Dressing the part

Tonight I'm imagining, for reasons that will become apparent in a moment or two, a tournament bracket in which the wildest, most outlandish dressers in rock history are seeded, and face off in a battle for an especially faaaab-ulous trophy. The favorite in one bracket, of course, would be Elton John in c. 1973 - although, really, John's been a consistent head-turner for many years. I suppose that Lady Gaga, despite her relatively recent appearance, has already earned a top slot, and who could deny James Brown, who often cited the professional wrestler known as Gorgeous George as a sartorial inspiration, another? (As James Sullivan wrote, in The Hardest Working Man in Show Business, "the clothes were a critical part of the show, and any public appearance, however fleeting, was showtime"). And, finally, just for fun, I'll give a fourth top seed to the band backing Gnarls Barkley, for their audacious Star Wars romp - that's Chewie on the drums! - at the 2006 MTV Music Awards.

In short, those are legendary dressers - and it would seem to be totally unfair to ask a two-year-old to compete with them. At least, that's what I thought, until I had a two-year-old. But now, a year into toddlerdom, I'm starting to think that in fact a revolutionary fashion sense is a common gift, until we finally learn to conform to the drabber expectations that we match and wear things as we're supposed to. It's that blithe disregard - for subtlety, for easy on the eye, for self-respect - that sets toddlers apart, and that creates totally unforeseen combinations born primarily of a desire for comfort and, say, a love of green. Or, to put it differently, when you're not answering to anybody's expectations of you, the very question changes. Instead of worrying about clashing colors or inappropriate informality, the toddler wonders what polka dots would look like with a tie-dyed shirt. Instead of asking Why not?, she asks, What if?

And when your toddler asks that question, you get this when you arrive to pick her up at school: Cleo, her sparkly shoes on the wrong feet, wearing goggles and a huge yellow smear of something on her left cheek, with a heart-embossed sweater and tight pink pants. One bit cavalier, one bit guileless nonchalance, one bit sloppy - and every bit lovable.