Dictating wardrobes choices for toddlers not to mention tweens is pretty difficult, and often ill advised if you don’t want a piercing and tattoo rebellion by the time they hit 15, (I let Jonah get a mohican at 6 because he wanted one for that reason – luckily his school is pretty liberal). However, I agree with the general sentiment of this beautifully penned article by the ever witty and more often than not, bang on the nail Pretty Feet Pop Toe, that slut walking for tweens is pretty lowbrow.
But I’d like to make the point that’s there’s a whole evolutionary tranche of femaledom who blossoms early and needs to procreate before their looks and life chances (by which I mean social housing ) wilt forever. Or is that a bit classist? Meh. it’s true enough.
On my daily travels around the fine town of London, I have noticed a sudden eruption of a people attired in a way which offends my sensibilities; buttocks poking cheekily from denim hot pants, side-boob flashing slashed vests, belly revealing crop tops, wobbly high heels and French tipped manicures at the end of fake tanned limbs, lashings of gloopy lip gloss and eyes weighed heavy with claggy mascara. No, this isn’t a post-hen party walk of shame, it isn’t the gaggle of tuppeny hookers congregating around Soho, these are pre-teen girls.
Teenage girls are a law unto themselves and a disaster of fashions, but they have earned this right through decades of rebellion, Beatles and Biba. What we have now is bratitude, Bieber and pre-teens dressed like trollops. There’s no two ways about it, the streets are awash with girls barely able to fill a bra, revealing said bra…
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