Should a 90-year-old wear leggings?

By Natasha Josefowitz, Ph.D.

LA JOLLA, California — Have you been to a mall recently? There is a new uniform: skinny jeans or leggings with boots of various shapes and styles. It is really appealing.

I decided that I, too, wanted to look fashionable. I found some old, opaque tights—as they were called back in my earlier gym-going days—which still fit because they are stretchy. I splurged on a pair of tall, gray-suede boots on sale in a catalog and wore them with a long-sleeved tunic down to mid-thigh. I thought I looked absolutely smashing.

That is just the beginning of the story…

My daughter and her husband and son came to visit for a few days from Canada. I thought I would surprise them with how cool a grandmother can look. The feedback from my daughter was, “Mom, you’re going to be 90. You’re an old woman. Why do you want to dress like a teenager?”

“Oops!” I replied, “I thought I looked fashionable and contemporary.”

“No, Mom, you look inappropriately dressed for your age.”

I replied, “But my friends at White Sands think I look great.”

“Your friends are polite. No one else in your age group dresses this way.”

Well, she does have a point—I live in a retirement community, and we all wear vintage (or whatever still fits).

The story continues.

The next day, my daughter suggested we sort through my closet. I spent the morning trying on everything I own while my daughter made sartorial decisions about each item. It so happens that I lost some weight recently, so some of the clothes are a bit too large (much to my delight, mind you), but nonetheless wearable. Or so I thought. “No,” she said. “You look like a bag lady.” And so it went into the giveaway pile. Then there were all my pants that used to be fashionably wide; these were also discarded in favor of a few narrower ones.

I am not quite five feet tall. (I used to be five foot four.) Capris make me look shorter—so out they go. All my pants need shortening, so I have to wear them pulled up to my bra. Nothing can be belted because my waistline has disappeared. Anything short sleeved isn’t flattering to my upper arms—out with these, too. Obviously nothing too loose or too tight, covering my hips is a good thing, so is a high neck that covers that little piece of sagging skin under my chin.

The story still does not end there.

It turned out that most of my sweaters had spots that I could not see. These were all sent to the cleaners—if deemed redeemable—by that same daughter.

Thankfully, we ran out of time to cull my shoes and purses, or I would have ended up walking barefoot. My shoes are comfortable with a slightly shabby look; some of my purses are only half my age.

Weeding through one’s closet is not something one can do alone. It takes a daughter or a very good friend that has both a critical eye and an urge to tell it like it is—the unvarnished truth. Painful, yes; helpful, yes; happy, no! I am fond of my ill-fitting clothes; giving them away feels like a loss. They were hanging there, minding their own business, not hurting anyone, happily taking up space. Thinking that someone else might enjoy them now helps a little.

Finally, the end of the story: After she left, I surreptitiously—all the while feeling guilty—looked into the four, large donation bags and withdrew a favorite pair of black, baggy, really comfortable, pajama-like pants. I also kept one of my husband’s old sweaters—naturally too big on me, but one he particularly liked and looked good in—an old friend which conjures up lots of cherished memories. Note: I am not sending this column to my daughter and don’t any of you dare do so.

The question still remains: Can women my age wear leggings or are we relegated to some pre-conceived notion of what mature women are supposed to look like? Readers, please respond.

© Natasha Josefowitz. This article appeared initially in the La Jolla Village News. You may comment to natasha.josefowitz@sdjewishworld.com