Last year, shortly after my 50th birthday and just growing out a shaved head from a multi-colored mohawk, I came across an article titled What Not to Wear After 50. I was pretty certain that my closet – and my entire style, really, piercings and all – were probably on that list, and sure enough – as well as surprising AF – the first thing listed was Chuck Taylor’s. HUH?
Was a time when my closet was filled with towering heels (almost all black), and a selection of diverse boots (almost all black), and the only sneaker-like shoes I owned were Nikes, which I decidedly wore for anything other than work or working out. The last five plus years, however, have seen me happily dressing the part for my gig at Maxwells, and my closet very quickly loaded up with silly tee-shirts and comfortable non-slip tennies.
Now? I own probably thirty pieces of clothing in total – and you can bet 99% of those items were on that list of what a woman my age should clear out. But here’s what I have to say about the subject: Who fucking cares? And, more importantly, why??
A friend once posted that she couldn’t take it when adults wear their pajamas to the grocery store. Well, honey, if I’m out of coffee and I don’t want to get out of my PJs yet? Ima wear my fucking PJs to the store. Last night, in fact, just after I affixed gold patches under my eyes, I got a craving for ice cream. And, yep, I went to the store in my old gray sweats and fuzzy slippers, gold eye patches de-puffing as I went.
Hey, to each his own, my judgment is only because I actually am “that lady” who is in line in my pjs, it’s true. But as I age, I find I just don’t have room in my life to not be who I feel like being. I don’t care anymore. It’s more than not giving a shit about what others are seeing. And it’s more than being comfortable – either in my clothes or in my actions. It’s more like having a genuine ability to laugh at myself, and in turn allowing myself to be the butt of the joke for others.
Because if I just don’t care one way or the other? I may as well find something to laugh at – even if it’s myself.