|This is NOT a Fashion Post: Bella Heart-to-Hearts about Feeling Over Forty|
Let's talk, friends. Not about BEING over forty years old. About FEELING over forty years old.
I AM feeling it- and I'm going to be blunt with you- sometimes it doesn't feel so good. Or empowering, or the awesome-est. Sometimes, on some days it feels shitty. My body aches, and my joints hurt, and I can visibly see signs of aging: sagging skin, baggy eyes, age spots, grey hairs, and the ever constant thickening middle. I'm no Madonna, Demi Moore or Helen Mirren. Nobody is saying wowzahs at my bathing suit pictures, well, at least in polite company.
That said, I've got a good point to make in all this gripe talk. So bear with me a bit. I am of that certain age, where one doesn't have the shine or glamor of one's youth- I am banged up, dented and my history shows its marks. My age shows. Perhaps I should distract myself, and you by showing you all the new things I bought, my newest boots, or purse, or coat. But under the new bags, or boot, are the same tell-tale signs of grey hairs, crow's feet and other signs of gravity that betray my membership into the +40 club.
But here's the good thing: regardless of my age or my looks, I am still ME. The me who likes stripes and plaids and polka dots, who loves the pairing of brown boots with a grey dress, who prefers odd accessories and quirky styles. Who cuts her own hair, in spite of the fact that she's been saying that she's growing it out, FOR OVER TEN YEARS NOW, and has recently hacked it to its near last breath. The "I" who rocked her all black micro mini/crop top with docs (and big pull-back hair and Sade red lipstick) in the eighties is still alive and well, but thankfully has grown a sense of modesty. My crooked smile, my now chubby cheeked grin still expresses "me." And while I struggle with the hardball fact of aging, I still want to celebrate me in all my decades, all my phases.
So I'm not going to pretend my outfits worn are ones like those worn by fashion plates, or that I could double as a model off-duty. Nobody does a double take at me or my outfits when I enter a room. No big brand is a calling for me to collab with their next blogger/brand campaign. I would even venture to say, that me, and this blog are nowhere near "fashion relevant." Maybe it is at this point where I could stop taking pictures of myself and stop posting online.
But I'm not going to stop. Because all of me, the ageless self, and the ageing body both agree: Style is eternal- and you don't need to be a born beauty to celebrate it. What you do need is the urge to express, and to dress accordingly. So I celebrate my chubby little face, full of its inevitable age spots and full jaw line, I'm going to celebrate the wrinkly hands, the thickening ankles and the double hourglass.
I want to share with you MY style, not that my style is particularly note worthy, but by doing so, I'd like to give you permission to share YOUR style. With yourself. With me. With your friends, your family, your community. You don't need a blog, you just need to dress how you'd like, and share it by going out, with your favorite purse, your loveliest shoes, and your best dress. Whatever you like. Just how you like it.
Just have fun. And be yourself. At whatever your age.
|The sum is greater than its parts: 80% Thrifted. 100% Rosebud|
- vintage 60s cardigan, gifted
- the Carolyn c/o Karina Dresses
- vintage leather/brass belt, thrifted
- thrifted rings
- tights, similar HERE
- brown leather boots, thrifted
Linking to the fabulous Patti for Visible Monday