Being forced against my will to see the Justin Beiber movie “Never Say Never” unleashed a flood of repressed memories from the pre-tween concerts I have been guilted into attending for the past several years. I believe the memories were triggered by the site of mothers squeezed into youth size Justin Bieber t-shirts they undoubtedly purchased at one of his concerts or at Justice, the “trampy store for 10 year olds that want to pretend they’re sixteen.” The t-shirts, in most cases, were stretched so throughly over the mom’s torso that Justin’s head took on an oblong alien shape or worse his eyes were right at boob level which made a very disconcerting 3-D visual – nipple eyes.
My Disney band/Bieber concert odyssey started two years ago when my then 8-year-old daughter begged to go see the Jonas Brothers. That set off a kid concert extravaganza that to date numbers: 1 Bieber, 1 Hannah Montana, 1 Demi Lovato, 2 Jonas Brothers and an assortment of mid level Disney/ Nickelodeon stars that play smaller venues. My entertainment at these concerts is not the “music” being piped in, played on stage and the amazing lip syncing, vocal talents of these teenagers, but the mothers who chaperone their daughters to these events. It’s a whole lot of inappropriate maternal fashion statements. I saw everything from Creepaburbia to Skanksville and depending on who was providing the musical entertainment the fashions got worse. In order of least offensive to most slutty moms in one location I now present to you: The Tween Concert Countdown of Mom’s Who Dress Like Hookers to Attend a Children’s Event. Due to time constraints I will focus only on the top 3 offenders.
I admit to being bewildered that the then purity ring wearing Jonas Brothers brought out a whole lot of moms who dressed like they thought they were going to hook up with Joe, the hottest bro. This was my first real pop concert with my daughter, because I don’t think you can count Disney Princesses on Ice or My Little Pony Live as a “musical event.” (Although, the ponies did bring it – especially Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie.) My debut Jonas Brother’s concert was at an outdoor venue. I was dressed for the 90 degree heat in my brown cropped 50/50 linen/rayon pants, (with a flare to draw your eye away from the cankles) a short-sleeved top and sandals. That outfit qualified me as a mother in the 35 and over age group with the most clothes on.
There was a cluster of moms clad in short shorts, platform flip-flops and bikini tops with maybe a t-shirt over their collapsing cleavage. (I did see the concert on the West Coast so a lot of the cleavage was not so much collapsing as vertically challenged.) The thing that surprised me the most was the shorts. Okay, I know it’s hot out, but butt cheek shorts are not a good look on anyone at any age. Plus, you have to factor in the naked check on a metal seat heated by the sun to about 136 degree celsius. That’s fanny flesh on fire temperatures and your gluts are never good grilled or pan seared. Why grown women did not take this fact into consideration astounds me. Isn’t it our job as mothers to always be thinking of potential health hazards? Oh yeah, I felt like a real smarty pants when I could sit down without experiencing severe ass ablaze syndrome. Although it did feel as if my lycra underwear was being thermally fused to my pants. The shorty short moms had to take off their t-shirts (if they weren’t already off) and place it over their seat so they could lower their butt onto the steel chair without 2nd degree burns. Another fashion anomaly was the use of ski hats in summer. So, you’re dressed in shorts that show cheek and a bikini top, but then you have on a ski hat, cap or toboggan thingy? I don’t get it. I know the concert was in California and all, but why the ski hat and especially why the ski hat when you’re of legal drinking and voting age? Didn’t we all turn in our hipster card when we became gainfully employed at a job that offers health insurance and a 401 K? Besides, you’re a mom at a Jonas Brothers concert could you be anymore un-cool? Little did I know that these Jo Bro moms would be the cream of the crop when it came to concert couture.
The Justin Bieber concert moms brought out the M.I.M.’s (mentally impaired moms)with a secondary diagnosis of fatal fashion victim disorder with a vengeance. It was a flotilla of middle-aged woman dressing like 15 year olds which as we all know just makes you look older, (much older), not younger. These moms embraced the Justin Bieber theme of purple. Just in case you didn’t know purple is Justin’s most favorite color ever. They had purple fingernails, purple toe nails, purple hair extensions (that’s right I said hair extensions), purple eye shadow, purple t-shirts, purple toothpick jeans and purple Converse high top sneakers. It was almost as it your eyes were playing tricks on you, because from the back you would think maybe you were looking at a teenager, but then they would turn around and it was a yikes and a sweet Lord save me moment! The front was all 35 and beyond.
Why any mature woman would want to dress like a love-sick, middle school dropout is troubling. Do these women think that Justin Beiber, a 16 year child who has yet to hit puberty, will some how spot them from the stage and fall in love with them? Because there’s a word for that – pedophile. I can think of no occasion where I want to wear the same clothes as my daughter unless it’s our matching holiday pajamas. Curious I asked the woman sitting next to me at the concert why she was dressed like a tween. No, I didn’t say it like that – it went more like this, “I love your outfit. Where did you find all that purple?” My seat neighbor went into detail about how she just “loved Justin” as much as “her daughter did” and that he was “her hero.” Okay, that did it, I went in for more, I asked her, “Do you know what the word hero actually means?” “Well,” she responded, “I worship him. He’s so talented. That makes him my hero -right? I mean don’t you love him too.” “Um, no,” I said, “He’s a kid who needs to get his hair out of his eyes. I’m here strictly as a chaperone and chauffeur for my daughter.” We would have continued discussing the finer points of the Bieber, but a picture of Justin flashed on the Jumbotron screens and the arena was engulfed in high-pitched elementary girl screams that I’m sure have permanently paralyzed a portion of my auditory nerve. When Justin finally come on stage after all the various opening acts the woman began to weep. What else could I do but take the Kleenex tissues, that were acting as makeshift noise cancelling headphones, out of my ears, and hand her one.
Nothing can even begin to compete with the moms working it at the Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus concert. It looked like I was at a casting call for The Real Housewives of Tramptown. Were these women channeling their fashion muse Tish Cyrus – Miley’s mom? Tish, if you’ve never seen her, has the well-worn rocker chick look of long, over processed, over flat ironed, white blond hair with at least 2 inches of black roots. A face with over tweezed, joker eyebrows, a forehead so full of botox her kids could probably get arsenic poisoning from kissing her goodnight and lips that look like their fresh from the catfish pond at their Beverly Hillbillies mansion. If L.A. has an environmental catastrophe, never fear – Tish’s turbo Brite Smile, glow in the dark, L.E.D. light teeth will serve as spotlights creating landing beacons for first responders. She’s also one very skinny chick with a pair of L.A. super boobies that are in no way in accordance with her B.M.I. and defy gravity and possibly the speed of light and sound. The Tish look could be seen in 1 out of 10 moms. First, you noticed the long, long hair. Then the frozen face. For fun at the concession stand I would startle moms with an abrupt excuse me just to see if their forehead would move. Their overly collagen padded lips looked like they needed training bras as they slurped their, surprise, margaritas at the concert. I was also in awe of their ability to walk up and down the arena’s steep steps in their stripper stilettos and not experience a full nipple exposure in their low-cut knit tops. As for those jeans they were wearing – I’m hoping they had their ob/gyn on speed dial because one of two things were happening. First their fertility was being compromised by the eternal and internal denim wedgie they were sporting and secondly, at the very least, they were 12 hours away from a urinary tract infection. I’m guessing these moms were either hoping to meet their idol Tish Cyrus, or were mistakenly informed that there would be speed dating featuring rocker dads post concert.
It’s enough to make me miss the woman who wore pajama bottoms and slippers to Disney’s Princesses on Ice. Hey, at least she was fully clothed and those Croc’s were lined with faux fur making them, I guess, less of a house slipper and more of an all-weather clog.
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Snarky in the Suburbs 