Dress Your Age... What Age Am I Anyway?

I am growing... actually I have been all my life, that is what humans do best. They grow up, they grow tall, they grow out of their clothes, they grow into something, awesome, fine, beautiful, charming or balanced (like breakfast cereals!) and then they grow old... I have no control over that. There is one thing I can control, what age I feel! I feel seven with my seven year old, I feel sixteen when I am dressing up, I feel twenty when I am reading a junk fiction, I feel twenty five when I am cooking, I feel thirty when I am working, I feel thirty five when I read 'chik lit', I feel forty when I read Thomas Piketty, I feel fifty when I read J Krishnamurty and I feel ageless when I meditate. In spite of all the commotion in my mind about my own age, I find, women have an unspoken pact to dress age appropriate. What should I wear? Or should I keep changing as per mood?  

I cannot forget this one page write-up, at the back page of a reputed newspaper. This was about a fifty-five year old, medium overweight woman (I add that detail of 'over-weight', because that is what made me judgmental about her), in red and yellow coordinated micros and minis and low cut tops, with the highest of high heels, gorgeous make-up, fab hairstyle and the most happening fashion jewellery, all gold and diamond, because she could afford it. At fifty-five you can afford a lot, no kidding! I could almost smell her perfume. Her dress and her style did not all look appropriate to me, I must confess. To her merit, she knew how to carry the awesomely out of place cloths. She had a sex-appeal of a 35 year old. She knew exactly how to show off her legs and her attitude for a glossy photo. She was a fashionista! I don't remember her profession or other details. 

I was still in some mould, back then. Pleasing others was the single most important goal of my life, like many other women my age.  My immediate reaction... "If I cannot wear a micro and low cut tops even at 30, what with my slender tall figure, and the advantage of age and beauty on my side, how can this woman confidently show off her 55 year old body, so proudly and unabashedly? Oh she is a snob," I concluded, "she would not know what the world goes through... Would be blissfully unaware of famines and droughts and disasters the world over, and pandemic, and starvation and wars and Ethiopia and Somalia, because she is too busy putting on her make-up." I was judgmental to the core. As if, in my sleeved up jumpsuits, I was sitting tight and worrying myself sick about the world issues! Each one of us do our bit for those serious issues, but on a day-to-day basis, we have our breakfast, lunch and dinner in measured intervals and go to bed daily to get enough sleep. 

What struck me about the article though, was why should a reputed newspaper choose such an obscure topic to write on? Why do I have to visit the personal wardrobe of a fifty five year old woman and appreciate the scarves and the jewelleries and the clothes and the socks and the shoes and get acquainted with her personal fashion designer? And now I understand... this article was about feeling young inside, as your body ages from the outside, inevitably. Women keep forgetting to do that. At 30 we are still young and we don't really know how it is to be older. How it is to see the first strand of white hair on our head and realise, that the earth will not stop revolving around the sun anytime soon, but our body... oh, it will be ashes one day. Why start 'courting the ashes' before we get there? Why dress to impress others, when we have the liberty to impress ourselves and love ourselves every living moment? Why fall in a mould - Unless we are a fine cake batter? Let others get jealous of us for our spunk, let us be free to choose what we wear, whatever it is. No one will shed too many tears over our ashes when we get there, we will not want them to. No one will reward us for being old ladies, when we have the choice of being young, energetic, charismatic, charming, spontaneous individuals till... ashes ashes we all fall down! 

Why deny ourselves the sartorial pleasure. The ever changing fashion: Chiffon, georgette, silk cotton, jute. Short dresses, minis, micros tights, culottes, palazzo, shorts, sarees, kurtis, jumpers, jumpsuits in red, blue black orange purple or mango yellow, floral or striped or fringes, frills and furs. Low-cut tops, spaghetti, bustier, off shoulder, sleeveless, turtle neck. Red, blue, orange, purple lipsticks with glitter or matte. Green, orange, blue, brown, translucent nail polishes. High heels, low heels, medium heels, boots, pumps, belles.  Jewelleries in pearls, diamond, gold, silver, white metal, terracotta or some junk. Eye shadow, mascara, concealer, eye liner, glitters and polishes. And of-course the perfumes... No one told me I can't buy or wear something that is on sale! Once in a while, if I find I am dressed all wrong, would I stop loving myself? Oh no... On the contrary, I must believe I am beautiful and the world loves and adores me. No one else but I need to believe that!

What we cloth in, decides our age too. Because it’s not the real age, it’s what everyone thinks we are, that is truly our real age. Our body does not have a pact with the SUN! No one dictates its aging process besides us ourselves. If our "body year" is longer than 365 days, so be it, this is not hiding age! This is assessing the right age as per our body's calibre. This is called asset revaluation in commerce! Never go by the calendars. In fact let’s add a few months in our own personal calendars, to make the years longer and more fun. A 600 day calendar is what I would like to see, when counting number of years of my life! One day, no matter what calendar we follow we will be ashes... that is true. But before that, we are all blood and veins and breath and vanity, the world makes no exception for numbers. We are all struggling for the same trophy... Radiant Survival!