When we were funny, half-made creatures,
You snapped us, caught us,
Your spotty, awkward daughters,
With 1980s features,
And style that friends had taught us
Was de rigeur, despite the fact you thought us,
Weak, for giving in to fashion.
Still you bought us
Fabric and cut and stitched and pressed
With strange, maternal passion,
That let us know we dressed
As well as all the rest,
Or better, even best.
And yet we did not value
That care you took,
Although we named our style self expression,
We wished to make the same impression
As all our friends,
And deeply craved the shop bought look.