Sari Botton's epiphany at Eileen Fisher

 Sari Botton, writer and editor of the illuminating Substack magazine Oldster, wrote a heartfelt post, "What Does It Mean to Dress Your Age?", available with the read-for-free option. In short, she visits an Eileen Fisher outlet store with a couple of male friends who deliver "Queer Eye for the Nearly-Age-60 Friend".

What is of more interest than the clothes (this is still EF) is her attitude: long a "Wear Whatever the F I Want" woman, she now grapples with whether it's "finally time to dress like an adult"—which she defines as "Like, it's my duty to adopt a more formal look—smart skirt suits, crisp blouses, gabardine slacks, tea-length dresses—but also loose, shapeless linen outfits in muted tones that don't call attention to the ever-increasing softness of my body and the changes in my shape."

Notice certain adjectives: formal, loose, shapeless, muted. I've been an adult far longer, and never signed up for that fate.

What about word duty?  When it concerns personal presentation, I see "duty" not solely as the dictionary definition ("a responsibility") but as a form of respect, whether for the site itself, e.g., the Royal Albert Hall; a fine-dining restaurant; a place of worship. What we choose to wear in public supports or rejects the intended tone of those settings. 

I also respect my hosts, and dress, not "formally", but more consciously when their guest. Sometimes, I respect the preferences of Le Duc, who has given up ever seeing me in heels again but does hope for a fitted top. 

Finally, I respect myself, choosing to look like a going concern even if only walking to the market, an elder who participates in public life. That does not, however, lead me to a skirt suit, unless I receive a summons to appear in court. But I would very much like to wear Boden's aubergine cord trouser suit, any day:

Photo: Boden UK

Having witnessed grungy, oppositional adolescences under my very roof, I view "I'll wear whatever the f I want"" as teenaged testing of norms. I still think of that era as It Wouldn't Kill You to Wear a Clean Shirt. Defiance at age 16 is part of the package; by 60 it suggests moth-eaten self-regard.

Botton's big-decade birthday is a reckoning about all aspects of life. My friend Giselle said hers came when at age 70 she traded the backpack she had taken to Brittany for four decades for a roller bag. For my 60th, I shed twee floral prints and a clump of corporate blazers.

Wearing clothes or accessories designed for persons born two generations after yours will not make  90% of women who try it look younger. (There is Carine Roitfeld, granted.) I'm not going to describe those pieces here, just walk through a mall. Sari Botton is lucky to have friends who shared their expertise and enthusiasm; a few more outings with these two and she'll shed that dated image of sexagenarian somnolesence.

No parting shot at EF, an accessible source of relaxed, discreet clothing. In EF, a woman is reassured that her outfit is not too much, that she looks more or less current. The clothes do not call attention to body shape; the size range is wide, the ethics sound; however, I have not bought it, because the clothes don't raise my pulse. (That would be ça va de soi.) 

Trudy Crane, artist and designer, age 63, in ça va de soi.

At any year in the Passage, we need that frisson, at least some of the time—and more so as we accept our shifting bodies with kindness and compassion.