Fashion and culture blog for Los Angeles

I’m probably not that close to having children of my own, seeing as how I can’t even get a proper oil change on my car (whenever I pass a Thai restaurant, I worry that I’m smelling my transmission about to blow).  But one of my fondest activities of all time — both in childhood and present day – is scouring my mom’s closet for the circa 1980s cropped blazers, sheer maxi skirts and leather minis that have now become my own stolen wardrobe staples (mom, if you’re reading this — and you’d better be — I’m just borrowing, you can have your stuff back anytime. Except for the three pieces mentioned above. And that velvet jacket you keep asking for. I really need to keep all those).

Because of my devotion to this hobby, I ask myself the same question before every purchase I make: Is this something my daughter might be excited to steal from me one day? If the answer is “maybe,” my card is swiped.

One already-in-my-closet piece that probably fits that bill is a floral Diane Von Furstenberg dress from the very early years of the brand. Which this future unborn daughter of mine will surely see, causing her to beg for some DVF of her own to tide her over until she grows into it.

Luckily, she won’t have to beg for long now that the iconic wrap dress maker has launched a cute-as-a-button kids collaboration with Gap, which hits US stores and Gap.com on March 15.

The collection of dresses, swimwear, T-shirts and blazers are available for newborn girls up to age 14 and feature DVF’s signature bright, poppy prints. And the designer’s iconic wrap dress has even been miniaturized for wee ones, too. The goods — which also include accessories — retail from $20 to $120.

I may invest in a piece for the future. Well that, and an oil change.

Photo: Harper Smith, the daughter of Tiffani Thiessen modeling a DVF + GapKids wrap dress  at the collection’s launch event, held last Saturday at The Grove.

Well it’s official: I am the worst shopper in the entire city of Los Angeles and, perhaps, the world. You’d think because I’ve spent the past five years writing about fashion for a living (and, much longer than that, dressing myself) that I by now would know the proper way to shop a collaboration launch. Especially one as high profile as Marni for H&M, which publicly hit stores this morning.

But I don’t. At all. Proved last night, when H&M held a preview shopping event at their Sunset Plaza store. And after a lovely dinner in front of my TV and an internal debate over whether or not to go, I decided to fluff up my hair, throw on a dress and go check out the goods with hopes of buying a small souvenir for myself. At roughly 9 p.m. — fashionably late, obvs.

But instead of finding racks of Marni matriarch Consuelo Castiglioni’s quirky prints and killer, wood-adorned accessories, all I found were scraps. Why? Because rule #1 of collaboration shopping is the same as in Chicago politics — get there early, and get there often.

I broke that rule, arriving late and making a bee-line for the bar upon arrival. And I paid for it dearly. The racks were picked clean except for an odd-looking patent leather-paneled sweater, a few pairs of size 10 metallic ladies mandals and a slew of blouses in a vertigo-inducing print that shoppers quite obviously did not care for.

The majority of ladies in attendance — most of whom work professionally in fashion —  wore flats and the same makeup from their workday. Why? Because they came to win.

The line of shoppers at the register who got there earlier than I stretched to the door, and I happened upon a friend who had bought her goods when the doors opened at 7 p.m. and was already back to make returns.

Another friend carried a month-long road trip worth of bags filled with one of everything in the collection. She, too, had arrived on time. And apparently one Hollywood super-stylist not only showed up at 7, but she brought with her a team who divided, conquered  and likely scored pairs of the metallic brocade cocktail pants I had my eye on from the look book.

I only scored a glass of free vodka, a gift bag scarf and sad stares from a line of women wondering about the pathetic asshole in the party dress who got there when the clothes were all gone.

Life lesson learned: Make more money so I can afford real Marni, which is conveniently available at fine stores whenever I feel like leaving my couch and shopping.

Problem solved.

Photo: A bunch of these Marni for H&M T-shirts were left on the racks when I got there last night, too. Want one?