I wear what makes me smile
Puts a swing in my strut
As I get older, I realise I tend to be far more apologetic than I used to be. What on earth do I mean, you ask? Well, I often find myself guilty of being somewhat tremulous in the way I approach life and others, particularly those with whom I’m not so well acquainted. As though I’m apologising for existing, even.
I realise how at odds that sounds with the way I’m perceived. How I look. How I dress. I also realise how idiotic I am to even remotely feel that way and that it’s utterly unfounded. But then again, most concerns and fears veer on the side of irrational, and clearly, mine is no different.
So I sat me down and gave myself a pep talk.
I shall spare you the details but suffice to say, I emerged victorious. Ha. But I do want to spend a little time talking about those things which matter. Things which happen to all of us as we age, no matter how well preserved we appear to be. No matter how fabulous our genes are. I’m talking about when things no longer defy gravity. When rolling out of bed is actually more like slowly sitting up, stretching and shuffling to our feet. That moment when we recognise smile lines for what they really are, crow’s feet #shudder
Please, I’m not in the least bit downplaying those feelings and how they affect us. We all mourn the winkles, the sagging, the fatigue, the inability to recover quite as quickly as we used to. But, you know, there comes a time when we must consciously decide whether we intend to live nostalgically and sadly, or in the moment with joy.
F E A R L E S S
That’s the summarised conclusion of me vs me. Fearless. Not the sort of fearless which incites drawing sartorial inspiration from circus clowns and drag queens on a bad day out. No, not that. Fearless along the lines of living my life as fiercely and kickass-y as I possibly can. Fearless, footloose and fancy free.
At this juncture, some of you are probably thinking I’m being superficial and merely scratching the surface of the issue. Well, wait one moment. I’m fully aware that clothes, even as they aid in trimming a few extra inches and taking several years off, do not heal our wounds. But they most certainly do work wonders in boosting our ego.
Wearing what I like makes me HAPPY.
And when I feel happy, I feel strong, and confident, and empowered.
E M P O W E R E D
I feel amazing. I walk with a springy bounce in my step. A lilt in my gait. And my entire demeanour takes on a completely different persona.
And that’s why I choose to wear whatever the #@*% I feel like. Always. If it makes me happy, it’ll be a part of my wardrobe. No matter what others think. No matter if it’s perceived as being age inappropriate (pish posh). As I was telling Suzanne recently, the key here is to own it. Confidence makes for everything. Should you be a tad short on that, fake it until you make it.
WEAR IT. OWN IT.
MYOUR LIFELIVES IN FIERCE AUTHENTICITY
What do you do when you feel as though days are fleeting, time’s a-flying and, oh I don’t know, a wee bit more tired than usual?
p/s photos by Sofia Touassa
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