Mom hates glasses that are too thick.
Glasses that are too round.
Mom hates hair in your face, including bangs that are too long, hair that is too long, and long hair that is not pulled back.
Tops that are baggy, lumpy, or otherwise shapeless.
Tops that are too tight, creating new lumps and heretofore unseen shapes.
Mom hates a midriff, so crop tops or tankinis worn far away from a beach are out. (Mom loves a tankini at the beach, though.)
Mom hates mandals, but not wedge flip-flops, curiously.
Mom hates ripped denim, specifically jorts with frayed edges. Mom says, "I want to cut those strings off, but I know it's 'cool.'" You know that "cool" is in quotes in mom's head.
Mom hates any whisper of the possibility of cleavage.
Combat boots and other "masculine" footwear (See: mandals.)
Nail polish that's not on the red spectrum. Blue is the worst.
Mom hates white before Labor Day and exposed bra straps on any day.
Silver and gold jewelry mixed. Pick one. Seriously, just pick one.
Nose rings, especially a septum piercing.
Arms not covered by a pashmina when it's under 72 degrees out.
Mom hates all black everything, but mom loves "a pop of color."
Mom hates anytime you don't look like you did in a childhood photo, when she dressed you and you looked so darling. Mom hates that you had to grow up.
Mom wants you to call her. Right now.