Confession: I’ve got a bit of a jealousy issue. Not about the latest tech gadget I can’t afford, or whoever Henry Cavill‘s allegedly been seen with out on the town (sorry, Kaley Cuoco, but I refuse to believe it). So who’s the object of my envy? Let’s just say, it’s a girl who gets adorable Chloe and Vivienne Westwood shoes sent to her on the reg. Her everyday wardrobe consists of Marc Jacobs and Stella McCartney. She never looks less than super cute and she hangs out with Victoria and David Beckham ALL THE DAMN TIME.
I’m talking about Harper Seven Beckham. Who turns two-years-old today.
And you know what that means: Even more presents. More Ralph Lauren. More 7 For All Mankind. More Dior. More glorious clothes and shoes by labels that mean absolutely nothing to a two-year-old, regardless of her parents–but mean so, so much to a 26-year-old who’s struggling to cope with the fact that the 11-or-so channels that constitute basic cable are now costing her $23 a month are you kidding me Time Warner??
In spite of the fact that I work in fashion, my shopping habits generally revolve around three fast fashion stores that exist within a four-block radius of my office (or ASOS if I’m feeling risky). I buy all of my makeup from the drugstore. Right now I’m wearing a hand-me-down top that once belonged to my older cousin. It’s been in my possession since the 6th grade–12 years before little Harper even existed. And my umbrella just flipped inside out and now one of the spokes is sticking out. I could poke my eye out at any moment. Do you know how scary that is? Really effing scary.
But Harper Beckham doesn’t understand that kind of fear. She’s practically carried through life–ok, she’s literally carried through life. She has a fashion designer put together outfits for her every morning, and sometimes in the afternoons when she spills her gluten-free Spagetti-O’s at lunch. An H&M underwear model tucks her into her tiny special edition Gucci Fiat 500 car bed at 7pm each night. When she looks up, there’s a custom-made Damien Hirst dangling overhead. And if she ever has to wear hand-me-downs, they’ll be DVF from Suri Cruise or some chic androgynous Burberry gear from her older bro Romeo. Harper Beckham pretty much gets to do whatever she wants. Unless, of course, it’s nap time.
And I’m so jealous.