On what to wear

When I was at primary school, I had to wear a grey bowler hat with a gold and sky-blue ribbon as part of my uniform. Then when I was about ten, I moved to a school where everyone had to wear a straw boater with green ribbon on fine days, and a beret emblazoned with the school crest when it was wet. On days which started fine, but ended wet, the smell of wet boaters would permeate the classrooms as the straw turned a sickly yellow colour, and the glue began to loosen. This form of headwear was prone to every kind of abuse. Without fail, we would all spend idle moments picking the edges of our boaters and creating small heaps of sawdust under our desks, not to mention hurling them around like frisbees, punching the crowns out of very knackered and soon-to-be replaced boaters, or twanging the elastic under each other’s chins for laughs. The headmistress had very strict beliefs about the correct position of the boater on the head, and once declared in assembly that the hats must never be worn on the back of the head for fear of looking ‘as if you were in a musical’. As well-off, fussy schools went, it wasn’t the most caring of places. It was the kind of school where, if you forgot your PE kit, you had to wear the water-stained white T-shirt that had been kicking around behind the radiator in the changing rooms, and a pair of big gym knickers that someone had left behind years ago, still bearing the name ‘Camilla Bateman’ on the italicised name tape.

I can see some sense in school uniform, especially when it levels the financial playing field for all kids, and removes distraction. But the extensive, prissy uniforms I used to wear were deliberately showy, not to mention divisive. The kind of uniform I had to wear meant that the girls who lived at the bottom of my road refused to play with me, and other local kids stuck their noses in the air and ignored me when I walked past. To this day, I cannot wear a hat without feeling silly and slightly humiliated. Sometimes I buy a hat, thinking that it suits me, or that I want it, or that this hat will be ok. But it is always a mistake. I cannot wear them. Hats have been ruined for me forever.

As all mothers know, the biggest battles they have with their children concern what is eaten and what is worn, and that’s because the power to define yourself physically is no small matter. So whenever I hear one of those ‘and finally’ news stories about a toddler who insists on wearing a Spiderman costume day and night, or will only wear the colour red, I cheer inwardly. Whatever makes you feel good, and more importantly, whatever doesn’t make you feel stupid, is what you should wear.