Caught in a trap between stylish oldies and youngies

BEST DRESSED Madonna with her daughter Lourdes
BEST DRESSED Madonna with her daughter Lourdes
Mo Farrah after missing out on a gold medal
				 Picture: Adam Davy

VERITY LUSH: Leave me to browse the make-up counter in peace

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Oh my, all these years I’ve spent worrying about dressing like my mother (who is actually quite stylish, but it’s just not the done thing to wear what your parent wears) and now I find out that all the time I should have been aiming to dress like my daughters.

A recent poll by Woolworths (yes, it still exists online) showed that children are way more stylish than their parents. The inference being that we should seek to emulate them.

Fine in my case – if I wanted to look like a refugee from Chechnya.

Seemingly Madonna’s daughter Lourdes and Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise’s offspring Suri are regarded as the best-dressed kids in celebrity world and their mothers should take a leaf out of their books.

Well, if I was to copy my daughters’ look I would be wearing trousers which are above the ankle, jumpers which come halfway down my arms and about 15 scarves.

I can’t understand why, when my daughters have drawers full of clothes that do fit them, they resolutely stick to ones that don’t.

It’s not as if they’re tomboys with a need to look like a chimney sweep as they’re both still keen on the perennial pink.

Their hair-dos take an age of a morning (fighting sticky-up bits to get that flat pull-back so beloved of chavs – accompanied the whole time in the making by singing the line ‘oh, your hair is beautiful’ from the Blondie song Atomic).

So what is the secret of looking cool now that grunge has confined itself to the bin and the 80s revolution never actually made it into the mainstream?

And which way should us middle-aged women be looking for inspiration – to our parents or our children?

We’re caught in a trap between stylish oldies and stylish youngies with no room for manoeuvre in either direction. What should we do?

Me, I’ll stick to whatever fits around the rotund dimensions of my stomach and continue to deny my daughters the pleasure of having their ears pierced.

At least that way I still have one element of original style over and above them.