I remember the time that I swore becoming a mother wouldn’t affect my style.

I just said no to “mom jeans” and “mom shoes” (well, mostly, save for one pair of thick-rubber-soled, granola-friendly Mary Janes from Tsubo) and even when my postpartum arse was all but unconcealable, I stockpiled A-line skirts instead of a drawer full of stretchy yoga pants.

But now, there’s no escaping it: I’ve been marked as a mom.

Oh, tell me you haven't worn one too. Or two. Or 16. I'm talking Double Rhombus Rainbows, Double Braid Multis, Hexafish, Chevrons, Honeycombs, Tulip Towers. Or maybe it's a lanyard. Maybe it's a loop lo made of a whole bunch of threads, kind of braided but eh, not really, and it's hanging around your neck. Maybe it's old school macaroni noodles on a string.

Just look at the wrist, neck, or ears of any adult and you’ll know instantly who has spawned. It’s a faster way to say “mom” than a breast milk stain on a silk shirt.

So yeah, I remember the time that I swore becoming a mother wouldn’t affect my style.

That was before I knew that those lopsided necklaces, those frayed string bracelets, those stretchy, disposable Rainbow Looms were imbued with so much pure love. And before I knew that if one kid gives you one, the other has to give you one too. And then when kid #1 gives you a third one, kid #2 has to give you a fourth one.

Next thing you know, you’re up to your elbows in plastic rainbows.

Oh, you parents of four children or more -- I do feel for you.

And yes, I did wear them to a business meeting recently.

But you know? Turns out I wasn’t the only one.

Solidarity.