A letter about dressing for yourself

At 68, I nearly wore heels to a seaside birthday lunch. My daughter asked who I was trying to impress.

There was a pair of beige heels sitting at the bottom of my wardrobe that I hadn't worn in nearly three years.

They were lovely shoes. A little buckle at the ankle, a neat heel, and the sort of colour that goes with almost everything.

They were also the shoes I used to take off under the table at weddings because I couldn't bear another minute in them.

And yet, when my friend Margaret invited me to her seventieth birthday lunch by the coast, those were the first shoes I reached for.

Not because I wanted to wear them.

Because somewhere in the back of my mind, I still believed that if you were going somewhere nice, you were supposed to wear proper shoes.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed, trying to remember whether the little ankle buckle had always been that awkward, when my daughter Kate walked in.

She looked at the shoes, looked at me, and said something that made me stop.

“Mum, why are you wearing those?”

I explained that it was Margaret's birthday and we were going somewhere lovely for lunch.

Kate waited.

“Yes,” she said. “But who are you trying to impress?”

I laughed and told her not to be ridiculous.

Then I sat there for another minute, holding one of those uncomfortable little heels, and realised I couldn't give her a proper answer.

I was 68 years old, getting ready to celebrate a friend's seventieth birthday, and I was still dressing according to rules nobody had actually asked me to follow.

I've thought about that afternoon quite a bit since.

Not because the shoes were particularly important. They weren't.

But because it made me wonder how many little things I'd been putting up with simply because I'd always assumed that was what looking presentable required.

I'm writing this because I suspect other women my age have a similar pair hiding somewhere in the wardrobe.

Beautiful to look at.

Absolutely dreadful to spend an afternoon in.

And still, for some reason, we keep them for special occasions.

How I learned that looking nice meant putting up with something

When I was younger, there were certain rules about getting dressed that everybody seemed to understand.

You wore good shoes to church. You wore your best dress to a wedding. And if you were going out for a nice lunch, you made an effort.

Making an effort usually involved shoes that were a little less comfortable than the ones you wore every day.

My mother had a pair she called her good shoes. They lived in a box at the top of her wardrobe and came out for birthdays, weddings and the occasional important appointment.

She always looked beautiful in them.

But I also remember her taking them off the moment we got home.

Somewhere along the way, I had begun doing exactly the same thing.

I'd buy a lovely pair of heels, wear them to something special, spend half the afternoon thinking about when I could take them off, and then put them back in the wardrobe until the next occasion.

They looked beautiful in the box.

That was where they spent most of their lives.

And I had never really questioned it.

It was just what you did when you wanted to look properly dressed.

The thing I had wrong about looking elegant

After Kate left the room that afternoon, I took a good look at the outfit I'd chosen.

It was a cream linen dress with a soft blue scarf. Nothing particularly fashionable. Just a dress I liked, in a length I felt comfortable wearing.

The dress was lovely.

So why did I suddenly feel that it needed a pair of shoes I didn't actually want to put on?

I tried on the old heels again.

Then I took them off.

And for the first time, I gave myself permission to question something I'd accepted for decades.

Perhaps looking elegant wasn't about how high your shoes were.

Perhaps it was about choosing things that looked right together and allowed you to enjoy the occasion.

I'd spent years believing a sensible pair of sandals couldn't possibly be appropriate for a nice restaurant.

But I was going to a relaxed birthday lunch by the coast, not a royal reception.

I didn't need another pair of formal shoes.

I needed to find a pair of everyday sandals that looked lovely with my dress.

The beige pair that caught my attention

I'd been browsing Perth Boutique a few days earlier because I wanted some new sandals for the warmer months.

Among the styles I looked at was a pair called Selina.

They came in several colours, but I found myself returning to the beige.

It's a lovely soft, sandy beige, with a warm tan footbed and a slightly darker sole.

Not stark white. Not a shiny cream.

Just the sort of neutral colour that looks at home beside linen, cotton and all the ordinary clothes I wear through a Perth spring and summer.

I liked the simple shape of them, too.

The broad straps have a neat stitched finish, with an open toe and a low sole that doesn't make the sandal look bulky.

And they didn't have the sort of little buckle I'd been struggling with on my old heels.

I could immediately imagine them with my cream trousers, my blue linen skirt and the cotton dresses I wear when it gets warmer.

And unlike the heels sitting at the bottom of my wardrobe, these looked like something I might actually wear on an ordinary Tuesday.

That was the part that interested me most.

I didn't want another pair of good shoes that only came out for birthdays.

I wanted something that could be part of my everyday wardrobe and still look appropriate when I made a little more effort.

What mattered more than the colour

The beige was what first caught my eye, but I've reached an age where I look at a sandal's fastening before I get too excited about how pretty it is.

I know my feet.

I know that the fit which seems fine first thing in the morning may need a little adjustment after I've been out for a while.

And I know I have very little patience left for tiny buckles that require me to bend over and struggle with them.

What interested me about the Selina was its two adjustable hook-and-loop straps.

One sits across the front of the foot, with another higher up.

That means the front and upper sections can be adjusted separately, rather than fastening everything according to a row of fixed buckle holes.

There's also a strap at the back of the heel, which I prefer to the completely backless sandals I used to wear.

The footbed has a gently shaped appearance, with an open toe and a low-profile sole.

Nothing complicated.

Just sensible details that made me think someone had considered how an everyday sandal ought to work.

I wasn't looking for a shoe that promised to solve every problem a person might have with their feet.

I was looking for something practical, adjustable and neat enough to wear with a lovely dress.

And the Selina appeared to offer exactly the combination I had in mind.

The birthday lunch I nearly spoiled for myself

Margaret had chosen a lovely place near the coast for her birthday.

We'd known each other for years. Long enough that we had seen each other's children grow up, become adults and begin families of their own.

Her seventieth was one of those occasions when you want to make a little effort, not because anybody expects you to, but because you're genuinely pleased to be there.

I'd chosen my cream dress, a small handbag and a light cardigan in case the sea breeze came up.

And this time, I left the old heels in their box.

I wore the beige Selinas.

When I looked in the mirror, the whole outfit seemed to work together.

The sandals weren't trying to be formal shoes.

They were simply a neat, understated pair that looked right with the dress.

And that was enough.

The restaurant had a pleasant outdoor area, with little tables arranged so that we could see the water.

There were flowers, a birthday cake and far too many photographs being taken.

Margaret looked beautiful.

We had a long lunch, laughed about things that happened twenty years ago, and listened to her grandchildren making speeches that were much sweeter than any of us had expected.

At one point, I glanced around the table.

There were women in flats, sandals, little wedges and everything in between.

Nobody was measuring anyone else's heel height.

Nobody seemed particularly interested in what the rest of us had on our feet.

We were there to celebrate Margaret.

And I wondered why I had spent so many years making such a simple thing unnecessarily difficult.

The walk afterwards

After lunch, a few of us decided to stay a little longer.

It was too lovely an afternoon to rush home.

We wandered towards the water, found somewhere pleasant to stand and spent another half hour talking about our gardens, our grandchildren and the sorts of things women who've known each other for decades tend to talk about.

I remember the light on the water and the breeze coming off the coast.

It was one of those afternoons when you feel very glad you made the effort to go.

The sort you think about later while you're washing the dishes.

And the thing I was particularly pleased about was that I hadn't spent the whole lunch waiting for an opportunity to slip my shoes off.

I could adjust the straps of the Selinas to suit my feet, and I liked that they were a practical everyday style rather than something I'd bought purely for appearances.

Of course, footwear fits everyone differently.

But for the sort of occasion I'd been invited to, I was happy I'd chosen a sensible sandal that looked right with my clothes.

When I got home, I put my handbag down, made a cup of tea and took the cardigan off.

Then I walked past my wardrobe and caught sight of the old heels still sitting in their box.

I actually laughed.

Imagine spending all those years thinking you needed shoes you couldn't wait to take off in order to look properly dressed.

I'm not saying heels are wrong.

If you love wearing them, good for you.

But I'd reached 68 and was still choosing them for somebody else's idea of what a nice outfit should look like.

That was what I wanted to change.

Three things I've learned about getting dressed after 65

One. Looking elegant has very little to do with heel height. A lovely dress, a neat pair of sandals and clothes that work together can look perfectly presentable. You don't have to wear something uncomfortable simply because the invitation says lunch somewhere nice.

Two. A neutral colour can be surprisingly useful. The beige Selina works beautifully with the cream, navy, pale blue and soft linen colours already in my wardrobe. I don't have to buy another outfit to justify wearing it.

Three. The best occasion shoes might be the ones you also wear on ordinary days. I've spent enough money over the years on shoes that only came out of their boxes twice. These days, I prefer choosing something I can see myself wearing regularly.

That third lesson has changed the way I shop more than anything else.

I no longer ask whether a pair of shoes looks special enough to keep for a special occasion.

I ask whether I like it enough to wear again next week.

What happened to the good shoes in the wardrobe

A few days after Margaret's birthday, I took the old heels out of their box.

I tried them on one last time.

They were still beautiful.

And I still didn't particularly want to wear them.

So I decided they could go to somebody who would enjoy them more than I did.

It was a surprisingly pleasant feeling.

Not because I was getting rid of something expensive, but because I was letting go of the idea that I needed to keep wearing it.

Meanwhile, the beige sandals had already become part of my ordinary wardrobe.

I wore them with jeans to go out for coffee, with light trousers to the shops and with a cotton dress on a warm Sunday afternoon.

The pale colour looked just as natural with casual clothes as it had with the dress I'd chosen for Margaret's birthday.

And that's what I had wanted all along.

Not a shoe for one particular afternoon.

A pair I could enjoy wearing as part of my ordinary life.

About the price

I want to be straightforward about this, because I always look carefully at prices before buying anything online.

The beige Selina sandals are currently listed at $64.99 AUD, with a displayed comparison price of $218.00.

That's a substantial advertised reduction, and I would always encourage you to look at the details rather than making your decision based on the discount alone.

Perth Boutique lists free Australian shipping and a 30-day money-back guarantee.

The sandals are available in AU sizes 3.5 through AU 9, with a foot-length guide in centimetres to help you choose.

I would check that size guide carefully, particularly if you sometimes fall between sizes.

The adjustable straps are a useful feature, but the length of the sandal still needs to be suitable for your foot.

What interested me was the combination of a soft beige colour, broad adjustable straps, a back heel strap and a simple low-profile design.

It's the sort of sandal that can make sense for everyday clothing without looking out of place when you want to dress a little more nicely.

And when you're being careful about what you spend, I think it's worth choosing things you can imagine wearing more than once.

What I would tell you if we were friends

If you and I were sitting in my kitchen with a pot of tea between us, and you told me you had a pair of lovely shoes that you kept for special occasions even though you didn't enjoy wearing them, I would understand completely.

I had a pair like that for years.

And I don't think there's anything particularly unusual about it.

Many of us grew up believing that making an effort meant putting up with something a little less practical than what we'd normally choose.

Perhaps that made sense to us once.

But I'm 68 now.

I've been to enough weddings, birthdays and family lunches to know that the things I remember afterwards are the people, the conversations and the lovely afternoons we spent together.

I don't remember which woman wore the highest heels.

I certainly don't want somebody remembering that I looked beautifully dressed but spent half the afternoon wishing I could take my shoes off.

If you're looking for a simple, neutral sandal with adjustable straps, the beige Selina is worth a closer look.

Look at the photographs, check the measurements and see whether the shape and fastening style would suit your own needs.

It won't be the right sandal for everybody.

But I like the idea of choosing something that looks lovely with a dress and still feels perfectly appropriate with the jeans I wear to the shops.

And I think we deserve to make those decisions for ourselves.

Not because we're trying to dress younger.

Not because we're trying to impress anyone.

But because, after all these years, we ought to know what we actually enjoy wearing.

At 68, I've stopped saving my nicest afternoons for shoes I can't wait to take off.

Maggie