A sense of style

I've never figured out fashion. Someone once told me that she admired my sense of style - and I just stared at her. Sense of style? My sense of style consists of wearing what is clean and doesn't need ironing, and if I'm lucky, is appropriate for both the occasion and the weather.

I envy women who actually do have a sense of style - I see women about my age still wearing the flowing fashions of our youth - the flowing hair, flowing skirts, flowing sleeves, flowing earrings - and I feel a pang of loss. I gave up fashion for comfort and convenience long ago.

And there are women who dress so smartly - the linen suits, the heels, the accessories, the perfect haircut and make up. I can't figure out how to dress like that. At age 52 I still haven't figured out how to apply makeup or comb my hair properly. I can't walk in high hells (not a typo). And linen? Are you kidding? The first thing I'd do to linen is spill my coffee on it.

There are times I do get out of my tee shirts and blue jeans. I have days in which I crave being soft & feminine - my own style of feminity is a loose dress and bare feet - those are days I feel "like a natural woman". I cook and sweep and garden and speak sweetly to my family and pets. And days I claim my feminine power - black jeans and crisp blouse or black sweater, black boots and gold hoop earrings, just a swipe of lipstick, maybe some mascara. Somehow that combination makes me feel smart, no-nonsense, in control and sexy. Makes me want to go hop on my hog and ride like the wind to the courthouse and file some papers. I have no idea why, I don't own a motorcycle, I'm not a lawyer. I guess it's just the desire to feel confident and strong, qualities I rarely possess.

I used to think I had to settle on a certain style - either I had to be true to my counterculture youth, or I had to grow up and dress like a lady, or a mother, or a churchgoer. I once had a church lady say very firmly to me, "You have to wear better clothes to church." My response, a definite "uh, ummm, uh." I was concerned about fitting in, about what other people thought of me (the world as horrified mother: "Brenda! You're not wearing that, are you??!!"). Yeah, I know, I'm a late bloomer in self-realization : it's taken me this long to figure out I can wear what I want to. And if other people don't like it, well, that's too damn bad.