The Art of Reinvention: Clothes, Confidence, & Crises

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It’s a strange thing to find yourself in your late forties when you don’t actually feel that old. I’d always heard older people say, “You’re only as old as you feel”, but realising I was three years off 50 gave me a bit of a jolt earlier this month. It was a fun friend, the same age as me, who casually pointed it out. I’m rarely speechless, but yep—I just stared back at her, mouth like a fish out of water.

The thing is, I deliberately didn’t have children, so I don’t have that usual measuring stick for the passing of time. Honestly? I think I’m 30. Eternally. Or sometimes 18, depending on the day. (I'm pretty sure my nephews think I’m a big kid. I hope they think I’m cool—I play video games, join them for a kickabout, and can talk endlessly about anything creative.)

Despite feeling young at heart, I lost myself a little last year. Actually, I’d been drifting that way for a while. Pouring time and energy into work, into more “worthwhile” pursuits than worrying about which bag to carry or whether skinny jeans are still a thing. I was so busy I hardly noticed my eyebrows going grey. I neglected my skincare, my nails—the works. And part of me thought, Isn’t all that a bit...vacuous? The feminist in me yells, “Don’t fall for the marketing BS! You’re better than that!”

But the truth is, I do believe how we present ourselves affects how we feel. A bit of effort can lead to more confidence and better mental well-being. When we feel good, we carry ourselves differently. It doesn’t have to mean overhauling everything—but let’s be honest, that’s precisely what we do when we realise our wardrobes no longer reflect us.

Where do you even start? I used to buy fashion magazines—dozens of them each month. Then came Pinterest and Instagram, where outfit inspo flows endlessly. Influencers sharing their style, every look linked to something magic called LTK. For a minute, it feels like you’ve found the answer. But soon, the overwhelm sets in. So many choices. You start to think you need the same shoe in 10 colours just to keep up.

I never think, “Oh, I’m too old to wear that!” I’ll wear whatever I damn well like, thanks. I lean towards simplicity—elegant, understated, minimalist. But I’m a walking contradiction: equal parts Tomboy and feminine. I love both sides. The result? I often end up confused about what to buy.

Lately, I’ve been enjoying the (slightly addictive) thrill of Internet shopping. Everything is at your fingertips—every size, colour, length, fabric. It’s amazing what can turn up at your door, wherever you live. There's a strange mix of guilt and wonder about how it got here. Of course, I try to shop responsibly, choosing sustainable and independent brands. But as a six-foot-tall woman? Sometimes, you have to bend the rules. Boutique shops rarely carry the right lengths or sizes for people like me. That’s where the high street really helps.

Because I’m such a tricky fit, my part-time job has become endless trips to the local Post Office, where they now greet me with, “Any luck this time?” Most days, the answer is no. Finding cropped jackets that hit the waist just right or size nine wide loafers that don’t pinch is no small task. I’ve sent a lot of stuff back.

So I go back to Instagram, hunting for that elusive perfect jacket or those dream jeans—until I hit decision fatigue and wonder how other women manage. After my best attempt at a full-style reinvention, I’ve found myself circling back to what I wore before: Parisian simplicity: a crisp white tee, French blue jeans, a slightly oversized blazer, and a few other failsafe looks that never go out of style.

I’ve added a few accessories to freshen things up: a tan suede bag, a brown leather belt, some new black flat sandals, and white barrel-leg jeans—simple updates to complement what I already have.

I can say with full confidence it’s easy to get distracted by all the beautifully dressed women on social media. But honestly, fashions come and go. If you stick to fewer, well-made classics, you’ll always look put-together without the stress or expense. And truthfully—does anyone really care what you’re wearing anyway?


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