Embracing the Freedom of Fashion in Midlife
As I approach my mid-40s, I find myself delightfully surprised, especially when it comes to my wardrobe. Picture a sweltering summer day in the Midwest, where I’ve chosen to wear a light cotton dress that feels as if it could cover a twin-sized bed. My wife quips, “Going full women’s studies professor today, are we?” I respond with an exaggerated look through my reading glasses and playfully ask, “Where have my clogs gone?” Of course, it’s far too warm for clogs.
The journey into midlife has unveiled a newfound sense of liberation. The stilettos and restrictive shapewear that once cluttered my closet are now distant memories. I’m living a reality richer than what I dared to dream. Growing up, my fashion sense was far from refined. Struggles with body image began in adolescence, leaving me awkward and out of place amidst peers. My upbringing in a family that eschewed mainstream trends contributed to my discomfort, as we prioritized thrift and necessity over brand name recognition.
Throughout middle school, the disconnect between my changing body and my classmates left me feeling exposed and vulnerable. Clothes became my armor, helping to conceal the parts of me I wasn’t comfortable with. Although my closet offered more choices, I clung to just a couple of beloved jeans, convinced they were my secret weapon against scrutiny.
The early ’90s ushered in a shift in beauty standards that I struggled to navigate. The rise of models like Kate Moss meant that my once-admired curves now seemed out of fashion. This turmoil fed an eating disorder that became a silent companion. Thankfully, my queer identity and feminist upbringing provided a lens to view my struggles, even if they didn’t fully alleviate the pain.
By my teens, I embraced a more rebellious style, fueled by inspirations like Ani DiFranco. As I cut my hair short, donned overalls, and explored thrift store finds, I gradually reclaimed my identity. Yet, the turbulence continued as I faced challenges with addiction, further complicating my relationship with my appearance.
In college, my wardrobe mirrored my emotional landscape, shifting drastically depending on my social circles. Each outfit was crafted to reflect a different facet of myself, resulting in a patchwork of styles that didn’t seem cohesive. However, the turning point came at 23, after I got clean and started to search for a consistent sense of self in my clothing.
Initially, my style was still a blend of the eclectic, oscillating between vintage flair and polished sophistication. I admired older women’s effortless grace and worried that I’d one day become a caricature of midlife drabness. It seemed that aging would come with a compulsive wardrobe overhaul, stripping away the vibrancy of youth in favor of something less exciting.
Meeting my wife at 36 introduced another dimension to my style evolution. While I still favored heels, I began to reconsider my choices, wondering if comfort had a rightful place in my wardrobe. Embracing solitude following a painful breakup allowed me to discover what I truly enjoyed. My closet gradually filled with staples that felt authentic to my identity—well-tailored garments and timeless pieces that celebrated my individuality.
Midlife has opened my eyes to the beauty of personal growth and transformation. Now at 43, I find liberation in dressing for myself, regardless of external expectations. My fashions are often dictated by my mood and comfort rather than an obligation to appear a certain way. The male gaze, which once weighed heavily on my mind, no longer holds sway—it’s the affirmations from my loved ones that matter most.
Looking back on my misconceptions about aging, I can’t help but chuckle. Instead of falling into a dull routine, midlife feels more vibrant and full of possibility than I ever anticipated. Rather than a decline, my wardrobe has blossomed, showcasing a blend of styles that honor all my past selves—freedom of choice has become the ultimate luxury.
As I embark on this exciting phase, I can’t wait to unravel what lies ahead. If this is what midlife looks like, I am eager to embrace the thrilling journey of growing older.