It seems that the very accomplished mother of Olympian Michael Phelps wears Chico's clothes. She loves them so much, they were her clothes of choice when she went to the Olympics to cheer her son.
Her clothes were noticed by Chico's themselves, and much crowing ensued. In fact, they were so thrilled with the unexpected windfall of advertising, they have visited upon her a lovely endorsement deal.
What they love best about this is, as opposed to those boring old celebrities, Mrs Phelps is a real woman (in addition to being the mother of Michael Phelps, she is also a middle school principal), and they figure the women of America want to know what real women are wearing so they can buy same. Which is true.
But what truly impressed me was the fact Debbie Phelp's HAD a brand of clothes she wore the most.
So I had a look-see around my wardrobe, just so I'll be ready with my fave designer the next time one of my children decides to become world famous, and I have to be there.
My closets were appalling.
Not only was there no rhyme or reason, the closets were barely color co-ordinated, unmatched hangers proliferated, and jeans, too small and too expensive, hung there hooting at me. Obviously, behind my back, a schizophrenic or triple Gemini picks out my clothes, and then deliberately visits mayhem upon my closets.
This must be what happens when one raises an Olympic champion. Through sheer practicality one's closet takes on epic levels of clarity, order, and attention to detail. So that a favorite designer will be able to emerge out of the crowd.
In closing, I must grudgingly admit that after all those years of getting Junior to the pool at 5:00 am, Mrs. Phelp's deserves her very own special rewards.
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