aging disgracefully

As I was walking home the other day from my usual poodling in town, a thought struck me: just how grateful I am to be at the age where I could, potentially wear absolutely anything, and again, potentially get away with it. Which ponders the question, how much time do I have left of bum hugging 'aeroplane' skirts (so short you can see the cockpit) leopard print tights, brightly coloured jumpers and mad leggings before it becomes horrendously trashy? (I am aware that that list already sounds horrendously trashy.)

I can't remember where I heard/read this, but recently someone somewhere remarked that by age 25 she couldn't possibly wear a mini skirt, which sounds scarily young to be banishing the pins away for ever more! That’s only four years! Only four years of sexy sexy small skirts! Now I imagine transforming into some sort of Bet Lynch, Zandra Rhodes hybrid, and I must say I am genuinely a-okay with this predicament. I like seeing old, wrinkled ladies with brightly coloured hair and miss-matching clothes and I do, absurdly like to think 'Ooh that's what I’ll look like when I’m old!'

I can't imagine having to limit my clothing to only the garments deemed 'suitable' for my age, not that I wear absolutely everything now, there are certain things I just can't get away with (bodycon being the main offender). Perhaps once I am older I won't want to wear all the things I wear now, but I hope that's not the case. To be honest, I rather enjoy mutton dressed as lamb, so long as we're not delving into the realms of obscenity.

Until anon x