How do you feel about age appropriate clothing? I recently read an article decrying the notion. Indeed, the author said it was dead. The supporting evidence against having to worry about age appropriateness was a photo of a woman hitting 80 in perfectly-fitting denim jeans and jacket. She looked great: but of course she did. The professional photographer captured her beautifully—svelte, minimal bare skin, designer denim, and fabulous jewellery. Mmmmmm I wasn’t convinced.
You see, I remember confidently wearing mere slips of dresses; short-shorts and that crochet bikini in 1970. I don’t want to even begin to imagine myself in such clothing now. Then it occurs to me that it isn’t age itself but my body shape and skin condition that influences my choices. And that this has been a constant since teenage years. Even then, I had worked out that some styles suited me more than others. (Yep, I’m one of those shirts and pants people.) And when I found black at 16, I knew I had found my fashion basic.
So I try to choose clothes that don’t emphasise my flab and show too much of my sun-damaged skin—which brings me to the sleeve thing. Yes, sleeves are great, and even an extended shoulder does the trick. BUT it is hot in summer and, for me, coolness and comfort take precedence. Besides, sweat marks aren’t such a great look either. I’ll probably be wearing sleeveless tops around the Sunny Coast in my 80s. I do draw a line at low necklines, however. My chest was one of the first things to go; but if yours is holding up well, flaunt it!
Talking about cooI (well, not really but I need a segue), I think me and my 11 year old
grandson were kind
of cool, tucking into artfully presented food at The Push Bar in Sydney’s Rocks
area. He and I were having a three-day adventure together in Sydney, and it was
|The Push Bar, The Rocks|
We did the Roar and Snore overnight stay at Taronga Park Zoo. I highly recommend it as there is a big emphasis on conservation and animal welfare, plus how wonderful to wake up in a luxe tent and look out across Sydney Harbour to the Opera House and the bridge; then to join in with the feeding of animals before the crowds arrive.
|Roar and Snore, Taronga Park Zoo|
Later, I was delighted that he actually seemed to enjoy visiting the Museum of Contemporary Art Australia, and we spent hours at the Powerhouse Museum. What helped to make things go smoothly was that, like me, he is into books. Thus, waiting and down times were great opportunities for him to keep up with what was happening at The 65-storey tree house, the latest book in a wonderful series by Any Griffiths and Terry Denton; and I got around to reading On Writing by Stephen King who stressed that to write you need to read: it made me feel quite righteous topping up our book supply at the airport. We were running out of puff by the time we caught our flight home, but what a grand time we had together despite an age difference of more than fifty years.
Age matters, but it’s not the whole story.