The day I became fully aware of myself relative to the people surrounding me and in the context that I was regarded as an individual - a child, that is - was I think the day that I wished I could speed up growing. I thought being a child had so many limitations. I wanted to escape doing school assignments and projects. I envied my mother who would wake up later than me, go to work, come home by 5pm, and didn't have anything to worry over aside from routine housework that could not all be delegated to the helper. I felt more mature than children my age, but, then again, obviously, I was not making real sense of life as it were. I might be around 10 years old at the time these thoughts were running in my pubescent mind.
Fast forward to 28 years later, I have not denied nor evaded queries about my age. In fact, I would always round it off to the right on the number line. I am acually looking forward to when I could rightfully and proudly say, "I'm forty." :-)
Has it been 28 years already? Somehow, I don't feel it's been that long. Although, yes, I may look even more advanced than my 38 years (rounded off). Please say no! :-) But, I still like shopping in stores that cater to the young - Kamiseta, Bayo, etc.
Fashion experts and/or stylists segmentize their market by age, usually into 20s, 30s, 40s, and 50s and up. And they would recommend specific colors/hues and designs/cuts for each age bracket. This is a subject of argument between myself and my conservative husband. He would object to prints, plaids, and loud colors, and would only compliment my get-up when it had no frills and was in earth color. Oh, he thinks he's an expert, able to tell the kind of textile even. He would spoil my day when I would ride with him going to work, shaking his head or giving me a sarcastic/devilish smile, scorning my outfit. But I don't actually hate him for it, because I know he has an elegant, classic taste, and just wanted to make me dress smarter. Unfortunately, I didn't have the money to patronize signature clotheslines in the likes of Prada, Armani, or even the low end of the high-end such as M&S, Promod, and elite brands I only encounter when I find myself (rarely) in the posh shops at Greenbelt or Shangri-La, or when I get to swing by Singapore and walk the Orchard Road. :-)
The bottom line is that I can not as yet give up pink, from the palest to its brightest shade -- reminds me of the singer Pink! Just give me a reason, baby, why I ought to ditch pink. I won't on account of my age. :-)
Well, whatever feels right, no matter how young or old we are, I feel we should go for that. But we must also be wise and consider the advice of the people who sincerely care and only have our best interests at heart. Allow them to temper but not kill the fun and adventure of how we conduct ourselves, by how we dress, and in other ways.
To my husband, I would again say, "Just live, and let live. Never mind that others (including your wife) seem to have forgotten to dress their age."
Fast forward to 28 years later, I have not denied nor evaded queries about my age. In fact, I would always round it off to the right on the number line. I am acually looking forward to when I could rightfully and proudly say, "I'm forty." :-)
Has it been 28 years already? Somehow, I don't feel it's been that long. Although, yes, I may look even more advanced than my 38 years (rounded off). Please say no! :-) But, I still like shopping in stores that cater to the young - Kamiseta, Bayo, etc.
Fashion experts and/or stylists segmentize their market by age, usually into 20s, 30s, 40s, and 50s and up. And they would recommend specific colors/hues and designs/cuts for each age bracket. This is a subject of argument between myself and my conservative husband. He would object to prints, plaids, and loud colors, and would only compliment my get-up when it had no frills and was in earth color. Oh, he thinks he's an expert, able to tell the kind of textile even. He would spoil my day when I would ride with him going to work, shaking his head or giving me a sarcastic/devilish smile, scorning my outfit. But I don't actually hate him for it, because I know he has an elegant, classic taste, and just wanted to make me dress smarter. Unfortunately, I didn't have the money to patronize signature clotheslines in the likes of Prada, Armani, or even the low end of the high-end such as M&S, Promod, and elite brands I only encounter when I find myself (rarely) in the posh shops at Greenbelt or Shangri-La, or when I get to swing by Singapore and walk the Orchard Road. :-)
The bottom line is that I can not as yet give up pink, from the palest to its brightest shade -- reminds me of the singer Pink! Just give me a reason, baby, why I ought to ditch pink. I won't on account of my age. :-)
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| My daughter Gabee is crazy over everything pink, down to foods that are pink. |
Well, whatever feels right, no matter how young or old we are, I feel we should go for that. But we must also be wise and consider the advice of the people who sincerely care and only have our best interests at heart. Allow them to temper but not kill the fun and adventure of how we conduct ourselves, by how we dress, and in other ways.
To my husband, I would again say, "Just live, and let live. Never mind that others (including your wife) seem to have forgotten to dress their age."
3 comments:
keep on wearing pink, my friend. it never gets old :)
Thanks, H! We both like pink, don't we? :-)
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thanks an set to this queer deliberation
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