Sugar and Spice and All Things High-Priced....

This week I have been somewhat nostalgic, in a good way, but my retro-vision has led me to reflect on how quickly time can pass and how people’s lives evolve in so many different directions. By no means is it a critique - my life path may have taken me to the skies, indeed quite possibly left my head in the clouds, but in parallel I have realised that when on terra firma my life less-conventional means I have become ‘that’ friend…

….Manolos have been boxed up for baby-grows, 3 inch stilettos have been abandoned for 3 wheeler buggies, my dancing-queens have slowly become the yummy mummies. Moi, au contraire, my late nights remain committed to bottles of Moet rather than hot milk, but as much as I have avoided the baby hangover I do admit there is nothing more rewarding than stepping off the dance floor to spend time with said Baby Ga-Ga. (Terms and Conditons apply - a pre-determined curfew, is fully return to sender, no proprietary connections. Even an over-night is probably still too much to expect).

But as I observe from the side lines, I am amazed at the incredible capital expenditure needed to sustain the x-factor lifestyle of our next generation. Nurture has well and truly won over nature, and comes with a hefty $ and £ price tag.

Quicker than the new millennium mites can say American Express they are all carrying the latest DS, networking on laptops, a mobile is a must-have cool for school accessory and our weekend mini-diaries are just choca with ballet, piano, tennis and soccer practice.

The world of kidulthood has gone designer, right down to your first set of wheels (buggy and bike). But a gadget filled trunky is often not enough - cute quickly turns diva, please becomes a foot stomp and the naughty step is a game-play. 

For the Slinky/Dinky onlooker, whose noise pollution is easily controlled by a volume dial, I hold a somewhat perplexed admiration for the Stepford Wife Stroll that can zone out of the chaos and still put the cherry on the home-made cup-cake without the aid of prosaic.

I’m told it’s all worth it, ‘best feeling ever’. No doubt. For me, I can’t quite get beyond the 9 month purgatory or nappies - some things quite frankly are never designer. For now my bedtime story shall be a one-off, not nightly, and tell of the not-so-old woman who lived with her shoes, not in her shoe.

'Til next time, Pandora