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In Vogue

By Debbie Farmer

But, I realize, my natural look isn't what Cosmo had in mind. It would take five facelifts, two years of body sculpting and a miracle to achieve the natural look of the stylish fashion models. Neither my cheekbones nor my bustline would ever be high enough to truly be in style.

In my home, I knew it would take more than throwing an afghan over the sofa to create the natural look. I would have to hire an Italian designer and get rid of both my furniture and my family to give my home the ambiance of natural elegance.

I contented myself by tying my apron at a jaunty angle as I scooped dinner out of the pan and onto plates. Sweat poured down my cheek from the hot stove and I felt my mascara start to run.

"Mommy," my daughter said as I placed the food in front of her, "you look pretty."

I smiled and tossed the baby's spit-up rag casually over my shoulder. I might not be dressed to kill at the office, but I was dressed to survive my day at home. I looked at my family and realized that fashion didn't really matter because my children would still love me -- even without matching accessories.