You Look Fantastic

A shopping trip last weekend took me to the local mall, where I found myself walking beside a woman in a truly incredible outfit. She had on dark brown leather pants (they looked expensive, so I’m thinking they were genuine), and an olive green wool jacket with an artistic panel of pleating and buttons down the back, and a few colorful and well-crafted details on the front lapels. Not much of a description, I know, but take my word that she looked fantastic.

The rest of her outfit was just as stylish, from her boots to her short, wavy coif—and I noticed she had gray hair. Actual it-grew-in-this-way older gray hair; not I-dyed-it-like-this younger gray hair. I remembered hearing just the other day that we rarely get compliments on our look once we pass a certain age—and I like to compliment strangers anyway—so I turned and emphatically told her, “Your outfit is fantastic.”

And guess what she said?

“Well, we have to try harder when we get older.”

<Record scratch> What?!?

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, I know we’ve been trained to weigh ourselves against some kind of 20-something-year-old ideal in matters of looks and fitness and fashion. But this was an objectively gorgeous outfit! And expensive! Did I mention expensive? This wasn’t something she just happened to throw on. This was a well-planned exhibition of sartorial splendor, and she looked fanfuckingtastic. But there she was, pretending it was just a pretty good attempt.

I wanted to step into her path and say, “Lady, let’s talk. Let’s sit down for coffee while I fill your head with the research I’ve read and the things I’ve learned—and don’t let me stop until you’re happily taking credit for being the best-dressed woman around and you’re emphatically agreeing that age has nothing to do with it.”

But I know that not everyone wants to be told, “Hey, your attitude is all wrong—let me change that.”

So I settled for one of my standard responses: A warm look and an emphatic, “Ahh, we don’t have to believe what the media tell us—right?”

She smiled. And who knows—maybe she felt what I meant. And maybe she’ll think about it. And maybe she’ll pass it on.