How I Avoided Temptation

Lik

e every parent, I have a lot to ponder: Where should my son attend preschool? When should we start toilet training? Should I let him eat toothpaste? His wardrobe, on the other hand, just sort of evolved into a jumble of hand-me-downs and Old Navy separates. I wasn't concerned with my toddler's togs — until my brother announced that he was getting married and he wanted Conor, 2 1/2, to be one of the ring bearers. Suddenly I had to shop for real.

I wanted Conor to look sharp at this wedding — not for his sake, of course, but for mine. I knew my sister-in-law would be on top of things, that her two boys would turn up lint free, with pants creased. I couldn't let her show me up. Conor had to look good so that I would look good.

Ignoring my budget (as I would never do for myself), I hit the upscale shops on Manhattan's Upper East Side. Barneys, Brooks Brothers and Saks were a bust — nothing formal in Conor's size. Bergdorf's Best & Co. shop had lovely seersucker suits and Peter Pan — collared shirts, but the point was to dress my son, not humiliate him. And Gucci's $2,000 jade green silk bomber jacket would have clashed with my lavender bridesmaid's dress.

It was at Ralph Lauren — next to a ridiculous little sportcoat cut from pink-green-and-blue madras plaid — that I spotted the Holy Grail: a perfect navy blue blazer in a smooth flannel wool. It was $240. I knew I would end up with the Gap's predictably adequate $48 version, but I lingered at Ralph Lauren, fingering the blazer's golden buttons, trying to rationalize such an indulgent purchase. It's a special occasion, I reminded myself. Nothing's too good for my boy. Besides, the jacket was cheap compared with the $525 vintage Levi's ("That's five bills for pants somebody else pooped in!" my husband exclaimed when I told him about the diminutive jeans). But I remembered that I was about to buy a garment my son would wear once and quickly outgrow and that, in today's economy, thrifty is in. I went back to the Gap.

I did allow one extravagance: a tiny pair of camel-colored Italian suede shoes that I discovered at a Daffy's downtown. Reduced from $80 to $32, they seemed like a steal, and on the big day, they looked great with Conor's khakis and borrowed tie.

The second time Conor wore his fancy bucks, he pilfered a black felt-tip pen from a "childproof" drawer and, with a few masterly strokes, turned them into everyday shoes. His $13 Spider-Man sneakers from Payless are still his favorites, though. Naturally.