As parents, you are subjected to a lot of crappy entertainment for your kids' sake. When someone gets it right, it is like a breath of fresh air (I'm looking at you
Phineas and Ferb.) And when it is bad, its like adding insult to injury. You already gave up everything that made you cool when you had kids, and now you have to sit through inane, painful TV shows as well? (I'm looking at you, Twist.)
The number one offender of the "Shows That Make Parent's Want to Scrape Their Eyeballs Out With Spoons and Stuff Them in Their Ears" category is
Caillou. If you are not familiar with this little French Canadian jerk, then consider yourself lucky. Basically it is a show about a super entitled 4-year old who gets whatever he wants and teaches his parents valuable lessons - you know, just like real life. Part Time Author friend,
Kacy already did an amazing job describing how
Caillou makes us feel sorry for ourselves as parents. She was spot on. So I want to focus on what is most offensive to me about this show: what we are teaching our kids about fashion. Let's break it down character by character, shall we?
First of all, what season is it?
Caillou is dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and everyone else is ready to run the iditarod. When you look at these are cartoons, you might be thinking - no biggie. Primary colors, blah, blah, blah. But dig a little deeper. Imagine these clothes on real people. It's unbearable. Do people in Canada really dress this way?
Caillou's mom (Doris) is wearing high waisted baggy jeans (?,) an ill-fitting red sweater/sweatshirt over top a yellow, lacy long sleeved blouse with lace cuffs. Or maybe it is a yellow dickie? I wouldn't put it past her. And to really make it pop she has paired it with some teal and green ballet flats with bows on the front. And somehow, none of that is the worst part. The worst part is the blue headband that smooshes her bangs down to her forehead. Who does that?
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| Don't you want to punch him? |
Caillou's dad (Boris) is sporting jeans. OK so far. Then he layered a green sweater over a red mock-turtleneck. And since that burst of red at the neck line wasn't enough, he has cuffed the sleeves to really show it off. Daring. And what says douche bag more than finishing your outfit off with red penny loafers with big gold buckles? I'll tell you what: the fact that Boris wore a top-hat to his wedding. What a tool.
Rosie is Caillou's little sister (In Canada her name is Mousseline, which, correct me if I am wrong, is a kind of meat patè?) I don't want to be too hard on Rosie, because she is only 2 and I don't want her to have self esteem issues as an adult and start a blog about how she was never good enough. Suffice it to say she is dressed like Laura Ingalls waiting to go out into the ice and snow and make maple syrup candy. Seriously, is it winter? Summer? PICK A SEASON!
Which leaves us with Grandma (Floris? I don't know.) Oh, Grandma. I think when wearing a red mumu, it is always best to have a blue mandarin collar blouse underneath to give some definition and shorten your neck. You can see where Doris got her great hair styling tips from. Nothing frames your face like a big green headband pushing your hair onto your forehead. Sigh. For the record, I kind a dig the over-sized green purse for a nice color pop. Good job!
Which leaves you, little bald Caillou. Why do you have no hair when the rest of your family has in such abundance. When I googled "Why doesn't Caillou have any hair" the internet rumor that came back was that he has cancer. Or lice. Which, according to PBS, is not true. He's just bald. I don't judge him for that.
I have no hair and it isn't my fault. I do judge his parents for his baggy yellow henley with red trim. And I judge him for being so whiny and entitled and siging that song about how "growing up is not so tough, cept when I've had enough." Too true...too true.
