UNFORSEEN CIRCUMSTANCES

 So, there is a problem with writing a weekly blog when you’re over eighty years old. Worn out parts or new viruses, illness of different sorts unexpectedly come into play and writing a blog is the last thing on your mind. The good news? We bounce back! And produce a new blog. Eventually.

That would be me.

An old friend recently complained about depression, tired of being prodded and poked. I can relate. Most of us can relate. But that is the price we pay for keeping on, for living our lives every day. To be present and to live to the fullest extent possible.

Not long ago, I fell into a patch of depression. Positive, optimistic, me. I floundered for a while. But Instead of going on an online, full-out shopping spree, (my usual go-to) I adopted a dog. A dog, well almost any animal, requires a certain amount of care, enough to take you out of yourself and better yet, out of depression. In return you receive unconditional love. What could be better?

(With my dog, I no longer have outrageous bills for an ill-timed shopping spree. A really awesome benefit.)

I also took classes and learned new things (also jogging the brain helps keep all that gray mass engaged). I joined a woman’s group which I have never done before, I am a lifelong anti-joiner. Forced committees at work gave me chills. And yet, here I am a member of group that goes places and does things.

Better than anything to cure depression…seek the counsel of a health care professional. Depression in our advanced years is not a new phenomenon. Life has changed, we have lost loved ones, and we are physically unable to do the things we used to - our last great party was twenty-two years ago.

I’ll miss writing a blog every now and then, but there are previous blogs available to read. I can’t stress about what I’m unable to do for the moment. Friends will always understand.

I have a tee-shirt that says it, and I’m always delighted to repeat the lyrics of one of the 1970’s great music hits…’c’om get happy!

 

 

 

SPRING FASHIONS

 The spring fashion shows are in full swing. The designers and models are showing us what we women will be wearing in the coming season. Well, maybe not all of us. Writers have a different fashion sense. I am currently working in sweatpants and a comfortable pajama top. Nonetheless.

I love fashion. I love everything about it, colors, fabrics, texture, minis and maxis.  And I always have. I love the magazines, the icons like Chanel and the late Iris Apfel. I watch awards programs just to see what the celebrities are wearing.

Fashion might have been my career. But mother happened. I’m not certain whether she told me…long after the fact…or my grandmother but the story goes that my aunt, a sophisticated buyer and later board member of one of New York City’s most prestigious retail companies wrote to my mother requesting that after graduation (university) I come to New York and work as her assistant protégé. She wrote to my mother instead of me as a courtesy. My mother apparently did not take well to the invitation and what promised a better life for me.

I would have begged for such an opportunity!

But my mother saw things differently. I would focus on this fashion career; perhaps neglect getting married and giving her grandchildren. Or. My mother had always been a bit jealous of my aunt’s glamorous life and finances that my mother could not have, had not. She was a typical fifties’ housewife who experienced little glamour. Read - none.

My mother was right in that I did take up a career that I enjoyed and that I focused on for many years. It could have been fashion, but instead it was broadcasting beginning with rock ‘n roll radio.

They say everything old is new again. And that seems true. Many times in the last few years I’ve said to myself, “You should have saved that mini- skirt.”  But really?

The mini-skirts are different today. They are exceedingly mini. And the legs I used to flaunt in my mini-skirts are not quite the same either. They are best covered in tights. My body has shifted and changed. I look for excellent engineering in my wardrobe now. I no longer fit in the smaller sizes of dresses or pants. The ship of hot pants sailed years ago.

Figuring out an age-appropriate wardrobe is a skill. That I’m working on to this day. Clothes do not make the woman…however; they can make a woman very happy. When you look your best, it’s difficult not to feel your best.

My friend Glory says in striving for an age-appropriate wardrobe you can’t go wrong with classic styles, they will always be age-appropriate. 

But also a bit boring?