Wrapping up warm

It was the first properly cold morning of autumn in our part of southern France today. A see your breath in the air morning. Good job I'd organised the warm coats, mittens and hat for Clapperkin ahead of time then (well, almost - one mitten out of two isn't bad). Delivered Fashionista to high school just on time (extra technology class at 8am is exactly what she and I needed at 7.50 am on a Monday morning) and returned home, where Mr. Right was just finishing brushing Clapperkin's teeth and hair. So far, so good.
Clapperkin has beautiful long golden ringlets. She has big brown eyes with to-die-for lashes and has already decided she wants to marry her nine-year old cousin. She likes pink. And purple. And hairbands. So of course she didn't want to put on the dark blue coat with brown fake fur lining I naively held out to her. Actually, didn't want is a euphemism. So is declined, or refused or even said no firmly. She went ballistic! She writhed, she screamed, she flailed and then she decided she would never, ever wear her purple shoes with flowers on either. It took two consenting adults to get her into the damn coat and do the zip up. No luck with the shoes though.
So is it the feminine gene? Is it personality? Is it the fact that Clapperkin regularly watches her teenage sisters take hours deciding between this grey vest-top and that light black tee-shirt, this pair of spray-on jeans and those jeggings (no pink dresses and hairbands here)?
God only knows. All I know is that as well as being the first properly cold morning of autumn today, it was also the first day I drove Clapperkin the 600 yards to her school instead of walking. Why? Well you try walking 600 yards in purple tights and no shoes while screaming. Have a lovely morning at school, darling.