plus bargaining skills.
‘There’s a danger, too, that you will automatically gender stereotype your children if mum takes daughter shopping and dad takes son to football.’
But some traits, I know, are inherent. Recently, I took her out to buy some new shoes and we found a pair of glittery pink ones neither of us could resist.
When we tried on her size — she has wider than average feet — they didn’t fit.
‘It doesn’t matter, Mummy,’ she replied. ‘I want them.’
‘But they don’t fit and they’ll hurt when you wear them,’ I repeated.
‘I’ll still wear them,’ she said with determination. And guess what? I bought them!
Some girls are born to shop.