Cherub Rock
By Kim Lachance
There’s nothing dorkier than growing up and having kids, except for admitting to your still-stoned, still-free-to-take-an-uninterrupted-crap non-parent friends that you were fool enough to join the overpopulation movement.
So, to semi-sweeten that first of many bitter parenting pills, if you’re like me (hatching three kidlets in four years ... and somehow haven’t stuck my head in the oven yet) you’re all too happy to ditch the pee stick and partake in a maternal dose of retail therapy. Only this time, you won’t be buying for yourself. And if your spawn has anything to do with it, you might not ever again.
Will you swallow your procreator status and do the Walk of Shame to Target, loading up on corporate cookie-cutter baby wear, or suck it up and defiantly dress your offspring like the cool, anti-establishment misfit you used to be (or claimed to have been)? If it’s the former, good luck. You’re on your own. But if you opt for cool, L.A.’s got you (or in this case, your baby) covered.Exactly where do the local indie-obsessed breederati flock to accessorize their number one accessory? To a dozen or so trendy punk tot shops cropping up in Hollywood, Pasadena, Seal Beach, Sherman Oaks, Silver Lake, Venice, and Whittier.
“Rocker Moms, Not Soccer Moms” is the official (or superficial) motto at Sugar Baby on the Sunset Strip, where Hollywood’s big spender mamarazzi go to costume their future Johnny Cash rockabillies and Bettie Page pinups in embroidered country/western snap-up plaids, vintage material halter dresses, and wise-ass punk baby tees.
Designer onesies are so darn cute, aren’t they? Not to the Sugar mamas who kidnapped baby’s essential first outfit on the “Highway to Hell,” then played punch-drunk Boggle with AC/DC’s classic thunderbolt logo. The outcome: a best-selling “AB/CD” witty onesie (one soon-to-be dirtied deed that at $38.95 doesn’t come dirt-cheap).
Middle-aged, card-carrying Big Hair Anonymous parentals can scoop up Sugar Baby’s “Louder Than Black Sabbath” inscribed babywear (bummer they don’t come with matching earplugs). And for Jah’s toddling Rastafarians, Roots Rock Baby offers teeny Bob Marley T-shirts that say, “No Baby, No Cry” in red, yellow, and green letters. Daddy’s post-bedtime bedlam bong hit not included.
If punk isn’t your flavor (or your wee glamour puss’s), choose from Sugar Baby’s frilly expanse of extra-poofy petticoat tutus (for an extra-poofy $84.95 each). Or, for about half the price, your cherub rocker can feebly stage dive at the next painfully before-hours Baby Loves Disco bash (which happens to be July 19 at the bar at Social Hollywood on Sunset) in a satin sash tutu with faux rose petals floating inside tufts of tulle.
Don’t overlook – but you couldn’t! – Seal Beach designer Theresa Miraglia’s handmade MiniMANIACS crumb catchers: big, sturdy cotton/pleather novelty bibs that wipe out pastel overkill and outlast inexperienced eaters. Novelty inserts include chunky rapper chains and dollar signs; dice and poker chips; chopsticks and plastic sushi; and safety pins and zippers with no other function than fashion, tucked neatly (and safely) behind clear, mildew-resistant vinyl. You won’t find slurp and burp sets with names like these at the Children’s Place: “Poser Baby,” “Ahh So Baby,” “High Roller,” and “G-Dog.” When your baby masters saliva control, upgrade to Miraglia’s neo-vintage concert flyer tees, featuring iron-ons of the Dead Kennedys, the Misfits and Social Distortion.
Hip or not, dressing a baby like a grown-up is like putting a sweater on a dog. Both are oblivious victims of their owner’s fashion sense (or nonsense). And, sure, turning a newborn into a clone of Joey Ramone, whose name he can’t yet pronounce, seems wrong, but not when it’s done right and for the right reasons – by parents who are still punk rock enough to give Sweatshop Watch retailers like babyGap and Old Navy the one-finger salute right where it counts: the cash register.
Published: 07/02/2008
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