The Alligator That Didn’t Belong

When I was in junior high, it felt like everything was about fitting in. I went to a school where many of the kids came from wealthier families, and it seemed like every day was a fashion show of the latest and greatest name brands. One of the most popular brands at the time was Izod. Everywhere I looked, kids were wearing Izod shirts and socks, with the little green alligator logo displayed proudly. That alligator became a symbol of status, something that everyone seemed to have—except for me.

My family did not buy the expensive name-brand clothes that so many of the kids at my school wore. Instead of Izod, I wore discount polo shirts from Target or other stores, shirts that looked similar but were missing that crucial alligator. I didn’t feel poor or lacking at home, but at school, that little logo felt like a glaring reminder that I didn’t quite belong.

My closest friend, Mary Jo, was clever and crafty, and together we came up with a plan! We pooled our babysitting money and took a trip to the big Southdale Mall. And because I am an art and architecture nerd, I have to tell you that the Southdale Mall, located in Edina, Minnesota was the first fully enclosed, climate-controlled shopping mall in the world and was designed by Austrian born architect Victor Gruen and opened in 1956. OK, now back to the story. We headed straight for Dayton’s, a department store known for its high-quality (and high-priced) items. We couldn’t afford much, but we had just enough money to what we had gone there for. We placed our crumpled dollar bills and coins on the counter. We had just enough to buy four pairs of Izod socks.

Afterward, we headed back to Mary Jo’s house, excited about our plan. With her seam ripper in hand, she carefully removed the alligator logos from the socks. For hours, we sat on her floor as she meticulously sewed those tiny alligators onto our discount polo shirts. By the time we were done, we had what we thought were our very own Izod shirts, just like the popular kids.

At the time, this felt like a victory. We’d found a way to "fit in" without spending what we didn’t have. But now, looking back, the memory makes me feel a mix of sadness and a bit of shame. It saddens me that I felt such a strong need to fit in that I was willing to put so much effort into imitating something that, in the grand scheme of things, didn’t matter.

Now, I know that wearing a certain brand or displaying a certain logo doesn’t make someone more important or valuable. Those kids wearing the "real" Izod shirts weren’t any better than Mary Jo or me. We were enough just as we were.

Back then, I didn’t understand that the most important thing was being myself, not trying to fit into someone else’s version of what was "cool." The little green alligator might have seemed important at the time, but now I know that true worth doesn’t come from a logo stitched on a shirt—it comes from within.