I was getting dressed this weekend to run my usual errands and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  It was the first time I actually said to myself “Am I too old to wear this”.  What was it, you ask.  Only the most awesome Rolling Stones concert t-shirt with cut off blue jean shorts.  Now before you run out and try to replicate this ensemble, I believe it is what one might refer to as “vintage”.  Most of the time I still make clothing decisions the same way I did when I was 5 and my inner fashion goddess started to come out.  Basically, if I liked it, I wore it.  I remember my mother saying to me as I would present myself in what was sure to be the next great look “But it doesn’t go together”…It was as if she was speaking a foreign language.  How can they not “go together”? I liked them both, therefore “going together” was based on my level of likability.

This brings me back to my problem at hand.  When do we start making wardrobe decisions based on age and not the twirl factor of our skirt?  It has been years since I worked in true corporate American wearing suits and heels.  I work at a company where there is no dress code and my main concern is how many times have I worn these jeans this week.  Had I gotten lazy?  I did hear a few of the women at work describe my style as “hippie” and wonder if that was a replacement word for “sloppy”.  Is tye-dye out?

In an effort to update my work clothes and appear more “adult-like” and less like Janis Joplin, I stopped by a few clothing stores.  Naturally I gravitated to the most inappropriate items like the sequined tank top.  I could make that work under a blazer, right?  I found myself following the 4 year old girl dressed in a tutu dress with glitter shoes.  Why don’t they have glitter shoes in my size?  I think glitter shoes could work on a forty-something if paired with a neutral pant. I was approached by the sales girl and yes, she was a girl.  Did I need help, she asked politely.  Oh honey, if you only knew, I thought.   I let her know I was looking for a few things for work.  She eyed suspiciously the ripped jeans I held in my hand.  I felt the judgment and put them back.

When the sales girl had me deposited in the dressing room with several “age appropriate” items, I began the ritual that every woman hates.  Trying on clothes in front of the mirror of doom.  Each item I put on made me feel like I was playing dress up in my mom’s closet.  I actually believe I had a reaction to a few because I immediately felt out of breath and I think a rash had started.  “boring, boring” was all I could think.  Should I ask the little girl where she got her tutu dress?  I think I could rock that with cowboy boots.  Focus Mina.

I emerged with two shirts I felt I could I could work with.  Maybe add some beaded necklaces?  I made it home that day and decided my style was just that “my style”.  As long as I don’t embarrass my child or have any type of fashion Macgyver moment, I was going to keep things as they were.  No more worrying over passing the threshold of age appropriateness.  After all, shouldn’t a woman’s self confidence be her best accessory?