It was not my best look when an ill wind gusted across Bradfield Park the other day and exposed my voluminous flesh-toned granny cacks to about two hundred St Aloysius catholic boys who were innocently playing soccer nearby.
What was I thinking? Even ‘comfort’ is no excuse for wearing granny knickers in public.
Those wise words of my mother immediately came back to haunt me –those indelible ones about never leaving the house in fugly undies. I think she was about me being compromised in a road accident or something, but I now realise that this must be a widespread piece of motherly advice because, let’s face it, how often do you spot fleshy, nylon trunks in those ER scenes where they have to cut through clothing, anyway?
At least I know whom to blame for my anxiety issues.
So I added the incident to the growing list of fashion disasters I seem to have committed since I entered this arena called middle-age. As you know if you have followed my journey, it’s taken some practice to adapt my wardrobe to my advancing years and increasing volume, especially the ‘dressing your age’ part. And in my quest to remain stylish and attractive, I have made more than a few embarrassing fashion faux-pas.
Hell! I’m not afraid to admit that I’m still learning. But I do think that my dress-sense may have disappeared around the same time as the firmness of my boobs.
I’ve been more than a little guilty of being the proverbial ‘mutton dressed as lamb’ on more occasions than I’d like to admit and I also admit to resorting to ‘comfort’ fits prematurely, in the naive belief that I still looked good.
Here are 10 of my best disasters for you to learn from:
- That time in recent history, (before I discovered the maturity to understand that a high neckline can be more flattering for women of almost any age), when I foolishly assumed that a lower neckline and ‘getting the tits out for the boys’ might distract the eye from, let’s say, my less flattering areas. But I sometimes went WAY TOO FUCKING LOW and, frankly, I set off the mutton siren. I then often compounded my error by enhancing ‘the girls’ with a pumped up, ‘come and get me boys!’ push-up bra. Oh, the shame!
- Adorning my body with cheap and gaudy jewellery is one of my biggest faults. What can I say? My need for self-expression through a bit of sparkle increases as I get older! My excuse is that when they brought out my signature Lovisa range, the urge to ‘bling’ was far too overwhelming to ignore.
- My investment in a wardrobe of tent dresses to conceal my wobbly bits, because they looked so dressing gown comfortable. I know now that they make me look EVEN bigger, of course – just think about Liz Taylor and her range of kaftans.
- Alice bands –WRONG! WRONG! JUST SO FUCKING WRONG! NC actually smacked my hand yesterday morning when I picked up one of those uber-trendy floral headbands. I think her words were: ‘Are you fucking serious?’
- Big bold patterns that make a statement and look as though the dog just vomited on me. I now know they don’t make the kind of statement I want.
- Those cutesy, Cue, retro dresses with the cinched-in waistband that break the bank and look so good on the hanger or on young women. They’re too twee for us mature women of the world.
- The times that I’ve worn NC’s wardrobe in pathetic retribution for all of the times she wore my clothes and looked better in them, trashed or never returned them. I shudder when I remember face-planting in the drive in NC’s shoes.
- Going wild for fluoro colours, especially orange – hmmm – I’m not sure you should be allowed to even wear those colours if you’re white, to be honest.
- Crop tops – the less said the better.
- The old combo of a tight top that’s just a little too short, over a skirt where the waistband is just that little bit too tight – P.L.E.A.S.E! – a squashed Big Mac springs to mind. A compromised muffin top is not a good look on anyone.
NC* suggested I add ‘bikinis’ to the list. WTF! Obviously I have cut off all her uni allowances, cancelled her subscription to Rock World and locked away her science and Harry Potter books for a week. I also intend to flirt outrageously with NB* on his next visit.
NC* Nerd Child
NB* Nerd Boy