It’s taken me this long, but finally I love the skin I’m in

This is not the year to be telling anyone what to do. Particularly when it comes to going out and having fun. I SHALL go to the ball – and wear what the hell I like!

Age-appropriate Christmas fashion? What on earth is that? I’ll wear what I like, thank you very much. As I’ve got older, I’ve found that not only am I loving dressing up again… I’m much more confident in my own skin.

The December before lockdown, when hectic office life was still the norm, I rode the lift 24 floors up a tower in Canary Wharf with two young co-workers who were discussing their outfits for the forthcoming Christmas work bash.

It reminded me of the scramble – and excitement – of preparing for Christmas parties back in my 20s and 30s when having outfits delivered to one’s home or office was the sole preserve of the wealthy.

Age-appropriate Christmas fashion? What on earth is that?

One year, having returned from an assignment abroad on the morning of my company’s very posh Christmas party, I sprinted the length of Kensington High Street to buy not just a dress but shoes and a bag as well, because I didn’t have time to go home first.

I agonised between a vivid-green silk Jigsaw dress and an electric blue Karen Millen trouser suit (I went with the Jigsaw dress) in the precious half-hour I had for lunch.

I can’t remember much about the evening itself, but I do recall someone complimenting me on the dress in the ladies’ loos and feeling ridiculously elated. Because it mattered so much to me then what I wore. In the carefree days before partners and children, where you went out, with whom you partied, and what you wore were all vitally important.

Changing lives

Enter my 40s, a time of domesticity and country house living outside London. And for the first time party outfit choices – indeed social engagements full-stop – changed unrecognisably.

It was the era of weekend dinner parties; some of them themed to force you to dress up. But mainly they were casual affairs, held because we all had small kids and it was the only way you got to let your hair down with mates.

Now I feel like life has come nearly full circle. While I still have childcare responsibilities, they are fewer. Which means that I have been able – along with the rest of the population – to experience again the excitement of the corporate do, the cocktail party and, yes, the good old Christmas bash.

Changing rooms

But where has my wardrobe gone in those intervening decades? I’d like to say that I kept some key vintage pieces from the 80s, 90s and noughties, but sadly I haven’t.

In fact, my sartorial shedding, after three years WFH and owning chickens, has been so drastic that I am practically starting again.

I’ve always had a love of flamboyant clothes but never dared to wear them. I love diamante jewellery and have some beautiful pieces left to me by my grandmother. And do you know what? For the first time in years, I wore the earrings and bracelet the other evening.

While I used to care so much what other people thought of my outfits and always dialled it down instead of up, now I no longer care.

Which is not of course the same as saying I don’t care what I look like; I do, passionately. But if I see a bright pink sequinned dress nowadays – and it suits me – I’ll buy it and wear it. I don’t care if other people think it’s inappropriate.

I used to care so much what other people thought of my outfits and always dialled it down instead of up, now I no longer care

The other important change that comes with age is acceptance – and even appreciation of – your looks. Physical shortcomings, as I saw them – horrible legs and a big nose to name but a few – were an obsession. Now I wonder what the hell all the fuss was about. I lived decades of my life never wearing shorts or skirts and dresses above the knee. But actually now I think my legs aren’t THAT bad and with a tan or the right tights and boots, they’re ok.

Embracing change

This means that at the grand old age of 55, I am experimenting with looks I’d never have dared to wear in my 20s, 30s and 40s – and I think that’s pretty cool!

I now wear my hair really short – it’s even shaved at the back – something again which I never did when I was younger. My resolve to go even shorter was strengthened by a hairdresser in Dorset telling me six years ago that I would be better off with a bob because ultra-short hair is “too severe and very ageing”.

I have finally become like the women I was always jealous of because they didn’t give a toss. The Trinny Woodalls of this world. Only the other day she went bra-less under a chain mail dress (albeit with a long black coat on top) at the Ralph Lauren and The Royal Marsden Cancer Charity Holiday event. Good for her! She looked fabulous and sexy.

The reason we celebrate these women is that they are comfortable in their own skin

And I think this is where the problem arises – society doesn’t like older women looking or acting sexy, it makes others, especially the young, feel uncomfortable.

Yet there are some mature style icons even Gen Z salute: Michelle Obama, Jennifer Anniston, Beyonce, Helen Mirren, Cate Blanchett. The list goes on.

The reason we celebrate these women is that they are comfortable in their own skin. They exude style and are proof that as long as you don’t attempt to carry off ultra-fashion trends which are always best left to their target audience of 19 year olds, you can dress outrageously, appropriately.

So this year, to celebrate a completely covid-free Christmas, my mantra is that I shall go to the ball, and wear whatever I want.

Stop judging women on their grey hair. It’s nobody else’s business