Once upon a time in a very far-off kingdom, a tiny princess was born. Her father the King declared a mandatory baby shower, because when a man first meets his baby daughter, he melts into a puddle and wishes for nothing more than to giver her everything, even more than what he already has (yes, even if what he already has is pretty much everything). So, every seamstress in town and country was directed to spin and weave and quilt and bind and sew until the princess should have a royal wardrobe befitting of her father’s desires. It’s no secret that women getting together for a baby shower know how to GET IT DONE, and these women were no exception. It was decided among them that it would be the epitome of silliness should ALL of the gifted garments be teeny-baby sized, so they organized themselves and each took responsibility for one set of royal dress to be worn on a specific day in the life of the little one--the later a seamstress signed up, the bigger the outfit she’d be making. In this way they progressed, until the day of the shower came, and these thoughtful women all gathered to present their lavish-yet-mandatory gift: not one, not two, not ten, but eighty-seven years worth of fine outfits, on the day the young miss turned sixteen days old.
After stocking the royal closet with a forest-worth of moth balls, the King and Queen happily settled into a routine of caring for their sweet girl, dressing her daily in whichever ensemble had been intended for her use that day by its handcrafter. However, when the princess turned four, she took a great interest in dressing herself, and indeed, over the course of the year, insisted more and more upon managing for herself the great gift which, because of her father’s wisdom and provision, had been bestowed to her. Her parents decided to allow it.
“This closet, and everything in it, is yours!,” her they proudly proclaimed as they passed her the key to the room. She opened the door and immediately shut it tight again. The sight of three miles of stored clothing, not to mention the overwhelming scent of cedar, was too much for her senses. She sheepishly looked up at her father and, thinking carefully, asked, “Papa, how exactly, might you... recommend I go about, in er, understanding - this?”
How proud the pair was of their heir in that moment! They knelt down and promised that every day, as she approached her trove, they would direct her in the best way to go; which compartment held the best clothing for each season, what hats went best with which shoes, and whether there was any wind chill that day, requiring use of a scarf, to say nothing of matching colors and patterns! They vowed to help her with each of these challenges until the day should come, and they were sure it would, when she knew their advice so well, she wouldn’t need it any more. They were right, of course. By the time the lovely princess had grown into young adulthood, she completely managed her past, present, and future clothes on her own, and with quite a fashionable eye, it was said by all.