As I approach my mid-40s, I find myself experiencing a refreshing sense of freedom, particularly when it comes to how I dress. On a scorching summer day in the Midwest, I slip into a light cotton dress that feels more like a twin bed sheet than a piece of clothing. My wife playfully notes, “Going full women’s studies professor today, are we?” I respond with a playful glare over my reading glasses, humorously asking, “Where are my clogs?” although it’s too hot for such footwear.
Cruising through this stage of life, I’m reveling in newfound liberties. The high-heeled shoes that once dominated my closet have been replaced, as have the constricting corsets and shapewear of my past. I’m living a life I never thought to envision, particularly with regard to my style. Looking back, I realized my younger self lacked taste, in part due to the body dysmorphia that shadowed me since my teenage years. Growing up with unconventional parents who rejected mainstream trends fostered a brand-ignorant attitude that defined my youth.
In my early years, I was awkward and felt out of place, especially during the tumultuous transition of puberty. My body changed drastically ahead of my peers, leading to an overwhelming sense of exposure as I navigated through school. Clothing turned into a means of camouflage, and despite having an expanding wardrobe, I relied on just two pairs of jeans throughout fifth grade, convinced they alone could hide my perceived flaws.
The early 1990s were a formative time for me. I studied the likes of supermodels while grappling with shifting beauty standards that later glorified an unhealthy aesthetic exemplified by figures like Kate Moss. This period marked the beginning of my struggles with an eating disorder. Thankfully, my identity as a queer individual raised by feminists provided me with a lens through which to critique the societal pressures I felt.
By my teenage years, I discovered a new sense of rebellion. I stopped shaving my body hair, embraced thrift shop finds, and adopted an androgynous style. My early adulthood was riddled with volatility; my fashion choices mirrored the highs and lows of my personal life, with each group of friends prompting a shift in how I presented myself. Clothing became a tool to conform to diverse identities, whether I was a student, a party-goer, or a struggling artist.
After overcoming addiction in my early twenties, I aimed for a more balanced style—occasionally channeling the high-fashion looks of the past while embracing moments of casual comfort. For a time, I feared the impending entry into middle age would necessitate a dull wardrobe of practical garments, stripped of the vibrancy of youth. Reaching my mid-thirties brought a significant shift. I chose celibacy and solitude for self-discovery, breaking free from the incessant need to appeal to others.
This newfound independence directly influenced my style. I started to relish the comfort of a well-fitted sack and the joy of a perfectly tailored shirt. I let go of the makeup and body modifications I once felt compelled to maintain. As I gradually confronted my internalized weight stigma, I embraced my physicality without disguise. In midlife, I’ve become comfortable in my skin, finding joy in dressing purely for myself and those close to me.
Now, I find my closet stocked with pieces that reflect a blend of my past selves and current preferences. I gravitate toward tailored designs and playfully oversized items, pairing them with comfortable shoes that allow me to move freely. I’ve learned to appreciate clothing not merely as a superficial layer but as an extension of my identity.
Midlife has become an unexpected canvas of possibility. The stereotypes I held about aging have evaporated, replaced by a liberating realization that this period can be dynamic and fulfilling. I have adopted a wardrobe that tells the story of my journey while offering me the chance to explore new facets of my identity. The prospect of growing older now feels like an exciting adventure rather than a monotonous decline. I can’t wait to see what the future holds, knowing that this only ignites my desire to continue evolving.