Well, I suppose that's a bit inaccurate. Our 15-year-old son Jay, who thinks he's a Goth, would wear ripped fishnets on his arms; Chelsea, at 12, would wear her beloved color purple exclusively. Junior, 11, would dress in camouflage; and Emily, his twin, would accessorize with scepter, crown, and guillotine. (I'm quite sure that Emily, our little paragon of perfection, believes she is a changeling, switched at birth with a mortal child who rightfully belongs to our messy, sprawling family. One Halloween, I asked her what costume she might like. "I want to be a princess," she announced with grave dignity. And her sisters? "They can be my ladies-in-waiting, of course.")

Then there's Jessica, who loves her brothers' hand-me-downs, who must be coaxed into a dress, who hates the word "cute" with a passion. Of all our children, ten-year-old Jessica may have the best-developed sense of fashion, the result of many hours gazing worshipfully at photographs of Sporty Spice. She spent much of one recent summer clad in a hard hat and a neon green bikini. Jessica is all-grrrrl, and insists on dressing that way.

The ultimate fashion statement during my middle-school years in the seventies consisted of Levis, a quilted down vest worn over a hooded sweatshirt, and a pair of those ugly brown wafflestomper boots with big red laces. Then came disco on its stiletto heels, draped in Qiana and reeking of Babe.

When it came to fashion, our parents were far more permissive with us than we are with our own children. Once, in a moment of weakness, my husband told me about a tight silver spandex jumpsuit he wore constantly as a teenager. I have been unable to look at him without giggling ever since. (Of course, he never saw me in my Urban Cowgirl phase… Gunne Sax, stack-heeled boots, and a big hat. Yeeehaaa!)

These days, as somewhat liberal thirty-somethings, we encourage individuality in our children in all things: thought, deed, morality… and fashion, too. But as fairly conservative parents, we put our foot down when we feel it's necessary. Jay, for example, announced before Christmas that he wanted to start wearing makeup, which we feel is inappropriate for teenage boys. We compromised by letting him get one of his ears pierced. Our reasoning? He's old enough to take care of it; it's not as disfiguring as a tattoo; and we knew he'd stop fussing about the makeup.

Several times, we've chaperoned dances at our children's schools. And frankly, we were appalled at some of the things we saw on the young bodies of their classmates. Why would a mother let her pre-teen daughter leave the house in a clingy, translucent sheath? What father would allow his 12-year-old son to wear a $300 leather trench coat? And the parents who let their seventh grader get her tongue pierced… what were they thinking?

We are the parents of five very different kids, and we've learned that we must choose our battles carefully. Occasionally, our children accuse us of being old-fashioned and inflexible. We just smile lovingly at them and at each other, memories of silver spandex and cowgirl boots in our minds… for we are intimately aware of the perilous roads often traveled by children who grow up too quickly.