My friend and I sent to a taping of Rachael Ray Show the other day. If you know anything about going to a live taping, you know that you need to get to the studio about two hours early and line up, because the tickets for these events are often over booked. So that gives you a lot of time standing on line chatting with your friends. And you pretty much cover every topic under the sun because you are standing in one place for two hours.
After you’ve complained about your spouse, listed out your child’s recent accomplishments and/or stupidity , and discussed the books you are reading you eventually get to the middle age elephant on the line – aging and appearance.
A few weeks ago I went to a birthday party that was held at a bar. I dressed in an outfit that I thought was good for the event and that I felt confident in. And basically, this is how you should feel when you walk out the door. A friend saw a picture of me and said that I looked stylish and sexy, which of course was my exact goal. But then I started to wonder- was I starting to push it?
So, while we were on line, I said this to my friend, who is in excellent shape and looks great for any age, and she simply shook her head and said “Yeah. I know. When do we actually look good for our age, and when do we start to look ridiculous.”
Now I am clearly saying that you should wear what you love and feel great in. Without a doubt how you feel in your skin matters.
I know I have judged (shame on me) women I have seen shopping for themselves at Forever 21. I’m not talking basic t shirts and jeans either. I’m talking the trendy outfits seen on influencer blogs. I look at them and think “You would look so much better in something a little more…a little less…”. And I feel horrible about this as I’m thinking it- but it doesn’t stop me from thinking it.
Does what’s stylish and sexy change as we age? I’m all for remaining stylish and sexy, but does the definition take on a new meaning as we get older?
My family went to brunch a few weeks ago (FYI- brunch is very big in NYC) I spent an hour getting dressed, and I thought I looked nice. Fine. My daughter threw on sweats, a half shirt, wrapped a flannel around her waist and threw her hair a la Arianna Grande. Not a stitch of make up unless you count Burt’s Bee lip balm as make up. And she looked FINE. Notice the different emphasis on the word. There is a vitality in youth (that we don’t recognize while we’re in it) that just makes you look alive. I need blush and undereye cream to even look awake… If I wore the same outfit as my daughter, Police would probably be asking me if I needed directions to the shelter…
I thought back to the outfit I wore to the party: Did my black faux leather patched leggings, velvet t shirt and knee length vest look stylish, or was there a better way to go? Was my arm full of leather wrap bracelets cool and sexy, or did it look like I was trying to hard?
I think my goal is to think I look good if I love what I’m wearing. Because for much of my life, that’s how it went. I like something, try it on, if it flatters me I wear it. Feel good about self, rinse, repeat.
I’m not so sure anymore.
Do I really look ridiculous?
Does it matter if I look ridiculous if I’m happy?
And I’m beginning to think we should all wear uniforms…