“You Don’t Get My Mother’s Cool, Glamorous Style”

Father’s pedestrian tastes come under scrutiny

I do actually get Laurea’s style, but I am continually astonished when strange new parcels arrive, bearing shiny silver boots or boxy frocks. For years, I was the guy who monochromatically color-matched all his pants and shirts, so the riot of color and angle that Laurea has brought to my life is a real side-benefit of this relationship we share. Kina, who has inherited Laurea’s style DNA, comes by this naturally, which means that the two of them can look down their noses at me whenever I don’t understand the subtle impact of some shoe or another.

I like being the baffled outsider sometimes—no expectations to meet, and it gives my daughter a meaningful skill to lord over me, which she would likely do anyway, but this way I can contain it to dresses.

Today’s Parade doesn’t translate well as a photograph, unfortunately, but I can tell you that it depicts Kina inside Laurea’s belly. Laurea is wearing a chunky necklace, has bright orange hair, and is either a cloud or a ghost. Come see it when the MoMA eventually gives me a retrospective for this project; it’s a good one.

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