“Lil! Turn it down,” I barely heard my mom say over the piercing volume of Hannah Montana coming from my purple CD player. Annoyed that I had to stop flashing my green and fuzzy dress-up scarf around, I turned the dial to low. In no time, I was back to dancing about my bedroom with a sparkling silver purse, neon green microphone, and a pink fairy dress on top of my clothes. Now that you’ve had a glimpse of my 8-year old self, let’s go back to the beginning.

My newborn months were full of yellow, the dull and pasty shade that goes with baby blue and powder pink. Lucky for me, the ultrasound hadn’t been able to prove that I’m a girl. For those first few months, I was clad from head to toe in gender neutral colors. While looking through my baby pictures, I came across a picture of my infant self wearing the sportiest outfit I have worn to date. Thanks for the sweatband Dad.

If you were a child in 2006, you either had arm floaties with cartoons on them, or you’re lying. On our yearly day trip to Hampton Beach, my mom had dressed me in some rockin’ Strawberry Shortcake armbands. Of course, I had to have the coolest bathing suit we could find at the Tanger Outlets in Tilton. Which was the nearest mall to my hometown of Danbury, New Hampshire, though still a thirty minute drive. We would start our journey on bumpy dirt roads, and transition onto small highways. You could barely hear the dull roar of cars passing by over my non-stop chatter. When we finally got to the outlets, I helped my mom pick out a rainbow two piece with a skirt.

On our 2008 trip to Santa’s Village, I was wearing my favorite headpiece of the time, the visor. This particular one was hot pink, but trust me, there were others. I’m also sporting an adorable blue jumper. 

Each year, from about age six to age ten, I built a snowwoman with my mom. Yes, snowwoman. As a young and impressionable daughter with a single mom, I was taught to be a strong believer in feminism. Throughout first and second grade, I filled my hair with all different streaks of color. First, there was one pink piece down the side. Once that washed out, I had two front streaks of purple. About a year later, I replaced the purple with blue, which you can see here in my snowwoman selfie.

Another favorite pastime of every little girl is blind makeovers. I could always the plasticy lip gloss as it was applied more to my teeth than my lips. Occasionally I would even find myself chewing on a hard, raspberry scented fleck of glitter. This particular makeup was done by my best friend at my ninth birthday party. I was extra excited that year because my dad had made it to my birthday party, and even let me give him a blind makeover. Letting me attack his face with Bratz lipstick was probably one of the bravest thing he has ever done.
This next set of pictures shows my favorite holiday skirt. I wore it every Christmas, and even some Valentine’s Days, for years. These pictures alone give evidence for three separate occasions that I decided to wear this one skirt. I’m very fond of routine, so it’s not surprising that I dressed myself in the same outfit so many times. Christmas’s itinerary was also the same every year. Christmas Eve dinner with one present before bed, and the rest in the morning at Mom’s house. Then, at noon on Christmas Day, I was always swapped off to Dad’s house for gifts and Christmas dinner with him.

The white and black striped fedora I wore in fifth grade was second to only my pink, fishnet gloves when it came to awful accessories. I coordinated my fingerless gloves to my hats as often as possible. It was my first year in a new town and school, and I was kind of alone when it came to all of my new peers. For some reason, I thought piling on as many Claire’s accessories as I could would make me friends.

I went through an 80s phase in fifth grade, where I wore a lot of neon and kept my hair in a side pony. Leggings or tights under shorts was another style choice that every girl made at one point in her life. Whether it was wise or not, I still couldn’t tell you. Though, I’m leaning towards, “not.”

I also earned my first nickname in fifth grade. It was the second day of school, and my first day of the bus. I climbed on and found an empty seat. Being new, no one knew my name. The unfamiliar kids asked me a few times what it was and replied with a quiet, “Lilly.”

They couldn’t hear me and I heard someone say, “Let’s call her Friendo.”

“Okay… I said my name is Lilly,” I replied shyly. Now that it has been a few years, the name has faded. Only one person still refuses to call me Lilly, using only the name Friendo. Though people don’t refer to me just by that nickname, they will sometimes substitute it for my last name.

I’ve heard a few conversations like, “Who is that?”

“Lilly.”

“Lilly who?”

“Lilly Friendo. I can never remember her real last name.”

Looking back on my many childhood style choices, I concluded one thing, I was certainly not afraid to express myself through my clothes. Some parents monitor their children's outfits very carefully, so they don’t make fools of themselves, but I’m glad my mom, for the most part, let me wear what I wanted to. Even the most introverted people, like me, should be able to let their personality show through their clothes. I am not ashamed of any of these outfits because they remind me of certain times throughout my life. Without my original outfits and the memories they trigger, I wouldn’t be who I am today.