The Problem With Maternity Clothes

First, the design. I’m firmly against the apron-strings bow in the back–which all maternity-clothing-producers love. The big bow reminds me of the ones my toddler daughters loved on their “spinny” dresses. Cute on two-year-olds…not so much when it accentuates a thirty-something bottom.

Second there’s the unusually shabby quality (I’m looking at you, Motherhood). Each pregnancy I’ve justified purchasing hundreds of dollars of maternity clothes because I can “wear them again.” Never. Of course not when I finally lose the baby weight. The last thing I want then is a empire waist that will inevitably (I’m not kidding) prompt some stranger to ask when I’m due. In subsequent pregnancies, I still can’t wear the used clothes. They’re pilled and faded and look like I washed them with an iron brush. Even Gap’s maternity line…which makes me call this a conspiracy. A Gap sundress for my girls (yes, complete with a big bow in the back) or me will last a few summers. But the makers of Gap maternity dresses must have taken lessons from Motherhood because they’re designed to look nice for about two months. I’m sure the manufacturers are banking on the fact that any woman gaining a few pounds a week won’t wear a sundress long enough to see it fall apart.

Finally, maternity clothes are expensive. One of my idiosyncrasies is that I never pay full price for clothes. I just can’t do it. I have Fashion ADD, meaning that I rarely hunt for a “signature piece.” I like to buy new clothes. And they eventually go on sale. Always.

Except maternity clothes. Pea in the Pod Jeans, fine. They’re designed by Heidi Klum, clearly not for someone like myself who has Fashion ADD. But Old Navy jeans? Come on. Old Navy is Gap’s cheap step-sister. It’s against all corporate marketing and the American Dream for them to keep charging full-price all winter long.

The dress in this picture is from Target. Like most things in my life, Target provides the option that works for my life. They carry my favorite brand of yogurt, offer my kids free cookies, and I can throw a dress on top of the array of dollar bin items we’ve collected on our trip through the store. And even though Target’s clothes have design problems (I suspect that bow I tied in front is really supposed to be accentuating my bottom), and fall apart by the fourth wash, they are cheap. This dress was $24.

Pea in the Pod would’ve slapped a Angelina Jolie label on that and charged somewhere around $200. Motherhood wouldn’t have carried it to begin with, and Gap and Old Navy would refuse to put it on the sale rack.

What’s a girl to do but count the days until she can return to the sale racks of Gap for normal-looking, normal-lasting sundresses that have no bows and (hopefully) no conspiracies?