Entering the World of Fairy, or, I Did This To Myself

As anyone with a lick of sense knows, the second most important day in the year is RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER. This being the case, I figured I better start polling the Girleens about what they wanted to be for Halloween, because woe betide the mom who leaves this to the last minute.

They said "Fairies." Or, more accurately, Elder Girleen said "FAIRY, Fairy, Fairy!" and Younger Girleen studied her closely and said "Ohhh-Kay." I was so thrilled that the answer was not "PRINCESS, Princess, Princess!" that I highed myself over to the computer and typed in "fairy wings," because, as anyone with a lick of sense also knows, to transform two small children into delicate fairy-like beings takes time.

Let this be your source for breaking news: there are 495.00 dollar fairy wings a bride can wear to her wedding. Fairy flower girls are now a marketed concept. In fact, I could spent the rest of my natual life trolling internet sites about fairies.

Mattel's recent packaging of Tinkerbell and her "friends" aside, fairies have become the role-playing choice du jour of daughters of beleaguered women everywhere. Princesses carry HUGE baggage (for grown-up women at least, four-year-olds, who have the dress sensibility of drag queens, just like the spangles). Fairies, on the other hand, are magic, can fly, and are mischievous. Plus, they still get to dress in spangles.

Actually, now that I think about it, a more accurate observation might be: due to Mattel's recent packaging of Tinkerbell and her friends, beleaguered women everywhere have been convinced by their daughters under six, who swim in a media sea we can't even begin to imagine, that fairies are a better role playing choice than princesses.

Elder Girleen, unique being though she is, tends to go with the mainstream: she was Cinderella the Halloween there were twenty other tiny Cinderellas roaming our block. Astute anthropologist that I am, I realized this was also the same exact second that Disney repackaged the Cinderella movie and I suspect Tinkerbell is a calculated, mercenary attempt to cash in on the conflicted emotions of our nation's moms. Let me know how many tiny fairies knock on your door come October 31.

But because I'm the kind of mom who can be convinced that fairies might somehow be "better" than princesses, I've also deluded myself into believing that store-bought costumes suck originality from our children's lives: way back in the dark ages of the 1970's, we made our costumes, utilizing our creativity (Actually, we were utilizing our mothers' creativity). To avoid fairy costumes with Tinkerbell's face printed front-and-center on the bodice, I would make the Girleens' costumes. Some fairy wings, tutus and leotards they already have, glitter, and there you go! Instant fairy.

Then I found the Apple Blossom Fairy.

Yeah, the poem's a little cloying, but oh, those fairies!!! That petal collar for the younger one! And the older one has brown hair exactly like Elder Girleen's! Flower fairies apparently were an Edwardian craze and just say the words "Edwardian craze" (as opposed to 2007's marketing concept in girl's toys) and I'm all over it.

How hard could it be? Buy some fairy wings, make a little collar for Younger Girleen, and find a apple-blossom green flowing nightgown for Elder Girleen.

This is how the moms we all love to hate are born. You know, the ones whose children never have dirty faces, who make pies from scratch, etc etc .... insert whatever aspect of momdom makes you feel most lacking here.

The only flowing nylon nightgown I've been able to find that doesn't have a branded character on it will cost 40 bucks.

Storebought costumes might be the name of the game.