Here, on the eve of my birthday, I am waxing thoughtful. There were years when piling another year on my sturdy frame was not a big deal. There is not a lot of difference between 35 and 36. Or 45 and 46. But between 65 and 66, there seems to be a huge chasm. All of a sudden, 70 looms much nearer. So some reflection is necessary. For instance, what to wear. Now this has always been a topic of great concern for me. I wore all the fashions when I was younger; circle skirts, knee socks with plaid skirts held together with huge brass safety pins, sack dresses, bell bottoms, the Tom Jones shirts. Anything the retailers dreamed up, I wore. In my netheryears, I have tended to be preppy. Lots of blazers, pleated slacks, white shirts, vests, little heels. I now want more than anything to be comfortable. I am not attracted to matchy-matchy Coldwater Creek kind of clothes, that are admittedly cut generously for meatier gals like me, and have a certain elan. Yet they also scream OLD. Every item has some little unnecessary geegaw attached or built in. Or the color is too prissy. If I had the $$$, I would buy all Eileen Fisher fashions. Her clothes are simple, cut to perfection to drape on the figure, in wonderful hues. I actually found one of her sweaters at the consignment store recently. It is hanging in my closet even as we speak. A treasure. Then I had this thought. I have a sewing machine! The clothes I want are only a bobbin away! And I have all this TIME! And the studio is all cleaned up, and there is a table and room for the ironing board! Ah, this sounds like a project about to explode all over the place.
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