Open Letter to Kids with Swag

Dear Kids with Swag,

I’ll admit it. You’ve got it. The flash factor, the swayze stuff. The magic mojo. Well, not quite that, but you’re cool, cat. I would say props to your parents, but really, I think it’s all you behind those Wayfarer’s. Your mom may have bought you the clothes, your dad may have tipped your hat, and they may have named you after the most ridiculous thing, like Pumpernickel bread, but you’ve made it all your own.

You’ve earned that title.

It can’t be easy being a KWS. Kids are mean, after all, and being a fly Pre-K trendsetter probably means you’ve attracted some haters. But I’ve got a feeling you’re not paying attention to primary school, or even secondary school. You’re eating show tunes and spitting rhymes along with your morning Cheerios.

You’re mixing beats instead of finger paints. And forget about basketballs, you’re shooting stone-cold stares on that play turf.

I won’t bore you with the ancient tales of me as a young lass, mismatching my Esprit sweats with zoobas, and twisting my hair into a million tiny butterfly clips. Or about how in my day, there weren’t any Children with Swag tumblrs, no style blogs, or—you guessed it—any Internet at all from which I could measure my imaginative yet horribly assembled ensembles.

I won’t wax nostalgic over how kids these days are more cued into fashion than ever, but lacking a certain originality, or at least, a creative naivete that only exists in those magical years before you find out that there are “rules” for fashion, and for French kissing, and for everything else.

Because you don’t need to know any of that. All you need to worry about is being a kid, with or without your swag. But I will say this: You look good, babes. And don’t get down when the kids mock you for being named Pumpernickel. That’s your parents’ fault.

xo,

Karina