An illustrated letter about dressing for yourself

At 68, I nearly returned a dress because the label said “mini.” My sister asked who had decided I was too old to wear it.

The dress had been lying on my bed for nearly forty minutes before I finally tried it on.

I'd opened the parcel, admired the colours, held it up in front of the mirror and then put it back down.

Not because there was anything wrong with it.

Quite the opposite.

It was lovely.

Black, cream and warm beige in big geometric blocks, with a high halter neckline and a loose, flowing shape.

The sort of simple, unusual design I would have bought without a second thought twenty years ago.

But there was one word on the product description that had been bothering me since I'd ordered it.

Mini.

At sixty-eight, I had somehow convinced myself that a dress described as a mini was something I wasn't allowed to wear anymore.

My sister Helen arrived that afternoon while I was still deciding whether to keep it.

She found me sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the dress in my lap.

"What's wrong with that?" she asked.

I told her nothing was wrong with it, but I thought it might be too short for somebody my age.

She looked at me for a moment.

Then she said something I've thought about ever since.

"Maggie, you're sixty-eight, not waiting for permission from the headmistress. If you like it, try it on."

I laughed.

But she was right.

I'd reached an age where nobody was telling me what I could or couldn't wear.

Yet somehow I'd created an entire list of rules for myself.

Too short.

Too sleeveless.

Too modern.

Too different from what a woman my age was supposed to choose.

And I hadn't stopped to ask whether any of those rules actually belonged to me.

I'm writing this because I suspect I'm not the only woman over sixty-five who has quietly stopped looking at certain styles.

Not because we dislike them.

But because we've convinced ourselves they belong to somebody younger.

And sometimes it's worth asking whether we're following a real preference or simply an old habit.

How I became so careful about what I wore

I used to enjoy clothes.

Not in an extravagant way. I wasn't somebody who bought a new outfit every weekend.

But I liked finding something a little different.

A pretty print, an unusual neckline, a colour combination that caught my eye.

Then came years of working, looking after children and getting everybody else organised.

Getting dressed became something practical.

And as I got older, my wardrobe slowly became more predictable.

Longer dresses.

Higher necklines.

Cardigans over everything.

Mostly navy, beige, white and black.

There was nothing wrong with any of those clothes.

Some of them are still my favourites.

But I'd begun buying things because they seemed appropriate rather than because I particularly loved them.

If a dress had no sleeves, I'd put it back.

If the hemline looked short, I wouldn't even try it.

If something had an unusual shape, I'd assume it wasn't meant for me.

And after enough years of making those decisions, I stopped looking at anything outside my usual little collection of styles.

I hadn't realised how narrow my choices had become.

Until the Sabrina arrived.

What I had wrong about dressing at 68

Helen sat down beside me and asked why I thought a short dress was automatically wrong.

I told her I'd reached an age where I preferred a little more coverage.

She said that was perfectly reasonable.

Then she asked whether that was actually how I felt about this particular dress.

And I had to admit something.

I hadn't tried it on yet.

I was making a decision about how it would look based entirely on the word mini.

Not the measurements.

Not the fabric.

Not the way it might fall on my figure.

Just the label.

She suggested I put it on and see what I thought.

If it was shorter than I liked, I could decide not to wear it.

If the halter neckline left me feeling too exposed, that was another perfectly good reason to choose something else.

But at least those would be my decisions.

Not some imaginary rule about what sixty-eight-year-old women are supposed to wear.

That seemed fair.

So I tried it on.

The dress is called the Sabrina

I'd found it while browsing Perth Boutique one evening.

The name is Sabrina Colorblock Halter Mini Dress.

The design caught my eye because it was unlike anything else in my wardrobe.

Large panels of black, warm beige and cream arranged in a geometric pattern, rather than a floral print or a completely plain colour.

The neckline is high and softly gathered, with the shoulders left uncovered in a halter style.

The body has a loose shift shape, falling away from the waist rather than fitting closely through the middle.

And there are pockets at the sides.

I have become rather fond of pockets in dresses.

At this age, I seem to spend half my life looking for my reading glasses.

The other thing that interested me was the material.

Perth Boutique describes it as a lightweight woven fabric made from 100% cotton.

That appealed to me for the warmer months.

I've lived through enough Perth summers to appreciate clothes that aren't unnecessarily heavy.

But what I liked most was how simple the overall design looked.

No complicated belt.

No fitted waistband.

No enormous decoration across the front.

Just an interesting colour combination and a relaxed shape.

I looked at it hanging beside my usual clothes and thought how different it was from the things I'd been choosing lately.

Perhaps that was why I liked it.

It reminded me of the woman who used to buy something because it caught her eye.

Before she started asking whether it was appropriate for her age.

What happened when I finally put it on

I will tell you the truth.

The Sabrina was shorter than the dresses I'd been wearing for the last few years.

It is a mini dress, after all.

And the halter neckline leaves the shoulders uncovered.

If you prefer sleeves or a hemline below the knee, that is worth knowing before you even consider it.

But when I looked in the mirror, I was surprised by how much I liked the overall shape.

The top gathered gently at the neckline, while the body fell loosely instead of fitting tightly around my tummy.

The black and cream blocks gave it an interesting appearance without requiring any other pattern or decoration.

And the pockets made me smile.

I tried it with flat sandals.

Then I put a light cardigan over my shoulders to see whether I liked having another option for cooler moments.

I wasn't trying to make the dress into something it wasn't.

It was still a short, sleeveless halter dress.

But I could decide whether I wanted to wear it with bare shoulders or bring a little extra layer along.

That felt much more sensible than ruling it out entirely before trying it on.

Helen came back into the bedroom and looked at me.

"Well?" she asked.

I told her I actually rather liked it.

She smiled.

"Then there's your answer."

Sometimes sisters make life sound terribly simple.

Occasionally, they're right.

The Saturday lunch I decided to wear it to

The following weekend, Helen and I had arranged a little afternoon lunch at my place.

Nothing particularly formal.

Just a few family members, something simple to eat and a chance to spend time together before the weather became too hot.

It was a lovely spring afternoon.

Sunshine coming through the kitchen window, the back door open and a little breeze moving through the house.

I'd spent the morning getting the table ready.

There were flowers in a vase, fresh bread on the kitchen bench and more food than anybody was likely to eat.

Ordinarily, I would have worn my usual linen trousers and a plain top.

But I had the Sabrina hanging by the wardrobe.

And I decided that if I was going to try wearing something different, my own family lunch was as good a place as any.

I put it on with flat sandals and simple earrings.

I had a lightweight cardigan nearby in case I wanted something over my shoulders.

And that was that.

I didn't spend twenty minutes wondering whether the colours matched.

The black, beige and cream were already part of the same design.

I didn't need a necklace because the halter neckline was interesting enough on its own.

And I didn't need anything particularly elaborate to make the outfit feel complete.

When Helen arrived, she noticed the dress immediately.

"You kept it!" she said.

I told her I had.

She looked rather pleased with herself.

My daughter Kate asked where I'd found it, and I told her Perth Boutique.

Then the conversation moved on to what everybody wanted to drink and whether anyone had remembered to bring the salad.

And that's what struck me.

I'd spent so much time worrying about whether somebody would think a short dress was inappropriate for my age.

But nobody was particularly interested in judging what I had on.

We were having lunch.

That was all.

What I noticed more than the compliments

At some point in the afternoon, we moved outside.

The sun had shifted around the garden, and the veranda was a lovely place to sit.

Helen was telling a story about something that had happened to her neighbour, and Kate was trying not to laugh with a mouthful of tea.

I remember sitting there thinking how pleasant the whole afternoon was.

Not because everybody had admired my dress.

Not because I suddenly looked younger.

But because I'd done something I hadn't expected myself to do.

I'd chosen a dress I liked.

I'd considered whether the length and neckline worked for me.

And then I'd worn it without spending the entire day wondering whether I was too old.

It sounds such a small thing.

But when you've spent years narrowing your wardrobe according to rules you've made up yourself, those small decisions can feel rather satisfying.

I wasn't trying to make a point to anyone.

I simply wanted to enjoy something that appealed to me.

And that afternoon, I did.

Why the colour combination worked for me

The more I looked at the Sabrina, the more I appreciated the colours.

Black is something I've worn for years.

Beige and cream are already in my wardrobe too.

Individually, they're hardly adventurous shades.

But putting them together in large geometric blocks gives the dress a completely different appearance.

It's more interesting than a plain black dress without being particularly loud.

And because the colours are all neutrals, I don't feel obliged to buy matching accessories.

My ordinary sandals work with it.

A cream cardigan looks fine if I want an extra layer.

And I can use the same simple handbag I carry most days.

That is the sort of thing I appreciate now.

At sixty-eight, I'm not interested in building an entirely new wardrobe around one dress.

I'd much rather find something that looks different while still working with the things I already own.

I've always believed that a good piece of clothing should be something you genuinely enjoy wearing.

Not something you have to convince yourself to like because it was fashionable or expensive.

And not something you avoid simply because you think it belongs to a different age group.

Three things I've learned about style after 65

One. A clothing label doesn't know your age, your figure or your preferences. The word mini tells you something about the style and length. It doesn't tell you whether you personally will feel comfortable wearing it. That's something you have to decide for yourself.

Two. A relaxed shape doesn't have to look shapeless. The Sabrina has a softly gathered halter neckline and a loose shift body, while the colour blocks give the dress a strong visual structure. I like that it has an interesting design without needing a fitted waistband.

Three. You don't have to stop experimenting with clothes simply because you're older. Some styles won't suit your preferences, and that's perfectly fine. But there's no reason to dismiss everything unusual before you've even considered whether you like it.

That third one took me the longest to learn.

I'd spent years treating my wardrobe as though it needed to become less interesting with every birthday.

And I don't really know why.

I still like the same colours.

I still enjoy an unusual design.

And I still appreciate a dress that makes me smile when I see it hanging in the wardrobe.

Those things haven't disappeared just because I'm sixty-eight.

About the price

I want to be straightforward about the price because it's something I always check before ordering anything online.

Perth Boutique currently lists the Sabrina Colorblock Halter Mini Dress at $99.95 AUD, with a displayed comparison price of $200.00.

That's an advertised saving of approximately fifty per cent.

A substantial reduction, and I would always recommend looking carefully at the actual product rather than buying something simply because it is on sale.

The store describes the Sabrina as being made from 100% cotton, with a lightweight woven construction.

It features a softly gathered halter neckline, a relaxed shift silhouette and hidden side pockets.

It comes in sizes XS through 2XL.

I'd particularly recommend checking the length measurements before choosing.

It is genuinely a mini dress, not a midi-length style.

And if you prefer covered shoulders or a dress that sits below your knees, there may be other styles in the collection that suit you better.

That's worth being clear about.

I've reached an age where I don't believe in buying something and then hoping I'll somehow become comfortable with a design I didn't actually want.

But if you like shorter dresses, an open-shoulder halter neckline and a loose, easy shape, the Sabrina is worth a closer look.

Perth Boutique lists free home delivery within Australia.

I'd also check the store's current returns policy before purchasing, as I would with any online clothing order.

For me, the appeal was the unusual colour-block design, the natural-fibre material and the relaxed cut.

Most importantly, it was a dress I genuinely liked.

And that was reason enough to consider it.

What I would tell you if we were friends

If you and I were sitting out the back with a cup of tea and you told me you'd seen a dress you loved but thought you were too old to wear it, I would understand completely.

I've been doing that for years.

Looking at lovely things, then talking myself out of them before I'd even tried them on.

Too short.

Too modern.

Too sleeveless.

Too different from what I normally wear.

And after a while, I stopped looking at anything that wasn't a variation of the clothes I already owned.

But I don't think getting older has to mean becoming less interested in style.

We can still love beautiful colours.

We can still appreciate an unusual cut.

And we can still make thoughtful decisions about what works for our own figures and preferences.

That doesn't mean every sixty-eight-year-old woman should wear a mini dress.

Of course not.

If you feel happiest in something that covers your knees and shoulders, that's exactly what you should choose.

But if you see something different and genuinely want to try it, there's no reason to let somebody else's idea of age-appropriate clothing make the decision for you.

The Sabrina is worth looking at if you like bold neutral colours, a halter neckline and a relaxed short dress.

Have a look at the photographs, check the measurements and decide whether it's the kind of thing you'd actually enjoy wearing.

Not because you're trying to look twenty-five.

And not because you're trying to prove anything to anyone.

Simply because you like it.

That's what I've decided matters most.

At sixty-eight, I've spent enough of my life worrying about what other people might think.

I'd rather wear something that feels like my own choice.

And if my sister Helen has to remind me of that occasionally, I suspect she'll be only too happy to do it.

I haven't become younger. I haven't changed my age. I've simply stopped letting a number on a birthday card decide which dresses I'm allowed to consider.

Maggie