pink and blue (or rather, brown)

I have a tendency to rant about children’s clothing and the ridiculous sex segregation of shoes, underwear, coats, pants, and anything else that children wear. Last winter I wrote about my futile attempts to buy a gender-neutral winter coat and some underwear for Akka in a Facts and Arguments essay in the Globe and Mail.

I have no problem with pink, however (as long as it’s frill-free). We did buy Akka some nice pink shoes last year. Now that she’s outgrown them, I surprised myself by being reluctant to strap them on Malli’s feet. I think it’s the mary jane style more than the colour. I just felt like I’d be defending my footwear choices everywhere we went. But while I can’t change the style of the shoes, I decided I could make them a little more transferable by dying them brown:

It sort of worked. They look ok, but not great. And because Malli’s little brown and blue oxfords still fit, these formerly pink ones aren’t getting much mileage.

Then, a pair of pink suede boots (Malli’s size) came into our lives via hand-me-down:

The dye worked much better on the suede portion of the mary janes so I was inspired to give it another go. I think they turned out pretty well. What little boy (or girl) wouldn’t want to step out in these lovely brown flowered and be-jeweled boots?


2 responses to “pink and blue (or rather, brown)

  1. Frustrated with Baby Clothes Colours

    This whole gender-neutral dressing is driving me crazy, and my baby hasn’t even been born yet! Sure, we’ve got a lot of pale yellow and pale green stuff, but I want more colors.

    A couple of years ago I found a fabulous orange-and-red sleeper and bought it in two sizes for friends who had kids out in Vancouver. Do you think I could find that kind of thing again? No!

    We’ve already decided if we have a girl that we’re okay dressing her in blue. After all, it’s my favorite color of clothing to wear, so why can’t it be hers, too?

  2. Akka wore blue all the time. And people often thought she was a boy. When I’d correct them (a lot of the time I didn’t bother), they’d be so embarrassed! I’d end up having to reassure them that we weren’t offended. Ridiculous.

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