An illustrated letter about finding your own style again

At 68, I found a photograph of myself in blue sandals from thirty years ago. My daughter asked why I'd stopped wearing anything like them.

Last Sunday I was sorting through an old box of photographs when I found one of myself taken on a family holiday about thirty years ago.

I was standing beside the water, wearing white linen trousers, a striped top and a pair of beautiful blue sandals.

My hair was darker then, of course. I was thinner around the middle, and I had the sort of confidence that comes from being too busy with young children to worry about what anybody thinks.

But what caught my attention wasn't how much younger I looked.

It was the sandals.

Lovely little blue sandals with pretty straps, the sort of thing I used to buy simply because I liked them.

My daughter Kate was sitting beside me when she saw the photograph.

She laughed and said she remembered those shoes.

Apparently I'd worn them practically everywhere that summer.

Then she looked down at the plain black shoes sitting beside my chair and asked me something I hadn't considered before.

"Mum, why don't you wear pretty sandals like that anymore?"

I told her I was sixty-eight now and my priorities had changed.

She looked at me for a moment.

"But you still like pretty things, don't you?"

Of course I did.

And that was the uncomfortable part.

I hadn't stopped liking beautiful sandals. I'd simply started believing that a woman my age ought to choose something more sensible.

I went back to that photograph several times over the next few days.

Not because I wanted to look thirty-eight again.

Goodness knows I have no desire to relive the school runs, the mountains of washing and the endless arguments about bedtime.

But I did wonder when I'd decided that getting older meant everything I wore had to be plain.

I'm writing this because I suspect there are other women over sixty-five who know exactly what I mean.

We spend years being sensible.

We choose practical colours, practical clothes and shoes that won't attract attention.

And somewhere along the way, we forget that we're still allowed to like something simply because it is lovely.

How I became the woman who only bought sensible shoes

When I was younger, I had a weakness for sandals.

Not expensive ones, necessarily.

Just pretty little pairs that went with summer dresses, linen trousers and the sort of clothes I wore when the weather warmed up.

I had blue ones, red ones, a pair with tiny gold buckles and one rather ridiculous pair with embroidered flowers that my sister Helen still mentions whenever she wants to make me laugh.

I enjoyed choosing them.

Then, somewhere through my fifties and sixties, I stopped.

I began buying the same sort of footwear every year.

Black flats for everyday wear.

Beige sandals because they went with everything.

And a pair of proper shoes for occasions when I wanted to look a little smarter.

There was nothing wrong with any of them.

But there was very little about them that made me particularly happy to put them on.

They were simply practical.

And because they were practical, I kept buying more or less the same thing.

I didn't really notice that I'd stopped enjoying choosing shoes.

Until Kate pointed it out.

What I had wrong about being sensible after 65

I think there's a point in life when we begin treating every clothing purchase as a practical problem to solve.

Will it go with everything?

Will it be suitable for the shops?

Will it look too young?

Will anybody think I'm trying too hard?

I had become rather good at asking those questions.

But I hardly ever asked the simplest one.

Do I actually like it?

And I realised that perhaps I'd been making being sensible much more restrictive than it needed to be.

There is no reason a practical pair of sandals has to be boring.

And there is no reason a pretty pair has to have an enormous heel, narrow straps or complicated decorations.

What I really wanted was something in the middle.

A simple, low sandal with a little elegance.

Something that looked nice with my ordinary clothes and felt appropriate for the sort of outings I enjoy now.

And perhaps a little colour.

Because I had worn enough black shoes to last several lifetimes.

The blue sandals that reminded me of that photograph

A few evenings later, I was browsing the Elegant Sandals collection at Perth Boutique.

There were several styles, including lovely vintage-inspired designs and simple everyday sandals.

Then I saw a pair in a beautiful metallic blue.

Not a dark navy.

Not a bright electric blue.

A soft, slightly shimmering blue, rather like the colour of water when the sun catches it on a clear afternoon.

The straps had an unusual shape that I liked immediately.

A narrow band across the toes, then a curved section that rose through the middle of the foot, leaving a little open space on either side.

There was a fastening around the ankle and a simple tan-coloured footbed with a low sole.

Nothing towering.

Nothing that looked like it required a special occasion.

Just a pretty, open sandal that had a little more character than the plain ones I'd been buying for years.

I went back to the photograph of myself from thirty years ago.

The sandals weren't exactly the same.

But they reminded me of the sort of thing I would have chosen back then.

And I liked that.

I looked at the other styles in the collection too.

There were neutral colours, different strap designs and more traditional styles.

But I kept returning to that lovely blue.

And eventually I thought, why not?

I'm sixty-eight, not forbidden from enjoying a pretty pair of sandals.

The small details I liked

At this age, I have become more particular about the details of my shoes.

I still love a pretty design.

But I don't want something I have to rearrange every few minutes when I'm out.

The first thing I noticed about these sandals was the low, flat-looking sole.

I've never particularly enjoyed high heels, and I certainly don't want to start wearing them regularly now.

I also liked the strap around the back of the heel.

I tend to prefer sandals with a fastening rather than the completely backless ones that can feel as though they're slipping away from you.

Then there was the open shape.

The front strap was simple, while the curved section through the middle gave the shoe a little elegance without covering the whole foot.

It looked light and summery.

And the blue wasn't so bold that I'd need to buy an entire new outfit to wear with it.

Those were the things I appreciated.

Not because I expected a pair of sandals to solve every footwear problem.

They wouldn't.

But because I was looking for something that balanced a nice appearance with everyday practicality.

And these were exactly the kind of sandals I wanted to consider.

The afternoon I wore blue sandals again

The first outing was lunch with Kate.

We were meeting at a little place near the coast, one of those casual restaurants where you can sit outside if the weather is pleasant.

It was a lovely Perth spring morning.

I decided to wear my white cotton dress, the one with the little embroidered edge that I've owned for years.

Ordinarily, I would have reached automatically for beige sandals.

But this time I chose the blue.

I remember looking down after getting dressed and thinking how much nicer the whole outfit looked with that small bit of colour.

It wasn't an enormous statement.

Just a little something different.

The soft blue looked lovely against the white fabric, and the tan sole gave the shoes a relaxed appearance.

It was the sort of combination I might have chosen thirty years ago without thinking twice.

And suddenly I wondered why I'd spent so long talking myself out of it.

Kate noticed the shoes when I got out of the car.

"Mum, those are lovely."

I told her she'd been responsible.

She asked what I meant.

I reminded her about the old holiday photograph and the conversation we'd had.

She laughed.

"Well, I'm glad you finally bought something you actually liked."

We had a long lunch, watched people walking past and talked about what the grandchildren were doing during the school holidays.

Nothing particularly exciting.

But it was lovely.

And I found myself looking forward to wearing the sandals again.

That was something I hadn't felt about a new pair of shoes for quite a while.

What happened when I wore them with something else

A few days later, my sister Helen invited me to spend an afternoon with her.

We were going to browse a few little shops and have coffee somewhere afterwards.

I chose a soft blue-and-white floral dress that I've had for years.

It's one of those things I bought because I loved the fabric but hardly ever wore because I couldn't decide which shoes looked right with it.

And then I remembered the blue sandals.

I tried them together.

The colours worked beautifully.

The dress had little blue flowers scattered across the fabric, and the sandals picked up almost exactly the sort of soft colour I liked.

Nothing looked too matched.

Nothing looked as though I'd spent hours planning it.

Just a pleasant, summery outfit.

Helen noticed them as soon as we met.

She has always been rather more adventurous with clothes than I am.

She wears colours I wouldn't dream of buying and somehow makes everything look perfectly natural.

So when she asked where the sandals were from, I was quite pleased.

I told her I'd found them while looking through Perth Boutique's Elegant Sandals collection.

She said she liked the blue.

And then, because she is my sister, she asked whether I'd finally stopped buying everything in black.

I told her not to get carried away.

I still have a perfectly good pair of black shoes at home.

But perhaps she had a point.

It was rather nice to wear something that reminded me how much I'd once enjoyed choosing clothes.

Why I hadn't realised how much I'd changed

Something about those two afternoons stayed with me.

Not because the sandals were particularly important in themselves.

They were simply shoes.

But they reminded me how many little decisions I'd been making based on what I thought a woman my age ought to wear.

I'd stopped buying brighter colours.

I'd stopped looking at pretty sandals.

I'd stopped trying on things I liked if I thought they might be too youthful.

And after a while, my wardrobe had become a collection of things that were perfectly practical but didn't feel entirely like me.

There is a difference between choosing sensible clothes because you genuinely like them and choosing them because you're afraid of looking foolish in anything else.

I hadn't really understood that until Kate found the old photograph.

At sixty-eight, I don't want to spend my time trying to dress as though I'm thirty-eight.

But I don't particularly want to disappear into an endless collection of beige and black either.

There is a lovely middle ground.

And I think that's where I'd like to be.

Three things I've learned about footwear after 65

One. A pretty sandal doesn't have to mean a high heel. I used to think elegant shoes were the ones I would only wear for special occasions. These days I appreciate a low sole, a simple design and straps that look lovely with everyday clothes.

Two. A little colour can change an entire outfit. White trousers, a blue floral dress or a plain linen skirt can look quite different with a soft metallic blue sandal instead of the neutral pair you've worn for years. Sometimes that's all the interest an outfit needs.

Three. Getting older doesn't mean giving up your own taste. I still like many of the same colours and styles I loved thirty years ago. I don't need to wear them in exactly the same way, but there's no reason I can't enjoy a little of that feeling again.

That last one is the lesson I've been thinking about most.

I don't want to look younger.

I want to feel comfortable being the woman I am now, while still wearing things that make me happy.

It seems such a sensible idea when you put it like that.

Perhaps I should have worked it out sooner.

The sandals that reminded me of a holiday

A couple of weeks later, I had another look at the old photograph.

I was standing beside the water, laughing at something outside the frame.

I had a woven bag on my shoulder, white trousers and those old blue sandals.

The photograph wasn't particularly beautiful.

Somebody had cut off the top of my head, and the light was so bright that half of us were squinting.

But I looked happy.

And I remembered that holiday.

The children were little, the car was full of towels and sandwiches, and we spent most of the afternoon trying to keep everybody out of the sun.

It was lovely, in the chaotic way family holidays usually are.

What stayed with me wasn't the younger version of myself.

It was the woman who put on blue sandals because she liked them, without spending half an hour deciding whether somebody might think they were inappropriate.

I'd rather like to be a little more like her again.

About the price

I want to mention the prices because it's something I always look at carefully before buying shoes online.

Perth Boutique's Elegant Sandals collection currently includes several styles advertised from $79.95 AUD, with other styles listed at $84.95 AUD.

Individual prices and comparison prices vary depending on the sandal.

The collection includes vintage-inspired designs, flat sandals, woven styles and more decorative options.

That's worth remembering because not every pair will have the same heel height, fastening or fit.

I would always look at the specific style you like rather than assuming every sandal in a collection is built the same way.

Pay particular attention to the size chart and the way the straps fasten.

Even a low sandal needs to fit properly, and something that suits one woman's foot may not suit another.

Perth Boutique also advertises free Australian delivery.

I'd check the individual product page for its current price, size availability and return terms before ordering.

For me, the appeal of the Elegant Sandals collection is having a choice of pretty styles that don't all look like formal occasion shoes.

There are different colours and different shapes, so it's worth spending a little time finding something that actually suits the clothes you wear.

And I think the most important thing is choosing a pair because you genuinely like it.

Not merely because it seems like the safest option.

What I would tell you if we were friends

If you and I were sitting outside with a cup of tea and you told me you hadn't bought a pretty pair of sandals in years because you thought they were for younger women, I'd understand completely.

I'd been doing much the same thing.

Choosing black because it went with everything.

Choosing beige because it was safe.

Walking past colours and styles I genuinely liked because I wasn't quite sure I was allowed to wear them anymore.

And all the while, I still had that old photograph of myself in a pair of blue sandals.

The photograph didn't remind me that I needed to look younger.

It reminded me that I'd once enjoyed choosing things simply because they made me smile.

That is something I would rather not lose.

If you're looking for a pretty, low-profile sandal for the warmer months, Perth Boutique's Elegant Sandals collection is worth looking through.

There are different designs, colours and prices, so you can take your time and see which ones appeal to you.

Look at the photographs, check the measurements and decide whether the style is appropriate for the places you actually go.

Not every sandal will be right for every woman.

And nobody needs to buy a new pair of shoes simply because somebody else likes them.

But if you find yourself coming back to a colour or a shape because you think it's lovely, perhaps that's worth paying attention to.

We're allowed to enjoy pretty things at sixty-five, seventy and beyond.

We don't need to dress as though we're twenty-five.

And we don't need to pretend that growing older means we're no longer interested in looking nice.

We can simply wear things that suit us.

Things that work with our wardrobes.

Things that feel appropriate for the life we're living now.

And things that make us smile a little when we put them on.

After all, the woman in that old photograph is still me.

I've just had thirty more years of living since it was taken.

At 68, I've decided that being sensible doesn't mean giving up the things I love. Sometimes a pretty pair of blue sandals is simply a pretty pair of blue sandals.

Maggie