When you turn 50, you
get an invitation to join
AARP.
When you turn 40, you
get a note that says, ``Just
shut up now, and do what
Oprah tells you.’’
Unlike the AARP invite,
this note isn’t a literal piece
of mail. It’s more of a pervasive
cultural message
broadcast from every magazine
cover, cosmetics ad
and Hollywood plot. Being
40 puts you in a new category
— namely, the category
of no longer being able to
trust your own instincts,
particularly where fashion
and beauty are concerned.
Your unreliable nature may
extend to other things, as
well. Your impaired judgment
regarding your children’s
clothing, music and
general habits is so obvious
as to hardly bear mentioning.
Your children will mention
it, however. Often.
Your ineptness may extend
even farther, well into
territory you thought was
safe. For instance, what
you thought you knew
about success, priorities,
wealth, health and even
your own inner life is quite
possibly completely wrong.
It’s okay. Oprah understands.
Oprah has never
been there herself, because
she is smarter than you
(and me, and all of us). But
she and the rest of Team
Oprah are more than happy
to pitch in to help set you
straight.
It isn’t just Oprah, of
course; it’s nearly a national
pastime.
We’re pretty attractive
targets, when you stop to
think about it.
By age 40, or thereabouts,
we’ve grown wise
enough to accept that we
still have a lot to learn. We
may not be suggestible, like
we were at 15, but we’re
open to suggestion. And
maybe you start thinking
in a different way about
life’s Big Questions.
Why are we here?
What have I contributed
to the world?
Am I too old to wear leggings?
I call it the Grand Legging
Question. And I will
admit that I spend more
time than I’d like pondering
it.
If I wear leggings, will I
look like I’m trying to hard
to look young? I don’t want
that. I don’t even care about
being young. I welcome age
and every experience that
comes with it. And yet, I
find myself turning over
and over in my mind the
Grand Legging Question
and following it down unforeseen
rabbit holes.
Is there a way to wear
them that will look sophisticated
and artsy? Or sophisticated
and sporty?
How can I make it perfectly
clear that I’m not trying to
look like a teenager?
What if I spend a lot of
money on them, will that
help? In my world, this
week, it happens to be leggings.
But it could be any
number of things.
It would be so easy if
there were a singular, exhaustive
resource to answer
all these questions. My
grandparents had Emily
Post. On my bookshelf,
there is a 1940s edition of
Vogue’s etiquette manual,
which does indeed address
dressing. Wear brown or
tweed when traveling by
train to the countryside, because
trains can be dusty.
What I wouldn’t give to
be able to open a manual to
the section on being both
fashion forward and age
appropriate.
For us, I guess Oprah is
as close as we can get.
Elizabeth Trever Buchinger
wore leggings the first
time they were fashionable,
and that might answer her
question right there. You
can connect with her at
www/moremindfulfamily.
wordpress.com.
This Wonderful Life
August 13, 2009
This Wonderful Life: When in doubt, turn to Oprah
- This Wonderful Life
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- This Wonderful Life: I can say No, but I prefer Yes If popular culture is any indication, it seems women suffer from an epidemic inability to refuse additional responsibilities. Magazines, self-help books and therapists nationwide offer heaps of advice on how to assert oneself, draw boundaries and generally say No when asked to sign on for those things for which we have little time and less interest.
- This Wonderful Life: I wish someone had told me Disclaimer: Because my son more or less demanded that I stop using him and his life as material for my column back when he was 12 or 13, I want to make it perfectly clear to all my readers (and any legal professionals who are now retained or may be retained at some future time by aforementioned son) that this column is not about him. It’s about me. The fact that he happened to turn 21 on Saturday is mere coincidence. So help me God.
- This Wonderful Life: A view through bare branches Every morning, Bee and I stand at the end of the driveway waiting for her bus and we look up into the branches of the elm tree that arches over the drive.
- This Wonderful Life: To Posey on her fourth So here we are, on the other side of 3-years-old, and it seems we both survived it intact. It wasn’t easy, but perhaps it made us both stronger.
- This Wonderful Life: A Posey by any other name... A few weeks ago, Posey gave us all new names. Or, to be more accurate, Posey gave us all one new name. Rose.
- This Wonderful Life: Are pork chops really that good? If it seems unlikely for a vegetarian (that would be me) to own a couple of table- bound pigs, it probably seems downright absurd that their names should be Tender and Delicious.
- This Wonderful Life: I sssssseeeeeee you there The first thing you should know is that I used to suffer from a snake phobia. The operative word there is phobia. It wasn’t just a matter of disliking snakes. It wasn’t a fear of being bitten. It wasn’t a simple reluctance to touch their impossibly dry, nimble bodies.
- This Wonderful Life: What’s so funny? My kids, I hope In my experience as a three-time parent, there is something absolutely, spiritually magical about the first time your child cracks a joke.
- This Wonderful Life: Who are these little girls? There are two children in my house who bear a striking resemblance to my daughters. They are adorable, smart and energetic.
- This Wonderful Life: A harvest that’s good for the soul Signs of harvest are all around. The afternoon sun glows amber over the fields and the farm stands are filled to overflowing with vegetables and fruit. We’re lucky to live in a place where we can have such an immediate connection to the food we eat.
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