As I close in on fifty, I welcome it.
My style has evolved over the years and is as mercurial as my moods. Casual comfort, ease of wear and movement, and most of all, washability. I don’t buy things that are dry clean only, I pretty much spend my big bucks on good, solid shoes (no more Manolo Blahniks), and I don’t try to dress like a woman half my age. I dress like me. If I can’t curl up on the couch in it, it’s not likely making into my closet.
As a childfree newly-single “woman of a certain age” I laud Stacy London for her astute take on the “experienced woman” (wink, wink). As a fairly new widow, I don’t give a rat’s ass about what anyone may think about my thinking of myself this way, acting this way, being this way. No matter how long you’ve known me, how close you think we are, I will always surprise you.
Here’s to turning fifty on the second of May.
The Salty Widow 