One of the joys of being a grandmother is spending time with one or other of my grand daughters – or both of them together.
Yesterday Lily and I went to that temple of consumerism, the magnificent shopping mall, Garden City. So many people, so many glum faces. After stopping for lunch (sushi) we made our way to the Apple Store. On the way we decided to count how many people were smiling. I’d like to say we lost count but that is not what happened. We eventually toted up our score and reached the pathetic sum of fourteen! I guess we walked toward at least a few hundred people but only fourteen had a smile on their dial. We didn’t count the delightful assistant in the Apple Store – she was most taken with Lily’s style – and so was I. Lily is original in her manner and her dress; a non-conformist like her granny! Nevertheless, she always looks lovely and carries off her choice of outfit with panache.
So, when I was younger I often looked at older women and wondered why they were wearing whatever it was they were wearing. Yes, I admit to a fair amount of judgement there. What I have discovered over the years is that they probably didn’t care. And they certainly didn’t care what some impudent young person thought anyway. How do I know? Because that is where I am now. I wear what I like, when I like and don’t really care what anyone else thinks.
I must’ve been hiding somewhere when the skill of ‘dresses tastefully’ was handed out. As an adult I generally took the easy option, wearing black skirt, white shirt and black jacket with maybe a colourful scarf (if I remembered), or the fallback of blue jeans and white tee.
I have more than a couple of memories of outfits I’d rather forget (especially the frilly, see-through purple top) – in the days when it seemed to matter to me. Nowadays it is just not a stress factor. Kath chooses most of my ‘good’ clothes and she has got excellent taste. The dress in the photo I did choose for myself and it is one of my wins, and I don’t even have to iron it.