Ugh. Or should I say Uggs?

So remember the quippy comment I made a few weeks ago about the gal sitting next to me on the flight to Disney? Well guess what #1 asked me for this week. Yup, a pair of Uggs. Here we go...

As you know, I do not think Uggs are attractive, nor can I understand the fact that they cost as much as my Christmas shoes, when they essentially look like wads of shearling wrapped around one's feet and calves. But here in New Town, as in most suburban towns, Uggs are part of the girl-living-in-suburbs uniform, worn with an oversized shirt and either skinny jeans or leggings. I had avoided the situtaion all together by steering my eldest away from the display of knock-off Uggs at the Skechers store. Those, while less expensive, were even more hideous, with their fake Ed Hardy embellishments and light-up soles. They're like Uggs in Vegas. Alas, my efforts could not over come the subtle daily influence of every female between the ages of eight and forty-eight sporting a pair (Uggs on anyone over the age of 40? Please see "Trying to Hard"). So Monday night, while I was making dinner she asks, in the sweetest, quietest voice, "Do you think I could get a pair of Uggs?"

I realized at that moment I was, yet again, going to have to let her express herself sartorially in a manner with which I did not agree, nor was it inappropriate in anyway, giving me an easy out, as with miniskirts. What I now had to struggle with was whether to get her the real deal or a pair of knockoffs. My daughter went on the explain her best friend has a fake pair and that would be totally fine with her. What to do, what to do.

I am all about knockoffs. My Tory Burch purse is a knockoff purchased at the preschool bazaar (apparently, counterfeit goods are a great way to make money for education), and the Christmas shoes of which I speak are basically fake Manolos. So I have no issue with buying things pretending they are the real McCoy. And did I really want to spend three times what I would normally, for a pair of boots that wouldn't fit next winter?

Texting H, for his opinion was useless since he just shot back, "Get them", not going through the emotional acrobatics I was. He did not ask himself, for instance, what are we teaching our child about the value of money, buying an item for which a more reasonably priced substitute could be obtained? Were we already raising expectations for brand name items at such a young age? Were we supporting the herd mentality?

So I called my resident expert, S, who has a twelve year-old. She reminded me of Dr. Spock's wise words, that part of childhood is wanting to fit in to some degree. So that assuaged my fears about the herd part. It was not a terrible thing to let my kid fit in about something so benign, knowing I have the cell phone, Facebook, curfew debates ahead of me. S also reminded me that my eldest sees me enjoy nice things, especially shoes, so how could some of that not rub off? Good point. Now what about the money?

Talking it over with H that night, he basically asked me if he's working hard so we can have nice things, doesn't this sort of qualify? And as for Uggs being the gateway drug to designer clothes, he reminded me that we simply wouldn't let that happen. You can have Uggs, but you will still get your jeans at the Gap, and your way too sparkly t-shirts at Children's Place, thank you very much. H is also what one would call a "quality consumer". He would rather wait and save his money to buy the house, car, or gigantic TV he wants, than have one of inferior quality we're just going to be marginally satisfied with and wind up replacing down the road anyway. He reminded me of his favorite shopping maxim, you get what you pay for. Not having done a side-by-side comparison of Uggs and knock0ffs, I hoped this theory as applied to sheepskin footwear.

So in the end I ordered them, and Zappos had them at our door the next day (love that!). I left them in her bed and when she got home, told her her room was a mess and she needed to do something about it. I have to admit the squealing I heard from her room, followed by the thundering down the stairs and knock-me-over hug was pretty gratifying. Later that night, we sat on the couch and she and I talked about what a special treat they were and how she had to take care of them. We also talked about bragging and name brands and how to brush it off if someone asked her if they were "real". About how it's not what you wear, but who you are that counts.

All of this caused by a pair of boots. I never expected so many little parenting interactions and decisions to be so loaded. But then again, nothing about parenthood is exactly what I expected. I did, however, expect my daughters would appreciate good shoes. Damn, they still are ugly though.