Is it really time I dressed my age?

Uh-oh. Is it really time to move to a different set of shops?

I’ve always considered myself a bit of a fashionista.

Like, I keep up with the trends. I’m cool. I’m funky. I know where to find the clothes that look right on me. You won’t find any daggy kits in this funky mumma’s cupboard, you feelin’ me?

Because I spend most of my time hanging with my homies taking care of the kids, I don’t get to hit the shops as much as I would like. Read: I never get a chance to shop any more because the kids would go total cray and I’d come home empty-handed and frustrated.

Last weekend though, I used my birthday as an excuse to hit the shops solo with the intention to make up for lost time and spend up big.

As per usual, I headed straight to my favourite department store. I’ve been shopping in Miss Shop since I was about 15. I can always find something that looks great on me there.

As I scoured the racks last weekend though, I couldn’t really find anything I liked.

A sales assistant noticing my disappointment, sauntered over to help. I told her I was looking for a new black skirt for work.

Initially eager to please, she suggested skirt after skirt to me.

“Too short for my long legs,” I apologised.

"I’ve been shopping in this shop since I was about 15. I can always find something that looks great on me there."

"Too frilly, too flimsy, too .." I continued much to her frustration.

"What about this one?" she asked as she held up a ghastly stretchy material skirt that would undoubtedly make me look like I had a bigger butt than Kim Kardashian.

"No, sorry!" I said yet again.

And that is when it happened. Our cheerful banter turned sour.

"Perhaps you’d be better off shopping in [insert name of "mature" shop here]," she declared.

I gave her a confused look as she continued.

"This shop is a little young for people in your age group."

"That place is for people your age," she reinforced happily before bouncing off to assist some 12-year-olds.

"No way!" I screeched internally as I scampered off with my tail between my legs.

I shop at that place for my mum. How can I not be cool and young enough for "This Shop" any more?


I’m still cool. I’m funky. I’m hip to the … screw it, I don’t even know what words to use to say I’m cool any more.

Turning 37 the next day, that little step closer to 40, wasn’t an issue for me until that little tramp lovely sales assistant made me feel old.

"You’re not 15 anymore!" I scolded myself.

"You’re not 25. Christ, you’re not even 35 – woman, get a grip!"

I’ve probably been walking around in my tropical print harem pants looking like mutton dressed as lamb!

As I took my fury out on the clothes racks at at the "old lady" shop, which had some very nice stuff by the way, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a mirror. My hair was wild and un-straightened. Not wild in a sultry, I just stepped off the beach and now have sexy, snakey curls kind of way, it was an I couldn’t be stuffed straightening my hair, the kids were going off the hook and I had to make a run for it, kind of way.

I’m not that funky little chicka cutting rugs on the dance floor singing, ‘I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly’ any more. I’m a mumma wearing leggings and oversized jumpers as I entertain the kids singing "The snow glows white on the mountain tonight, not a footprint to be seen".

I’m glad that sales assistant gave me a talking to. I needed it. Ever since I hit the mid 30I’ve been feeling a little out of sorts fashion wise. I’m too old for that shop, clearly, yet too young for some of the others out there. Plus, my body shape has completely changed. What once looked good on me now looks awful.

After a serious 3.5 hour shopping spree, I am stoked to say I have found a whole heap of new shops that I love and which suit me better in my lifestyle right now.

With these big guns behind me, I am feeling confident again and happy in the fact that I’m dressing my age. (I’m keeping the tropical print harem pants though…)

This post was originally published here and is republished with full permission.

Do think we really do have to change our style as we get older and our lives changed?

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