Spring Cleaning is Different at 48

This time, my seasonal ritual had new revelations.

I see you, 50. And we’re good. I like what’s happening in my career. A lot. I like my husband. Same with my teenage son. I’m more comfortable than I’ve ever been with the way I look. Aside from wondering how high the magnification level goes on readers, for the most part I’m comfortable about the lurking big 50.

Or I was, until my annual spring cleaning ritual. Every year around this time I hit the closet for “the big move.” The wintry (wool, tights, tweed, furry, heavy) gets moved to the out-of-season section. And the lighter pieces come out to play.

At the same time, I ask myself a lot of questions. Like why do I have 16 pairs of black pants? (Answer: because they solve many of life’s problems.) Does it still fit? Need a tailor? Have a spot? But on a (slightly) more deeper level … is it on brand?

Of course I say “on brand” because I’m in the branding business. It’s something I feel clients should ask too. Clothes for me are fun, absolutely, but they’re also part of my brand as a business owner. That is — who am I presenting to the world as a founder/partner of Honor Code Creative? (It’s something I think every business leader should do as part of their overall branding efforts, and it’s why we offer Personal Brand Styling at Honor Code even though it’s not a traditional agency competency.) I’m also asking: Who do I want to be?

Probably because I started this business in part to better align what I do with who I really am, the two questions are synced. It’s not like when I was a lawyer and had to suit up for a big show for clients until I could be me at home and on the weekends.

These days the me I want to show the world is the way I genuinely feel: straightforward, true, someone with her act together, who knows how to have a little fun and not take herself too seriously. Comfortable and competent without the need to try too hard. (Ahem, 20-something self.) Finally, because I have a lot of fashion/consumer clients, I need to look somewhat “fashion.” Like I know what’s up and at the very least can watch a show on a laptop.

But what I found is that the process of turning the closet dial to represent this self is different with 50 approaching in ways I haven’t experienced before. Here’s what I mean:

1. The things I could once wear ironically with jeans (like a traditional Chanel jacket), are too “on the nose” to be ironic anymore! Boom. 48 was the moment these pieces entered the realm of “things people my age are actually wearing at a country club” and no amount of denim can cool them up now.
2. Also, my latent sometimes-penchant for prep no longer looks like a play on prep. It looks super Pollyanna and sorority-girl wanna be, like the costume of someone trying to be an extra in the next Legally Blond. Out go the bright stripes. Thom Browne, I love you but I am proceeding with caution.
3. Anything that feels like a trend goes. The frayed denim skirt I wore in Maine just last year looks really desperate to me now. Same with skinny jeans. I am looking in the mirror and saying, “Oh jeez. Woman up, already!”
4. And anything that feels like pre-school. Speaking of womaning up … The ice cream colors. The cute patterns (yes, even the Prada race cars). Anything cut in a way that could be viewed as “babydoll.” (The word says it all.)
5. Anything even a little uncomfortable. The suffer-for-fashion-days are officially over. Teetering and itching are not my idea of a good time and shoving myself into something, even a little, somehow seems sadder at 48. Like really, person-in-the-mirror, aren’t we over this?
6. Anything designed by a man for a man’s vision of women. G-d I miss you, Phoebe Philo. The loss of Phobe’s Celine and replacement with Hedi Silmane’s gets at another place I just won’t go. I don’t think men can’t design for women. But I’m not buying men designing clothes and shoes for women that are all sexed up. Short plungey dresses, clingy fabrics, 6-inch heels — none of this appeals to me at 48. All of it makes me feel part of a gaze I don’t associate with artful dressing and have no interest in.
7. And I’ve found that I abhor things that come anywhere close to figure-hugging slash showing off. While I remember well the era of “I work hard for this and I shouldn’t hide it,” at 48 I want to be seen as what I am: a business woman and mother of a teen who is comfortable where she is. Not Regina George’s mom. That’s a good filter. Nothing Regina George’s mom would wear stays in my closet.

So what’s in?

1. White shirts. Maybe it sounds obvious, and I hate cleaning them, but somehow a crisp white shirt is always right, on or off duty. I love the soft, loose, totally plain ones by Acne Studios. Hang them in the shower if they wrinkle to get more milage.

2. One + dones. I like items that do it all. Like this Phillip Lim dress that’s a shirt and dress and belt all combined. Feels good, flattering, and it’s just so easy. Out the door in 17 minutes, all in.

3. Clothes that fit. No tugging. No pulling. None of those lines that come from fabric stretching across something. Fit has replaced “fitted” for me.

4. Mannish elements. Maybe that’s not quite the right word, but as I pull away from what feels “little girl” I’m drawn to what might have been traditional male suiting. Like a blue Acne shirt dress that could almost be a man’s dress shirt.

5. Wide leg denim. My new favorite version of jeans is wide like a trouser. No rips, no weathering, no gimmicks. They cost more, but you’ll need fewer pairs.

6. Softer statements. Instead of the big look-at-me moments, I like quieter, but still sculptural things, like the linen pants and super oversized belt from Phobe Philo’s last ad campaign that I chased down on eBay + Real Real and can’t wait to wear.

7. Bad-ass kitten heels. I love the comfort and polish of a kitten heel, but they can veer into tweedy “lady” territory. I’m now drawn to versions that feel a little punk-cool, like this one, which I got on sale and just wore to a client meeting.

There was definitely something jarring about realizing instantly in the closet that things I’ve gravitated to for a long time suddenly look off. And for sure, there are definitely some jarring things about hitting my half century mark. For some I know it’s this relief of “not having to try anymore.” That won’t be me. But instead it feels like the shift from trying to prove something, to trying to be my chicest, but still most authentic self. And that feels like a more worthwhile use of my efforts.