Dressing Like a Grown-Up

When I shop for clothing, I first look for clothes I can wear to the office.
 
Date Night clothes are usually work clothes with a pair of cool shoes and a bit more mascara.
 
I buy fewer prints because I don’t want people to remember that I’ve had that same dress for three years.
 
Because I shop planning on wearing the same dress for three years.
 
Because I know three years is here in the blink of an eye.
 
I don’t wear a lot of pants because pants stretch out.
 They emphasize the softness, saginess, and lack of crunches that happens when you’re over 35.
And had a baby.
And like sleep more than gyms.
 
Back to pants… they need to be pressed.
And have shoes the right height.
And pants seem to collect dog hair faster than skirts.
 
I buy trends, but fewer of them because I know that flatform/wedge sneaker/clear neon purse/feather hair extension is going to be seen as tacky in less than six months.
 
Or I already did the Doc Marten/army jacket/neon/creepers/culottes trend the last go-round and just can’t imagine bringing those years back into my closet.
 
But then, I'll buy trends because I DO remember those years I wore them before and know I can rock them far more authentically than women 20 years my junior.
And I do.
 
My lingerie drawer is far less colorful and fun than it was a decade ago, but it’s the hardest working part of my wardrobe.
 
I realize I can’t carry off bedhead, yesterday’s makeup, oversized, skintight, or 5” heels any more.
The biggest part of the last sentence is the self-realization.
 
For every day I wear heels I have one wear I wear shoes below 1” in height.
 
I wash my face every night because I now see the results of not doing so.
 
I never buy anything if it will show a bra strap.
 
I love ponte, matte jersey, and merino because they’re stretchy but thick enough to hide lumps and bumps.
And they don’t have to go to the cleaners.
 
I have more disposable income but shop less often because I’ve learned that a “fun” closet is a surefire way to get back into debt.
 
And I’ve been there where my pretty closet is still full of pricetags come the end of a season.
I dress for me.
 
I make mistakes, and I own them.
 
I still have fun with fashion, but now I do it on my own terms.

 

I may be a grown-up with the kid, the semi-minivan, the mortgage and the wrinkles, but I still rock it.
In fact, I rock it better now than I did a 22.
 
You know what?  I love being a grown-up!

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