How I Spent My Summer

I'll spend my summer as I always do: looking for summer clothes that don't make me look like a 12-year-old or an 80-year-old.
(And my apologies to chic 80-year-olds out there but you know what I mean.)

This year, in fact, I have to add a third category to the "clothing I don't want on my body this summer" list: early 70's knockoffs. Been there, done that--braless, in fact--don't want to do it again, with or without my Bali minimizer. I walked past a Michael Kors white gauze peasant blouse the other day in Macy's, turned to my husband and said, "I owned that." Really. Kors should be ashamed that he stole it from me. It's not like I want to relive that memory, either. I was wearing it the day my Shakespeare professor kissed me--not in a fatherly way. If I want to relive any era with my clothing then I should be wearing what I wore when I was 3--talk about the good years!

As much as I'm relieved after a long, no, make that endless, Wisconsin winter to see leaves and listen to twittering (in the old-fashioned sense) sparrows, I hate trying to dress. Winter is easy: Jeans, boots, and a sweater and you're good to go, regardless of age, weight, or gender, for that matter. Come Summer and I'm stumped as well as stumpy. Do I wear gauzy, empire waist tees and white denim low-rise shorts because that's 90% of what I see hanging in stores? Oh, please. I'm 55, gaining so rapidly on 56 I'm afraid I'll overtake it and go right for 57. As pale as my skin is, no one really wants me blinding them with my ivory gams. And the adorable--and I don't mean that kindly--sleeveless empires out there manage to address in one tiny piece of fabric most of my upper body faults. Empire waists--fine if you have no boobs. If you do, you'll look pregnant and I don't want to end being mistaken for a late-life reproducer. Sleeveless? Well, if you're a woman my age, I probably don't have to tell you that triceps are one of the first things to go. In fact, it happens overnight. One day, you hold your arm up to shave and look fine; the next day you have to tie the loose skin out of the way first.

And other options? Can we still refer to certain styles as caftans and muu-muus? Because I'm seeing them out there. The thinking (do the people who design those think?) behind them seems to be that you'll feel like a Saudi Prince--they will hide all your bulges while letting cool breezes flow around you all the while protecting you from those nasty UV rays. Well, remember, the last person who looked really good in a caftan was Peter O'Toole in Lawrence of Arabia. And, honey, you and I aren't Peter O'Toole (in fact, one danger is we might look too much like him dressed like that). There are other loose, drapey, more discreet styles out there, of course, but--and I'm about to get myself in real trouble with fans of Eileen Fisher--most of those aren't that much more attractive unless you are 5'9" or above and thin and willowy. Let's see, I'm 5'2 3/4" and shrinking. And willowy? No, more Baobab-y.

Do I have an answer? No, which is why I'll spend the whole summer looking. But I've made a few decisions. I'll try to work out so that at least the flab is a bit tauter here and there. And I'll care less about how cool I look and more about how cool I feel. That means, I will wear shorts--but not low-rise white denim (OK, confession, I actually do have a pair; I just don't wear them in public)--and tank tops, simple cotton ones with no unnecessary seams, no cute sayings on them, and no ruffly necklines. Is this a sign of maturity, that I'm finally coming to terms with myself and my image? . . .Nah. It's hot flashes.