Personal Style for Women of a Certain Age

I have always had an interest in fashion.

Through the years, I have devoured fashion magazines and books about fashion and tried to replicate the outfits.

I think I must have gotten that from my mother.  She was always well-dressed.

 

Contrary to popular belief about women of a certain age, even though I am in my 60's and retired, that doesn't mean I am dead. I still have an interest in fashion and I like to look good.  So I am likewise still drawn to books about fashion, make-up, health, etc. But these days, there are few books and magazines that cater to, should I say, the more mature woman.

I recently came across a book called "The Elements of Personal Style" by Joe Zee and the Editors of Elle Magazine (Joe Zee is a stylist and was the resident fashionista on the short-lived Tyra Banks daytime show "Fab Life."). I liked the outfit on the cover.  It's the sort of retro chic I always went for. The book features 25 "modern" fashion icons (from 2010) who strive to tell us women "how to dress, shop, and live."

For example, Lea Michele (remember her from "Glee?") says "I try to stay away from super tight dresses, but I love something low-cut, and, of course, it's always got to be short!"  Why, of course, Lea.  Thank you.  I don't know what I would do without my low-cut short dresses. NOT! We women of a certain age have already been through the low-cut, super short and even super tight phase, but now we are more likely in the cover me up, pull it down and let it out phase.

And that's what I am ranting about today.

We women of a certain age may be old, we may be retired, we may be, heaven forbid, a bit on the chubby side, but that doesn't mean we are no longer interested in fashion.  But we can't really relate to fashion advice from a much younger woman and most of the fashion books and magazines cater to that demographic.  Almost all of the women giving advice in this book are under 40, except for Diane Von Furstenberg, Anjelica Huston and Charlotte Rampling.  Yes, they are mature, but they are also skinny bitches (and I use the "B word" in the nicest possible way), which some of us more ample women can't relate to.  But I give the book props for including some older gals, even if they are not only skinny bitches but rich bitches, too (again, I say that in the nicest possible way). But I am more Dita Von Teese (she's in there, too) than Diane, Anjelica or Charlotte.  It's because of her love of retro and vintage clothes, not the stripper thing.  But who knows?  Could be a new retirement gig for me.  There is something for everyone out in that crazy world of ours!

Anyway, I digress. 

One of my most popular blog posts is "Parisian Chic," where I review several fashion books about looking like a French woman.  French women are always held up as the epitome of chic, and for some reason, everyone wanted to write about how to look French in 2013. 

Anyway, re-reading that post reminded me that we women of a certain age not only get left out of many of the books and magazines about fashion, but when we are included, they are not so much about how we can maximize what we have, they are more about what we are NOT supposed to do, as in how NOT to look old, how to NOT get fat and what NOT to wear, as in skinny jeans.

For example, referring back to my "Parisian Chic" post, one book made the point that if you are over 26 (and since when is 26 the cut-off between young and old and fashion forward and fashion left behind?), you should not be wearing Converse sneakers or quilted jackets.  Another book, "Forever Chic," actually did address the older woman, but when she talked about using her Hermes scarf as a cumberbund, she lost me.  Number one, who of us can afford a Hermes scarf and since when do we women wear cumberbunds?

Over the years, as I have aged, I have been told to not wear leggings or skinny jeans, no berets, show no cleavage, no hippie items like tie dyed shirts or fringed jackets, no tattoos, not too much bling and nothing too trendy. And be sure to wear sensible shoes. Then there is the whole issue of size. Heaven forbid that you should be on the plump size. No big prints, no bright colors, no white skinny jeans. There is nothing for you but black bottoms and hip skimming tops and maybe some pearls.

So as I clutch my pearls, let me briefly address the issue of being fat.  We women are not just bombarded with how to dress so we don't look old, but we are also bombarded with books on how not to look fat and no matter what your age, if you are fat, you most likely also can't relate to most of the fashion books and magazines.

I know I could stand to lose a few pounds.  OK, I could stand to lose a lot of pounds, but it's all relative.  Yes, I am fat compared to Charlotte Rampling and I always was, even when I was a skinny-ish young thing 50 years ago.  That woman is S-K-I-N-N-Y!  But when I compare myself to Rebel Wilson, I am my own version of a skinny bitch, so I have given up trying to look like the women in the fashion magazines.  As long as I don't have to shop at Lane Bryant, I'm fine.  That's my bottom line (and believe me, I've been there).  When I lost a huge amount of weight ten years ago, it was one of the hardest things I have ever done and I've gained half of it back, so I have nothing but compassion for people who are overweight and struggling not to be.  No fat shaming here on myself or anyone else.

But being old is one thing.  Being fat is another thing. Put the two together and you might as well be invisible when it comes to fashion books and magazines.

So I am putting an end to all of that negativity toward us women of a certain age and certain weight.  It is no longer about what we can't or shouldn't wear, it's all about what we CAN!



Personal Style for a woman of a certain age?


I say that Personal Style is:  

 

Wear whatever the hell you want!

If you want to stuff yourself into leggings or skinny jeans, do it!

 

If you are over 50 and want to wear a beret, Viva La France!

 

If you want to wear big prints, go ahead!

 

 

 

If you want to show some skin, by all means!

 

 

Like bling? Bring it on!

If you want to wear bright colors, let your colors shine!

No tattoos?  Too late!

(And there are two more I don't dare show you!)



If you want to wear fringe, let your freak fringe fly!

Sensible shoes?  Hell, no! 

 

 

Ladies, we've paid our dues and we have the big butts and floppy arms to prove it.

Enjoy the time you have left! Wear whatever makes you happy!

Now I am going to try to put together that outfit on the cover of that book I talked about at the beginning of this post.  I wonder if I have any ankle socks!

 

 

Thanks for reading!

See you Friday

 

for my review of

 

"The Secret Life of Pets"


and 
 
The Week in Reviews

(What to See or Read and What to Avoid)

 
and the latest on

"My 1001 Movies I Must See Before  
 I Die Project."



 

 

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A Woman of a Certain Age Reflects on her Birthday

When you are a woman of a certain age, you can't help but do some reflection every time another birthday rolls around.  I just had one, so that's what I am going to do.  Reflect.

  

Growing up, birthdays were a big deal.

My Dad was always on hand with his ever present camera to record the events, and he wasn't above staging a moment or two. 

Though I have to say, he didn't have to stage this one. That expression on my little five-year-old face in this last picture, as I look at my current love, says it all.  I look like a little spider spinning my web!  I have plans for this kid. One learns early!

Four years later, here I am holding forth on my 9th birthday and clearly I have a new man next to me.

At ten, I have become more pensive among what look to be opium poppies in our back yard!

By 16, though, I have clearly had it with the posed birthday photo ops. You can tell by the expression on my face.  I look like I am saying, "OK, look!  Here's my new dress.  Can we be done now?"  My mother clearly has the posing down, though.
(By the way, my Dad bought me that outfit, hat, coat and all. As you can see, he was big on red, white and blue)!

  

However, I learned well from my Dad and carried on the tradition of birthday photos and continued making a big deal out of birthdays for my own children.

 

In fact, I instituted "Birthday Week." 

So what is Birthday Week? 

We didn't just celebrate the birth-day, we celebrated every day of the week leading up to the birth-day with a gift.  When the kids were at home, each day they would get a wrapped gift which would lead up to the big present on the actual birthday. Even when the kids were grown up and off to college, we still had Birthday Week. I would send them a big box with seven gifts, each individually wrapped, and they were supposed to open one each day.  Our son was five years older than our daughter, so he was probably 25 or 26 when I stopped doing it, and I would probably still be doing it, except for an incident involving our daughter. 

As I said, when the kids left home, we would still have Birthday Week. I would send them a big box with seven presents in it, and each present would say Day 1, Day 2, Day, 3, etc. and each present was supposed to be opened in sequence one day at a time.  I usually choreographed some rhyme or reason for the order, and there was an accompanying note or card explaining the gift.  When the kids were older the present on Day 7, their actual birthday, would usually be money. 

Our son was very good at this.  He would wait and open one present each day and let us know how he liked it.  However, one year, during our daughter's birthday week, I happened to be checking our bank account and noticed the check I had sent her, the Day 7 present which was supposed to be opened on her actual birthday, Day 7, had been cashed -- ON DAY 1 OF BIRTHDAY WEEK!  She didn't bother to open the present for Day 1, she went straight for the cash!  Needless to say, I got my nose bent out of shape big time for that and Birthday Week was canceled -- FOR BOTH KIDS - FOREVER!  Even though our son was already going on 27, he resented his sister for that for a long time.  

  

But that was then. 

Now we can make a big deal out of our grandchildren's birthdays too.  Not sure about Birthday Week, though!

When I was young, I couldn't wait for my birthday.  Time would just drag in between each one.

But now that I am - ahem - "a woman of a certain age" - a birthday doesn't  mean the same thing it meant when I was young, and time is no longer dragging in between each one.  It is speeding by.

And yet have you noticed that time also has a strange way of moving just slowly enough that each year that goes by, you don't notice that you are aging?  But each birthday that passes puts a new wrinkle on your face and another pound on your body until one day you have wrinkles, have put on 30 pounds and when you look in the mirror, you go "Yikes!"  What happened?  Or you look at photo albums and suddenly notice you don't look like you once did.

However, some of that was a choice some of us are forced to make.  As you have heard me say on this blog many times, like Catherine Deneuve, I chose to save my face and not my butt (she said you can't do both and she didn't use the word butt), so fortunately, though I have a big butt, I have few wrinkles on the old face.

But even with that, when I look at pictures, I have to ask myself:

How did I get from this

to this?

 

                                                             


When did that happen?

OK, that was rhetorical.  I know the answer.  I got old.  But when we are living our lives, running around like crazy, raising kids, working full-time, trying to have a life, we don't stop to notice...time passing. Inside, we think we are still that young person who graduated from school, said goodbye to her parents and went off to live her life.  And then it does. Time passes.

As I said, my Dad was a camera freak.  He documented every first day of school, every holiday, every event and, of course, every birthday, so I can look at those pictures now and remember a happy childhood.  I can also see how I have aged.

So, with that, it's easy to feel a little sorry for yourself on your birthday, especially if your children's cards didn't arrive or you don't get a phone call.  I could whine that no one ever gave me a Birthday Week.  I could get depressed over regrets. I could lament the wrinkles, the rolls of fat, the high cholesterol and that, as a woman of a certain age, I am virtually invisible.  And when I say invisible, I am not talking about no longer getting wolf calls as I walk down the street. I'm talking about the kind of invisible where I fall off the treadmill at the gym and nobody notices. That kind of invisible.

And speaking of regrets.  I don't trust people who say they have no regrets in their lives, because if everything that had happened to them hadn't happened, they wouldn't be where they are now. All that stuff.  Blah, blah, blah.  I don't buy it. If they weren't very nice to people, are estranged from their families, lived dissolute lives of drugs and selfishness or never did what they really wanted to do, then I think there should be some regrets in there, even if their lives are OK now. If you don't acknowledge regrets, then you will never change and grow.

Yes, I could say if I hadn't been married three times, I never would have met Hubby and had our daughter. But I certainly regret getting married too young and missing out on normal college stuff and the opportunity to live in Europe.  I regret letting my kids down from time to time and moving so far away from my family.  I regret signing up for the Columbia Record Club.  I could go on and on...but I won't.  Let's just say, I could get hung up on regrets as I get older and spend my birthdays feeling bad.

But I am not going to.

Birthdays still mean something to me, but what a birthday really means to me now that I am "of a certain age" is this. 

A birthday is a time to reflect, to look back on my life, to think of those regrets and if I can right them, then I should and will.  But it's also a time to be grateful that I am here for yet another year. I may not be the young girl I was (though she is still inside me when I am not looking in the mirror), or the thin-ish girl I was, but I'm grateful that I still enjoy life, that I can do 45 minutes on the elliptical and 20 laps on the track, that I can get into skinny jeans and don't care if I am supposed to wear them or not, that I have a loving husband and successful children and that a glass of wine always awaits.

And you know what?  A birthday is a day to celebrate ME!

I'M STILL HERE!

This last birthday, I had a wonderful day with Hubby.  I got to do whatever I wanted which included some trash TV and wine, an expensive dinner and wine, and Hubby finally bought me a diamond ring after 32 years of marriage.  Long story which, you know I will share some day, but not now.  The long-distance kids sent cards and a gift (well, one of them sent a gift), and they called me, so that was fine.  It was a lovely day and I was grateful.

I was grateful for yet another birthday which represents another year of life on this earth, and I had better appreciate it because the alternative is unacceptable!

So for every birthday from now on, like Rare Earth sang,  "I just want to celebrate another day of livin'!"

Thanks for Reading!
 
See you Friday

for my review of

 "Finding Dory"

and


 The Week in Reviews
(What to See or Read and What to Avoid)

 
and the latest on

"My 1001 Movies I Must See Before

 
 I Die Project."




 

If you enjoyed this post, feel free to click on the share buttons to share it on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and LinkedIn, email it to your friends and LIKE me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/rosythereviewer

How You Know You Are Not Just GETTING Old, You Are Already There!

 

 

I've written about "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly of Getting Old"  and I've listed "10 Signs You are Getting Old," and "The Good and Bad News About Aging."

But those posts were about GETTING old. 

How do you know when you have actually gotten there?

When you are really once and for all OLD?

Well, my peeps, I am here to tell you.

You know you are old when...

You still write checks, especially at the grocery store.
And I hate to tell you this.  No one writes checks anymore.  Only old folks.  And NO ONE likes waiting in line for you to write that check.  OLD!

You have a landline.
Practically everyone is using their cell phone for everything. Again, OLD!

You still do your taxes by hand on paper forms and mail them in.
But not before going to the library and giving the librarians a hard time about their now having all of the forms you need (The IRS doesn't even send libraries all of those forms anymore).  OLD!

And speaking of libraries, you think libraries are only about books. 
Or worse yet, you think libraries should only HAVE books, when libraries are providing a wealth of materials, Internet access and classes, not just for children and young people, but for the likes of old folks too! Materials and services that can change your life. If you didn't know or appreciate that, OLD!

Your ears have gotten really big.
I just saw Ringo Starr on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon and his ears were gy-normous!  OLD!

You still subscribe to a print newspaper. 
Remember those?  If you do, OLD!

When you text, you use your index finger to poke out the message. 
Oh?  Text?  Not sure what I am talking about?  OLD!

For you guys out there, when you go to take a pee, you pull down your fly and reach in and can't find your little soldier! 
Because you put your underpants on backwards!  OLD!

You don't know how to use the Internet and are proud of that because you think the Internet would try to steal your identity. 
Or worse yet, you don't use Facebook because you think it would steal your soul.  And you think that Tinder is all about booty calls. 
Well, you are right about Tinder...

You think a selfie is something people do in private behind closed doors. 

And for you ladies, you think it's OK to stop wearing make-up, to wear a stained sweat suit all day and ride the motorized cart at the supermarket even though you can walk perfectly well. 
You've given up on yourself and that's about as OLD as you can get.

But you know what?

I know I'm old.  And I am guilty of some of the above (except for the one about underpants - Hubby has to claim that one- and the one about giving up on myself)!

 

But big ears and putting your underpants on backwards notwithstanding,

what does it really mean to be OLD?

 



You may have lost your hair, have wrinkles, gained weight, feel rickety, but it's all good. 

"Old" is not a bad word.  It means you have made it this far. 

Think of the "crone," from the goddess standpoint, or the wizard for men.

Whether you think "old" is 55 or 85, the longer you live, the more you are becoming an old soul, and what you have gained is wisdom. You know some stuff.

You know what happiness is.
It's not success, it's not money, it's not accolades.
Happiness is a state you can create for yourself through gratitude. It's appreciating that what most people equate with happiness is overrated.
Happiness is that small still voice within that says...I am content.

You know that getting old is not just an age.  It's a state of mind that we have control over.
We may be old but we don't have to be or feel old.
 
It's being self-aware and knowing yourself.  No matter what state you are in, it's being glad you got this far.

And if you live to be OLD, you get to live to be a part of all of this:

 

 

 

 



 

And that's not just getting OLD, that's getting happy.

 

 

 

 

Thanks for Reading!

 

See you Friday

for my review of the new movie 

 

"While We're Young"

(apropos, right?)

 

and

 

The Week in Reviews

 

(What to See or Read and What to Avoid)

and the latest on

"My 1001 Movies I Must See Before

 I Die Project."

 

If you enjoyed this post, feel free to click on the share buttons to share it on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and LinkedIn, email it to your friends and LIKE me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/rosythereviewer