Observations on Dressing South of Sixty

South of Sixty is a strange place for me to be.  Sixty-four!  How did that happen? 

On reflection, there are advantages to being South of Sixty.  I’m old enough to be eccentric.  I’ve probably been eccentric since birth.  I’ve finally grown into who I’ve always been.

I no longer am that concerned about what people think of me.  I’m just me and that’s OK.  I no longer have to obsess that I have matchy, matchy outfits with all the right accessories.  It’s OK to choose to just wear big, flashy earrings in lieu of any other jewelry.

Jewelry always bothered me.  Necklaces were too long or too short, too light or too heavy.  They slipped into strange positions.  I was always adjusting a necklace.  I had an epiphany.  Necklaces’ weren’t a requirement of life!

Bracelets were pretty.  I wore lots of bangles on my arms.  I liked the flashy kind.  But a bracelet also began to bother me.  It touched my wrist.  My wrist had begun to hurt. Another epiphany!

Rings.  Oh, I love rings.  Only on my fingers.  Only on my ring finger and little finger.  I had all kinds of rings.  They were all flashy also.  I still wear some of my rings on special occasions.  My fingers have begun to hurt.  Epiphany number three!

I was part of the first year of baby boomers – 1946.  My childhood was the heart of the ‘50’s.  I still miss putting on a hat and gloves for church.  Don’t know why because I pulled the gloves off as soon as I walked through the church doors.  Being as my father was the pastor, it didn’t take long to get from the parsonage to the church.  Pull gloves on in my bedroom.  Ninety seconds later, pull them off in the foyer of the church.  A proper, prim, young lady. 

Hats always gave me headaches.  Thankfully, the hats had to go when big hair became popular.  A beehive was in and of itself a “hat”.  Epithany.  A real hat looked really funny perched on top of the beehive. 

The gloves were the last to go.  I kinda liked carrying them in one hand in southern lady type fashion. 

Did I mention hosiery?  Oh, what joy when I was old enough for my first “hose” and heels.  I never liked “hose” from the beginning.  I had to have something to hold them up.  Choices were a garter belt or girdle.  There I was.  Thirteen years old and wearing a girdle with those weird hooks that held the hose up.  Girdles gave me gas.  Garter belts seemed too risqué for a preacher’s kid.

Oh, joy again!  Pantyhose were invented in the ‘60’s!  No more girdles.  No more gas.  Did you ever try to pull a girdle on while in an un-air conditioned house in Texas in the summertime?  You get the picture.

So here I am South of Sixty.  Great big, flashy earrings.  No necklace, bracelet, hat, gloves, girdle OR pantyhose.  The year my hip broke followed by the year my foot was fused, made it possible to never wear “hose” again.  I cover the combat boots I have to wear now with black slacks.  There are a few advantages to broken body parts!  Comfort while wearing clothes and shoes.

I have to make an “aside” here: I do still have all my beautiful high heels.  Lots of beautiful high heels.  I have given instructions to every person in my family that upon my passing, all my high heels are to be put in the casket with me.  I may not be able to wear them here on earth anymore, but I’m dancin’ in Heaven in beautiful high heels!  I’m sure women won’t have to wear hose or girdles in Heaven.  End of  “aside”.

Now back to the point of comfort.  South of Sixty I am now comfortable with what I wear.  Except for the bra.  Being amply endowed was OK when I was a teenager, young married woman in my twenties, career woman in my thirties and forties.  By fifty, I began to wish to have needed a training bra at twelve rather than a C cup.  Knowledge gained with age – cup sizes cover the entire alphabet!  Who knew there was a cup size HHH!

Epiphany!  I don’t have to get dressed to go to work anymore.  Now I just wear a robe all day but I’m not saying what I might or might not have on under the robe.  My robes are nice robes.  I have a few ratty ones still for even more comfort.

Another “aside” here - I used to have ratty nightgowns but the morning my hip broke while trying to sit on the toilet, I had my husband pull it off me and pull a nice robe over my head!  So now I have nice nightgowns in case another hip decides it’s had enough up and down on toilets.  End of “aside”.

But most of all, my robes are nice.  So nice in fact, that there have been a couple of occasions I actually wore my nice robe to the vet’s office to drop off the dog for grooming and to the massage therapist because I was just going to get undressed anyway so why get dressed to get undressed.  Eccentric has its advantages.  Oh, I wear nice house shoes as well. 

South of Sixty is OK.  As long as I can wear big, flashy earrings!