The style counsel

Passion for fashion: Bex Roberts, right, inherited her love of shoes and clothes from her mother, Ro, a former Mary Quant model. Photo / Dean Purcell

When it comes to mothers, daughters and fashion, the cliches tend to sit at either end of the spectrum. There are the collaborative, fashion-loving mums and daughters who shop together and even swap clothes with each other. Then there are those for whom fashion is something of a war zone; these are members of the I-hope-you're-not-leaving-the-house-wearing-that brigade - a disapproving phrase which, incidentally, can be used by either party to equal effect.

But somewhere between the extreme stereotypes are real life mother-daughter combinations who wrestle with all-too-familiar fashion dilemmas. In discovering and continually refining their own authentic dress sense they must strategically navigate the line between comfort and style, practicality and frivolity, frugality and extravagance, conformity and individuality, new and vintage, classic and quirky. And, at the same time, they must face up to the eternal style conundrum of where to buy that elusive perfect pair of jeans.

Bex Roberts is lucky enough to have fashion items passed on from her mother. But these aren't just any old hand-me-downs, for Ro Roberts worked and modelled for Mary Quant in Britain in the late 1960s. "Mum's got a very cool wardrobe," says Bex.

And it's a wardrobe Ro is more than willing to share with her daughter. Bex, 27, recalls borrowing an outfit from her mother for the first time when she was about 14. "It was a Mary Quant black A-line dress with a white cut-out daisy in the middle," she says. "It would have been the first time I'd really dressed up."

Sharing clothing and footwear was to become something of a mother-daughter tradition for the Roberts. "I had a pair of lovely blue suede and maroon Yves Saint Laurent boots that she coveted for ages," says Ro, 56. "I gave them to her in the end. She kept on and on and on. I still have a lovely pair of black evening Yves Saint Laurent boots with gold in them. She hasn't got them yet but it's probably only a question of time. She wears me down in the end."

When it comes to weekday wear, what the Roberts don is largely dictated by their roles in Red Honey, the company which runs Auckland's M.A.C and Jo Malone stores. Bex, who is operations manager, usually wears smart - "but quite funky, not corporate" - dresses, tights and high heels, while managing director Ro often tries to reflect the respective personality of the brands in her choice of clothing.

If she's representing edgy cosmetic house M.A.C she'll probably be clad in black, "because you can wear any colour eye shadow or lipstick with black."

But if she's working for Jo Malone, the more establishment fragrance and skincare boutique, she'll wear its signature cream and black colours.

"I had a beautiful Trelise [Cooper] dress I wore for our vanilla and anise launch. It looked like it was made for Jo Malone. It was cream with black ribbon edging," she says. "Someone said to me: You look like your wrapping'. I said: Yeah, I know'."

But there's another key factor influencing the wardrobes of these women - husband and father Kevin Roberts. When he's not absorbed in his role as Saatchi & Saatchi's New York-based global chief executive, it seems he spends much of his time purchasing designer clothes and accessories for his wife and daughter back home.

"My husband's an amazing shopper," says Ro. "He's got all our sizes in his diary - clothing and shoes. He's a fantastic shopper. Everyone wants a Kevin in their family."

For Ro's last birthday he presented her with a white leather Chanel handbag "with almost like a chain bracelet strap" - one of a limited edition of just five. Shoes were Bex's latest gift from her father.

"He bought me a pair of Louboutins a couple of weeks ago and the reason he bought them was because they reminded him of a pair that Mum had when she was really young," she says. "We're very, very lucky, both Mum and I. To be honest, Dad does buy us a lot of our stuff."

An obsession with shoes is a recurring theme in the Roberts' household. "Mum's passed on the love for ridiculously high shoes," says Bex. Ro can't argue with that.

"I was a shoe maniac - I still am really - but unfortunately now I can't wear high heels so much because I've really done my feet in wearing high shoes," she says. "I used to wear four-inch stilettos for years all day and now it's payback time."

Lauren Smith and her mother Kathy Bisman are polar opposites when it comes to fashion. Twenty-three-year-old Lauren, a Christchurch administration assistant and serious clothes junkie, describes her style as "office kooky".

On the other hand, pure pragmatism drives Kathy's choice of dress in her role as proprietor and publican at the Little River Hotel. "I've got to look neat, clean and tidy in front of the customers but still be able to pull out the weeds in the garden and get behind the bar and pull the pints," she says.

Kathy's working wardrobe consists of multicoloured print tops, appreciated for their ability to camouflage stains, and denim trousers.

"Denim, to me, is seen as a working garment and I still use it as a working garment. It's nice to see it back into fashion."

But Lauren is aghast that her 55-year-old shopping-averse mother makes such sweeping statements about fashion.

"It makes me cringe. She shouldn't know what's in," she says. "I was like: Mum, yes denim is in. Like semi-faded, stone-washed skinnies. They're in. Denim all over? That's not in."'

According to Lauren, her mother has "always encouraged my random style of dress. I do believe when I was very little I wore orange tights, a purple skirt and a red wool jumper all together. I chose it and Mum was, like, that's nice, dear', whereas these days it would be me saying, oh Mum, you can't go out it that. You have to put something else on'. Sometimes I feel terrible for being so judgmental but I think everyone has a mirror."

But it's Kathy's turn to lay down the law when Lauren visits her parents at their pub.

"Mark and I have a certain standard that must be worn in the hotel at all times and Lauren gets really uptight with me saying: Hey, change'. That dress code has to happen from the moment she steps in the door. From a behind-the-bar point of view in a country hotel, I don't want her wearing hoodies. And some of the messages on T-shirts are not necessary in our situation." So how does Lauren respond?

"There's no comment," says Kathy. "It's a look. It's you know, oh God, here she is again'."

Kathy believes Lauren's fashion style will mature with time.

"It will come as she grows up and as she changes different parts of her life. She will see that she has to ... I won't say conform' ... I think you can still have your own sense of style but still be accepted within the group you belong to."

Kathy thinks peer pressure and popular culture have sparked her daughter's passion for fashion. But Lauren, who completed a degree majoring in clothing and textiles at the University of Otago and dreams of becoming a fashion commentator, credits a childhood spent wearing secondhand op shop clothes for shaping her attitudes.

"That's where my love of fashion has come from ... never having new clothes, so now I crave them. Every time I got a pay-packet I was out buying new clothes."

Seeing a pair of Gucci pants still with its tags on was "an awakening" for Lauren; the realisation that not all clothes are pre-loved was something of a pivotal moment.

"I try to buy classic pieces and then I like to throw in the chain stores a bit as well," she says. "My latest kooky thing is quite embarrassing; it's an 80s-style long T-shirt with peacock feathers printed on it."

Kathy acknowledges she's in a rut with her own clothing and could probably do with some help from fashion mavens Trinny and Susannah.

"I'd like to be taken in and pushed and prodded and shoved around." She had her colours done in the early 90s and still carries the swatches - "lavender and paua colours like blues and teals" - around in her handbag for reference when shopping. "It still works," she says.

Lauren is not so sure. "I think colours' are a crock of shit," she says.

Jessica Blair and her mother, Helena Blair, are united by their inability to find a truly great pair of jeans.

The Mission Bay women freely admit to failure when it comes to sourcing this wardrobe essential. Perhaps it's in the genes. "I've given up on buying jeans. I just don't like the way I look in them," says Jessica, 22.

Helena hasn't thrown in the towel yet but her quest is just as fruitless.

"I buy jeans thinking they're the right ones and I get them home and find they're not," she says. Because they both make living out of creative endeavours - Helena is an artist; Jessica an interior designer - there's the sense they have developed a more critical eye than the average person.

Colour features strongly when they make their clothing choices. Helena, who paints richly coloured landscapes of New Zealand, Tuscany and Provence, is naturally drawn to vibrant printed fabrics in store. Yet she finds herself restraining this instinct when it comes to purchasing.

"As I've got older, I don't wear as much colour. Sometimes I feel safer in black, dark colours," says the 51-year-old.

And Jessica has noticed that her own work aesthetic has tended to almost subconsciously influence her clothes shopping.

"The style of interiors that I've started to like - really rich and eclectic rooms but also loving timber and colours that reflect the South Island palettes; these colours are actually showing up more in my wardrobe," she says. "I think all design is related - fashion and art and interiors. It's all in the same scope. They all just bounce off each other."

Helena, who shops only when she needs something and would never buy on a whim, is the sensible shopper of the family. A pair of lace-up Italian boots she purchased almost 10 years ago are still being well used and her last two handbags were gifts with makeup.

"I tend to wear my clothes a lot and not have many, and then give them away and get new ones. But I don't buy expensive clothes," she says.

Jessica, on the other hand, is spontaneous, often coming home with spur-of-the-moment purchases that have taken her fancy.

"It's so tempting ... to buy a going-out top rather than a practical one. I always go shopping to get something and then end up buying three things to go out in. Then I never wear them or I wear them once and then I'm like, damn it, I still have to buy just a black top for work'."

A "massive shop" she did recently cost between $800 and $900, spread over two days. Jessica, an avid consumer of fashion magazines who estimates she's watched The Devil Wears Prada 10 times, cheerfully admits she spends "probably more than everyone in the family combined" on clothes.

Recent acquisitions include bright blue snakeskin shoes, a crocheted vest (it was on sale but doesn't suit her), a pair of "just wicked" Overland boots and some "Supre fake jean things".

But it's Jessica's brown woollen poncho that is a subject of much good-natured mirth in the Blair household. Helena laughs when her daughter mentions it, then quickly apologises.

"It looks awesome," says Jessica, "but I've only worn it once. You have to be in the mood to wear it. You need a lot of energy to wear ponchos. You just have to be comfortable, be relaxed wearing it and not really care."