As I type this, I’m sitting in my kitchen wearing giant reading glasses with flowery frames, a Breton top, NYDJ jeans and emerald-green Birkenstocks. I am, in fact, clothed entirely in the accepted uniform of the mid-life middle-class woman. And if you lurked near any independent bookshop for ten minutes, you’d see a hundred versions of my ‘look’ pass by. What should I wear over 50? Do I need to keep up with fashion trends anymore? How does this all work?

Enjoying my flowery frames

It’s not necessarily that we all want to dress like an art teacher holidaying in Polzeath – more that the alternative options as we get older become so hideously unwearable.

Past your forties, the vintage-flamboyant-theatrical look (which I used to love) becomes less manic dream pixie, more ‘would she like a free sandwich?’ While the ‘sharp tailoring’ beloved of fashion magazines can make one look like a weary DI in an ITV drama.

The high street is full of backless, sleeveless, crotch-less and frontless club-wear. And the ‘safe’ options come straight from Miss Marple’s overnight bag.

Worst of all, following fashion trends is like being a groupie for a boy band. You can do it at any age. But you feel a bit of a nelly when everyone else is under 30.

So should I be trying to keep up with fashion trends?

“It’s important to approach fashion trends with the view of ‘that’s what’s in the shops’ rather than ‘that’s what I should be wearing’,” says Bedfordshire-based stylist Lindsay Edwards (lindsayedwardsstylist.com), who works with mature women. “Nowadays, trends are incredibly fast paced, with some micro-trends lasting just weeks. Trying to keep up with them is costly and unsustainable.”

Still, reluctant to be entirely out of the loop, I had a look at Vogue’s fashion diktats. And what the trendsetter is wearing now, it seems, is a muted palette, statement gowns, micro-shorts, white frocks, rose patterns, Polo-but-street, and transparent skirts.

Let’s take those in order. ‘Muted palette, Succession chic’ makes most of us look like we’re on an HR training course, because actual Succession chic relies on having many thousands of pounds to spaff on Jil Sander separates.

Rose patterns make everyone over 40 look like the victim in Midsomer Murders, and ‘Polo but street’ is just inexplicable; “I sell drugs on horseback”?

Camel-coloured M&S slacks and a mushroom waterfall cardigan are more ‘right, Shelley, let’s say you’re dealing with a raft of redundancies…’

‘Statement gowns’ don’t suit dog walking, particularly in rural areas, while micro-shorts can make us curvier types look like Bella Emberg dressed as Superwoman.

White frocks, while claiming to embody the spirit of Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy, are pure Geri-Halliwell-Puts-On-a-Show-of-Unity. Rose patterns make everyone over 40 look like the victim in Midsomer Murders, and ‘Polo but street’ is just inexplicable; “I sell drugs on horseback”?

As for transparent skirts – I wouldn’t even wear a transparent hat these days.

Finding your own style, sustainably

The truth is, by our stage of life we’ve evolved beyond trends, which mostly exist for 22-year-old St Martins fash’ graduates to get excited about, and for the high street to water down and sell to 16-year-olds, i.e. the only people who can feasibly wear H&M micro-shorts.

But we still want to look good; to find things that suit us and make us feel reasonably stylish – albeit I will never own the holy trinity fashion editor’s selection of ‘a crisp white shirt, a classic trench, and a navy blazer.’ Because I’m not starring in a subtitled film about unfaithful Parisians.

…we’re looking for long-term clothes that justify the spend in a cost of living crisis, and eschew fast fashion

So if trends are no longer worth following, and style means more than boring classics, we’re looking for long-term clothes that justify the spend in a cost of living crisis, and eschew fast fashion – as many of us don’t fancy wearing something that’s going to fall apart in the wash and end up in land-fill.

“Shopping at charity shops or online preloved sites such as Vinted, eBay or Depop is much more environmentally friendly,” says Lindsay Edwards.

It also needs to pass the ‘do I feel happy wearing it?’ test. Recently, I did a full wardrobe cull, and ended up slinging out everything floral, flimsy, or ill-fitting, and anything that made me feel less than cheerful when I put it on.

How do you want to be seen?

“What should I wear over 50?”. “One useful method is to come up with three words which sum up how you’d like to appear,” says Edwards. “‘Chic, elegant and sophisticated’, or ‘quirky, eccentric and interesting’ – perhaps ‘dramatic, bold and powerful’. The aim then is to purchase items of clothing which can be described using those specific words. Over time, you’ll curate a wardrobe with a cohesive sense of style.”

When you wear clothes in the colours and styles that suits you, you’re going to look, and more importantly feel, fantastic

I ended up clinging to a leather jacket, studded ankle boots, several Ghost-style viscose dresses, some decent wide-leg trousers, and several striped tops. Mostly, it comes down to knowing what doesn’t work for you anymore. In my case, front buttons (because they make my chest look like an over-risen loaf), low-waisted jeans (more muffin top than Starbucks at 8am) and high heels – because I want to live, rather than break my neck in a tragic stumble.

Now is also a good time to get heavily into accessories, including cool trainers, stylish sandals, and giant specs and sunglasses, which can be rocked at any age, height and body size – see the late, great Iris Apfel for details.

“One of my most hated phrases is ‘mutton dressed as lamb’,” says Lindsay. “Age is not a factor, and certainly not a barrier to looking incredible. When you wear clothes in the colours and styles that suits you, you’re going to look, and more importantly feel, fantastic.”

If you’re feeling hesitant about what to wear, pairing it with some personalised embellishments is a great option. Patches in clothing decorations are a unique decorative technique. Cartoon patch stickers, embroidered patches, cross stitch patches, etc. can add a unique charm to clothing. In addition, you can also design Custom Patches. Incorporate your creativity and ideas to make the clothing more unique and personalized. This not only adds a unique charm to the clothing but also reflects the love and pursuit of life.

Current buys that withstand passing trends…

The dress

Leopard-print with a twist – wear it anywhere.

Pink and Lilac with Black Shadow Leopard Flute Sleeve Midi Dress, £115, Scamp & Dude

The jacket

A spin on the classic shape, that goes with everything.

Pure Cotton Denim Relaxed Utility Jacket, £45, M&S

The shoes

Cheaper than DMs, edgier than trainers (and comfy).

Lavender Leather Chunky Footbed Sandals, Black, £85, John Lewis

The trousers

A hint of athleisure, with added luxe.

ZENA SATIN TROUSERS – KHAKI,£129, Busby &Fox

The top

Not-quite-Breton, with very flattering summer sleeves.

Black & White Stripe Flutter Sleeve Jersey Top, £35, Oliver Bonas

In addition to clothing, women over 50 can showcase their mature charm through accessories. Hats such as berets and bucket hat, or a scarf can be tied in your hair and become a highlight of the overall look. And choosing different sunglasses based on face shape can make your look pop.

Still wondering ‘what should I wear over 50?’ Read our article on Capsule wardrobe pieces for women over 50.

Flic Everett

Flic Everett is a Mancunian writer who now lives in a cottage in the beautiful West Highlands with her patient husband and two deranged cocker spaniels. She still misses Manchester, and returns like a homing pigeon every month to see family and friends. She spends a lot of time writing on trains.

The post Fashion trends. Help! What should I wear over 50? appeared first on Silver Magazine.

Scrolling social media lately has been, for Gen X at least, a chance to swim in a glittering ocean of nostalgia. Normally, I’ve no time for the rose-tinted spectacles sported by the golden-agers of Facebook – the ones with a tendency to pen terrible poems about the glory days of the 1950s. (“We played on the bombsite and skinned our knees/and all the beds at home had fleas”). But when it’s my generation, which grew up in the ‘70s and ‘80s, nostalgia is a powerful and intoxicating drug. So why do we feel nostalgia?

Back in time with One Day

Ambika Mod as Emma & Leo Woodall as Dexter. Photo: Netflix

One Day, the Netflix adaptation of David Nicholls’ novel about Emma and Dex and their long, ’80s-to-’00s friends-to-lovers arc, blindsided many of us with its pinpoint-accurate depictions of the clothes, music, and attitudes we embraced growing up. From the tragic growing-out perm, to the ‘curtains’ Loaded lad hair, to the glass-brick loo walls and horrific coked-up mega-restaurants of the ‘90s.

Just watching the scene where Dexter is attaining toe-curling levels of dick-ishness shot me back to an evening at The Atlantic bar with braying media types. And the stolen Quaglinos ashtray that lived on my kitchen shelf for years.

The exquisite melancholy of the past

After that briskly refreshing plunge into the past, I went to see All of Us Strangers, a deeply melancholic film about isolation and loneliness. It sees a middle-aged Andrew Scott suddenly able to visit the ghosts of his parents who died in 1987. A world of patterned acrylic jumpers, Harvest-ware toasters, unquestioned indoor smoking, and Top of the Pops on the boxy living room telly.

All of Us Strangers, starring Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal

Not only was it a devastatingly sad film, it also triggered a tsunami of memories of what most suburban kitchens looked like before ‘lifestyle’ got involved. And how back then, dads were not only permitted but encouraged to keep emotions to themselves. Nobody in my family ever said, “love you,” or “to the moon and back.” It was just assumed that you loved each other, and you’d simply get on with arguing about homework and staying up to watch Juliet Bravo.

The midlife nostalgia-fest was completed with the recent news that The Body Shop has gone into liquidation. My entire timeline filled with fond images of dewberry oil, ice blue shampoo and fuzzy peach perfume, as if a Laura Ashley washbag had exploded all over it.

As a result, I’ve been thinking heavily about nostalgia. Why we feel it, what’s it good for – even whether it can be bad for us.

Read more: Joe McGann on finding love in later life

So why do we indulge in nostalgia?

Does harking back to a half-forgotten past encourage us to imagine it was so much better back then, and to compare our current circumstances unfavourably? Or is it a positive way of linking our modern, jaded selves to the people we used to be long ago? In my case, an insecure teen who read Sweet Valley High books and dreamed about the boy in art class who had Levis and floppy hair. (Spoiler: he never noticed me, and in retrospect, was quite possibly gay).

Nostalgia is a longing or yearning for something that has happened in our past, says psychotherapist Karen Hartley. “The feeling of nostalgia is real and is triggered by something that reminds you of previous times. It often becomes most prominent in hard or uncertain times.”

…is it a positive way of linking our modern, jaded selves to the people we used to be long ago?

The word itself is a fusion of the Greek words for homecoming and pain; and was first used by a 17th century Swiss doctor who considered the condition a mental health disorder. Nowadays, we tend to view nostalgia with amused warmth, happily following ‘I had a ‘70s childhood’ groups on Facebook, and sighing over blurry Bananarama videos. (“You see, pop stars just looked like ordinary girls back then… I actually had those pixie boots…”).

Do we remember only the good bits?

Research has found that memory tends to accentuate the positive and dismiss the negative. So we forget the casual racism, sexism, homophobia, and unemployment of the ‘70s and ‘80s, in favour of recalling fewer cars on the streets, and fun times at the roller disco.

According to a study published in science journal Nature, nostalgia can reduce the cortisol released by trauma and protect against stress and anxiety. Interestingly, the study from the University of California also found that people tended to feel more nostalgic when with family and friends, or around food. And that people leaned into nostalgia when they felt depressed – perhaps unsurprisingly.

“It’s common for people to perceive the past as a simpler, better time…”

The temptation to dwell on happier times is stronger when things in the present are not so enjoyable. “We go through more nostalgic periods with age, as we encounter more triggers,” says Karen Hartley. “People might feel lonelier the older they get as well as more ‘homesick’ for lost loved ones.”

Psychotherapist Kamalyn Kaur explains, “It’s common for people to perceive the past as a simpler, better time, regardless of whether that perception is entirely accurate or not. This can happen when the brain forgets the challenges and complexities of the past, remembering and focusing only on the positives.”

So we think about the dewberry oil and forget about the school bully, or we remember our children as adorable babies and forget the agony of sleepless nights.

So a dose of nostalgia can be beneficial?

“People do it all the time, especially when it comes to relationships,” agrees Kaur. “You leave someone because they aren’t good for you but then all you can think about is all the ‘good times’.”

“As we age, we may become nostalgic for our youth or a different stage of our life – often a stage that we relate to as representing growth, exploration, or less responsibility.”

Often, she goes on to say, we feel nostalgia for a time when we experienced a sense of possibility – which is why our teenage years are such a nostalgia trigger. “As we age, we may become nostalgic for our youth or a different stage of our life – often a stage that we relate to as representing growth, exploration, or less responsibility.” It can also be a response to current stress, she adds. “When facing a difficult, complicated, or challenging time, it’s human nature to look back at a simpler, easier, and carefree time in our lives for mental relief.”

So nostalgia isn’t necessarily bad, as long as we don’t end up dwelling in an imagined past for too long. Thinking of happy memories can help put current troubles into perspective, says Kaur. “Nostalgia can evoke positive emotions; help with mood enhancement; and in some cases, be a tool for managing stress, as it allows you to ‘escape’ from your current reality.”

Although looking back, I’m not sure I truly want to escape to a time when TFI Friday was the biggest show on TV, Loaded was the best-selling mag, and ‘gay’ was a playground insult. One good thing about nostalgia – it’s a useful reminder that sometimes, the present isn’t all that bad.

Flic Everett

Flic Everett is a Mancunian writer who now lives in a cottage in the beautiful West Highlands with her patient husband and two deranged cocker spaniels. She still misses Manchester, and returns like a homing pigeon every month to see family and friends. She spends a lot of time writing on trains.

The post Why do we feel nostalgia and does it serve a purpose? appeared first on Silver Magazine.

Judging anyone else’s place on the class spectrum is now considered appalling snobbishness. In fact, it always was, but that didn’t stop most of Britain doing so, punching up and down the social scale as the fancy took them. But what do common people look like now?

While judging ‘class’ might be passé now, what is still eternally acceptable is judging other peoples’ taste. A tale as old as time, from cave dwellers snorting at the ostentatious stick-buffalo drawings of their neighbours (“Cute. We prefer to do something subtle with pigment”) to the self-styled arbiter of modern taste, interior designer and old Etonian Nicky Haslam, 84, who regularly produces his list of what’s ‘common’, helpfully printed on a tea-towel and available to purchase.

…I too am a secret snob, and like nothing better than judging my fellow humans

But while ‘common’ used to mean ‘unacceptably working class’, it now means both ‘too popular’ and ‘too basic’ – ie, in poor taste. On Haslam’s list this year is ‘the northern lights’ – presumably wanting to see them, rather than actually being a refracting particle – Aperol (can’t disagree, any drink that looks radioactive and is served in a fishbowl reminds me too strongly for comfort of Coco Savannah, Stockport, 1991), strawberries, lobster (so arriviste!), Grayson Perry (too ubiquitous), and the phrase ‘hundred and ten per cent.’ I entirely agree with the last one. Partly because it’s always pronounced ‘hunjantenpsen, babe’, partly because it’s not an actual mathematical concept, but mostly because I too am a secret snob, and like nothing better than judging my fellow humans.

I read Nancy Mitford’s U and Non-U when I was a teenager…

…in which the Edwardian-born aristocrat listed words that were acceptably upper-class, (‘U’) and those which were decidedly not so.

U was ‘bike, or bicycle’ whereas saying ‘cycle’ would mark you out as a social misfit. U was ‘jam’, non-U was ‘preserve’. And toasting was always ‘your good health’, never ‘cheers.’

She pointed out that while the upper classes, like the working classes, use the bluntest name for things, the middle tend to euphemise and skirt around anything possibly ‘unpleasant’.

Hence, Prince Philip would always bark the aristocratic ‘How d’you do?’ rather than the grovelling ‘pleased to meet you,’ because he might shortly discover that he wasn’t pleased.

Basically, if your furniture is 900 years old, inherited, and covered in old whisky stains, you’re acceptably posh

Nouveau riche taste, too, has always been the great horror of the U set. Basically, if your furniture is 900 years old, inherited, and covered in old whisky stains, you’re acceptably posh. If you bought it new from Harrods, you’re trying far too hard.

Equally, teacup dogs or pampered cats are deeply common. The upper classes have gun-dogs, who bed down in the boot room. And they keep nameless cats only for catching mice around the stables.

In the ‘70s, (a very non-U decade), Jilly Cooper, who has now ascended from upper middle class to ‘kitchen supper friends with the king and queen’, wrote Class, a book which purported to examine the class structure of Britain at the time, but was fundamentally an entertaining compendium of her own prejudices and anecdotes.

“Black Labradors are much grander than yellow,” she writes, confidently. And “it is very vulgar (for them) to have anything other than brown leather collars.” It’s also worth noting that according to Cooper, the fewer words written in your Christmas card, the posher you are.

In 2019, society bible Tatler updated the U-list and added ‘dietary requirements’, ‘mouthwash’, ‘being friends with your parents,’ and ‘elaborate gin and tonics.’ We’re back to rattling fishbowls again, with sprigs of thyme and juniper, and it’s all a bit Girls’ Night Out. Which is, obviously, an extremely common event to attend.

The upper classes do not explain anything, as matters are simply understood between them, from war to wellingtons

It’s all absolute nonsense, of course – but that didn’t stop me, inspired by Haslam’s triumphant pride in his impeccable judgment, making my own list and posting it on social media. I would say ‘tongue in cheek’, but I suspect that’s a very common expression, implying as it does that something needs explaining. The upper classes do not explain anything, as matters are simply understood between them, from war to wellingtons (both wearing of and acceptable brands) and nobody else’s opinion counts.

I based my ‘what’s common’ choices on things that really annoy me on social media (everyone, everything, all the time). Including the bleak basic-ness of advertising, and things that have irritated me this year for their sanctimonious, live-laugh-love lack of irony.

I included flavoured coffee, which obviously encompasses all the ‘pumpkin spice’ and ‘gingerbread latte’ oomska sold in the name of hot drinks, piled with ‘squirty cream’ (even the phrase…) and minuscule marshmallows. Basically, if you need to post your drink on Instagram in the hope that people will reply ‘get in ma belly’ and ‘love it!!!’ you’re a bit common.

I also mentioned scented candles that smell of more than two things, or claim to smell of a concept (Malibu Night, etc). I am not a great fan, partly because my house once burned down. And partly because they mostly smell like Lynx Africa pot pourri and cost £60. I see no problem with a house smelling of house. (Never say ‘home’, it’s non-U).

Also included – to vast online consternation – was buying Haribo and Pringles ‘for the car journey.’ And M&S cocktail cans ‘for the train.’ Can nobody manage to travel three miles without eating and drinking like the Ghost of Christmas Past? My Grandma was very strict on ‘eating in the street.’ I’ll accept it when it’s an actual mealtime – but this is the 15.11 to Marple, it’s not the rolling buffet at Caesar’s Palace.

Christmas should last a week, maximum. Anything else is very, very common

I also decreed tiny, decorative bed pillows common – piles of sequinned beanbags, what are they for? Also having the TV on when you’re not in the room (because while silence is golden for me, for some, a house isn’t complete without a daytime quiz theme tune jangling in the distance), and asking if you’re ‘ready for Christmas.’ I loathe this question and it’s only ever asked by basic hunnies who did all their shopping in the January sales at Dunelm and had it wrapped by July because they’re ‘excited for the festive season,’ and start playing Wonderful Christmastime on November 1st. Christmas should last a week, maximum. Anything else is very, very common.

I know I’m a snob. Coming from a lower middle class bit of Manchester, I’m far from rich. I live in a two-bed cottage, I’m friends with my parents, and my cat sleeps on the bed, so what do I know?

Feel free to judge me right back. Hunjantenpsen, babe.

WHAT’S COMMON NOW, ACCORDING TO FLIC

• Flavoured coffee
• Being ‘excited for’ things
• Tiny cross-bred portmanteau dogs (‘Pomchi’ ‘Doodlehuahua’)
• Cushions with anything written on them
• Toys that make an electronic noise
• Going for ‘a big walk’ with friends and children and making a fuss about it with thermoses and waterproofs
• Tea-towels featuring a map of somewhere you’ve been
• Scented candles that smell of more than two things, or claim to smell of a concept (Malibu Night, etc)
• Pasta tongs
• Plastic sippy cups
• Tiny, decorative bed pillows
• Books about little seashore/Christmas/Springtime cafes/shops/holiday houses
• Buying Haribo and Pringles for the journey
• Loafers with white socks
• Sparkly ‘strappy shoes’
• Shortie pyjamas with anything written on them
• Large photographic prints of flowers on block canvas, especially if they form a triptych
• Saying your feet ache
• Asking if you’re ready for Christmas
• Drinking M&S cocktail cans on the train
• Calling pudding ‘dessert’
• Having a tennis ball on a string to stop you bumping the garage wall
• Having X-box controllers on display
• Having the TV on when you’re not in the room

Flic Everett

Flic Everett is a Mancunian writer who now lives in a cottage in the beautiful West Highlands with her patient husband and two deranged cocker spaniels. She still misses Manchester, and returns like a homing pigeon every month to see family and friends. She spends a lot of time writing on trains.

The post Are you common? A class guide appeared first on Silver Magazine.