Picked up a few things at Ulta

But I'm still old

The other day I read an “Ask Vanessa” column in the NYT asking, “What does it mean to ‘dress your age?’” It “means making your own decisions about what makes you feel good…Which is, really, the ultimate grown-up way to dress,” Vanessa replied. Well, okay. Not much to see here, except…

A nugget of something. I don’t have time to write a dissertation right now but let me just say that I do want to age gracefully, slow down naturally, turn gray eventually. To wear what makes me feel good. Not be 20-year-old cute, but 50-year-old cute. But goddamn that’s hard. Everywhere I turn I’m reminded that a thicker waist, a saggier neck, and wrinkly hands are Not Cute. In addition, in order to “age gracefully” I probably ought to look like I stepped out of J. Jill with some linen safari pants, a blousy pastel button-down and perhaps a shell necklace adorning my smooth, tanned neck or sexy collarbone. At 5’3” I’d have to be creative with my pant length and tuck-in choices to pull this off, but at least I know that’s not my style, not every day, anyway. Maybe one day in late July.

Sometimes the look we strive for is not the look we achieve. After a long day of air travel recently, my sister texted me and said she’d clocked her own look. “Not the one I want, the one I have: annoyed school bus driver. Lanyard with phone. Hair in all directions needing a dye and cut, kinda gross, def tired, trying to be cheerful. Aka warmed shit.”

Leggings n skirt w boots. All winter.

Joan and I exchange commentary on this topic regularly. One day last week she remarked that she’d picked up a few things at Ulta, “but I’m still old.” I knew exactly what she meant. In our own heads we are still youthful, 20s or 30s, only recently having found one single gray hair and perhaps a wrinkle along the brow. Walk through Ulta and all the images depict that young woman, until you accidentally pass a mirror and realize one of these things is not like the others. So, here we are, back wondering what to do with our 50-year-old selves, in terms of makeup and clothing and hair and all of it.

But where I live, in the frozen north and surrounded by trails begging to be hiked or snowshoed, whatever I wear has to be compatible with Sorels or water sandals. That’s essentially the starting point for every outfit. I’m not out here lounging on the shore in my gauzy cover-up or tramping across DC in heels.¹ In fact I just donated my entire business wardrobe, about five full suits, some random slacks and an additional three or four blazers, as well as several pairs of leather pumps.² But dear Henry, what shall I do about the hole in the bucket?³ I still need to pin down “what makes me feel good.”

Perhaps I’m overthinking it and simply need to review my favorite items from the closet. I own a fleece skirt, a quilted skirt, and many ponte skirts,⁴ all about knee-length; many dresses, some specifically for hiking and others for wearing with necklaces, and a basket of leggings.⁵ Snap-front shirts and base layers. Practical, comfortable snow boots that aren’t clunky and look smart with a skirt-and-leggings getup. I’m down for that look even at 6º.

I’ve decided I’m a hat person.

So my aesthetic could probably be described as “mature outdoorsy Missoula woman.” Many older women here pull this off. It translates to age: middle; activities: hiking, boating, skiing⁶; politics: liberal. Brand-wise it means practical and well-made: Columbia, REI, and maybe Eddie Bauer since I have a Costco membership.⁷ This woman’s adventure kit is versatile and fun. She can mix and match her knit hats-n-scarves, hike with her car keys zipped into a pocket, and remove the microspikes from her boots when it’s time to grab a drink downtown.⁸ I guess it’s the “I wear attractive, comfortable clothes which are neither sweats nor suits nor found in the juniors’ section” aesthetic. Also, I’ve decided I’m a hat person.

Vanessa, your advice was pretty boring. Yet I haven’t stopped thinking about it. In fact, I picked up a cute fleece pullover and denim skirt at the Goodwill the other day after dropping off that pile of business formal, and rocked those with leggings, a scarf, and snow boots. That outfit made me feel good. Maybe “feeling good” is my aesthetic! I’ll take it.

1. Factually no women wear heels on the streets of DC. They change into their sneakers at 5:01 and walk out the office door in practical comfort.

2. The only suit still hanging in my closet, too small, is the one I wore to the White House. Like my doctoral robe, I imagine I’ll never wear it again but do not wish to part with it.

3. If you don’t know this song reference, erase that line from your memory. If you do, sorry about the earworm.

4. My mom sews these for me. I have MANY of them. Thank you, Mom!

5. and one J. Jill outfit.

6. though I haven’t been skiing in like 4 years

7. Those lined snowpants are the bomb, amirite ladies?

8. which I’d rather do at the Union Club than anywhere else, for the record