A few weeks ago, the kids and I were walking through New York City when we passed a store with a sign that said “Diane von Furstenberg.”

The kids were doing that thing where they just read all the signs, usually name brands they’re familiar with, but that one stumped them.

But, even more shocking to them was when I launched into an explanation of who she was and how her “iconic wrap dress” took the world by storm and is still considered a staple in women’s fashion.

I may as well have grown nine heads. In a family that cherishes random, useless knowledge, I had taken things to a new level. It turns out that my kids were not aware that I’ve had a closet (pun intended) obsession with fashion for as long as I can remember. Well, actually, I can remember exactly when it started, and Princess Diana’s wedding dress was that defining moment.

People magazine and whatever other semi-trashy magazines the school library had got me through most of my high school years, but once I was in college, I became a full-time devotee of Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar and Vanity Fair. I combed best dressed lists, waited eagerly for the Oscar Red Carpet walks, and learned to spot Versaces, Balenciagas and Oscar De La Rentas.

So, I came clean and confessed my high fashion obsession to my kids, who added it to the list of one more weird thing that they will never understand about their mother. But, during the conversation, I mentioned the words “guilty pleasure.” A few weeks later, E circled back around to the phrase. She wanted to know why I would feel guilty about something that made me happy.

I tried explaining that the time I spent reading fashion magazines would have been much more productively spent doing homework or reading quality books that would have enhanced my learning. Additionally, there was no way I would ever be able to afford any of that clothing, so it was kind of a waste of time to spend so much time learning about it.

Finally, it’s not like I’m even a fashion risk taker or try to incorporate any elements of style into my wardrobe, and I never have. I’m all about comfortable clothing that is as simple as can be. Give me jeans and comfortable sweaters in the wintertime and shirts in the summertime. Since I’m in the pool so much of the time, comfy clothes that come off in layers are what I wear the rest of the time.

So, my interest in fashion was really, at the end of the day, a waste of time and energy, other than that I enjoyed reading about it and looking at the pictures. E thought this was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard. “If it made you happy, you shouldn’t have felt guilty about it,” she insisted. “Or, if you’re going to feel badly about it, then maybe you just shouldn’t do it. What’s the point of doing something that makes you happy and makes you feel badly at the same time?”

Well, when she put it like that, I had to concede that maybe she had a point. Since Steve died, I’ve tried to do a lot more of the things that we’d put off for some day. In some cases, it was the small things, like the special bar of soap that I’d purchased on vacation, or the expensive candle that sat on the shelf, both of them waiting for “some special day.”

I used the soap and burned the candles. Steve had been mulling over a tractor purchase for years, partly waiting until he could easily afford it, and partly trying to find just the right tractor. I bought the tractor. It has been a game changer for doing work around the farm, rapidly reducing the amount of time some chores take, giving me more free time or the time to devote to other tasks.

This has become my new form of guilty pleasure: the things that Steve always talked about, but never had the chance to do. It’s not always fun things. Some of the time, it is finishing a project that I know was important to him. Sometimes it’s when Duncan comes and puts his head on my lap and hangs out with me, something it took him a long time to do with me. All the time, it’s seeing the kids grow up and accomplish things that we’d hoped and dreamed for them.

I try very hard to enjoy these things for what they are and know that he would be pleased to see them being done, but I always feel terribly sad and guilty that he is not here to enjoy them.

These “guilty pleasures” put those of my past to shame. I know E is right. I should be letting go of the guilt and feeling badly, but this isn’t just a magazine that I can toss in the recycling bin and move on. This isn’t an hour or so of time that could be better directed toward more industrious pursuits. It seems now that most of life has become a guilty pleasure.

For now, E and I have made a pact that we will try to remove the guilt from some of our pleasures. We spent part of a recent snow day doing face masks and jigsaw puzzles. Sure, the house could have been cleaned and homework could have been worked on, and we did get to those chores eventually, so we absolutely needed to feel no guilt about our self-care time.

Now that I have E to hold me accountable, maybe I will finally start to let go of some of the guilt, and focus on the fun.

Liz Pinkey’s column appears on Saturdays in the Times News