I went to the mall. That may not surprise you though it is out of character for me. There was a specific errand that had to be done, and I did it. No drama there. 

But what caught my attention, an infrequent visitor to the tidal wave of fashion trends, was the pressure on young women to look a certain way. In ten foot photoshopped images, girls who used to know how to laugh covered the walls, the windows, the dressing room doors. I wondered how they felt, being stripped down to unmentionables, or when they wore clothes, given no choice about the blue or the white tank top.

"Stand here."

"Hold this."

"Bend more. Now less."

"Look distant. Bored. Saucy. Naughty."

A long time ago two of my own girls modeled for a children's catalogue. But the circumstances were as friendly as it gets. They walked away not with money, but with shoes with bunnies on them, and cotton fair trade dresses in plum and robin's egg blue. 

But the message of marketing now is tighter than a corset, and it is no wonder that young girls cannot breathe.