Image: Brijesh Patel
January 20 2011
Pride in one’s own children is an inalienable part of the parenting process, and while I have tried not to interpret everything from the first gurgle of infancy to the initial faltering squiggles of cursive writing as indicators of incipient genius, I must admit to having been impressed by my younger son’s precocity the other day.
He has reached the age where people tend to give him cash to mark birthdays and religious festivals. Come the start of the year he had assembled a reasonably large sum, which he took with him to Portobello Market. Alas I was away in Switzerland in training for my non-skiing holiday, eating lunch in the Eagle Club in Gstaad, so I was unable to witness what happened next, but as far as I can tell he went and blew the lot on a vintage sheepskin coat.
He has an intuitively intriguing dress sense that enables him to throw together an outfit that is both considered and eye-catching. I would like to think that this is some sort of genetic predisposition but he achieves this with an ease that I find impossible to match – I am not gifted with his innate dress sense; I have had to work at it. Even so, I was impressed that an 11-year-old would see fit to spend far too much on a sheepskin coat, admittedly a very attractive one.
It is the accepted order of things that male children wear the clothes of their forebears; I still have a couple of bits and pieces from my grandfather. However, if my son keeps up his extravagance this time-validated tradition will be reversed and it is I who will be raiding his wardrobe.