There’s a certain age of woman (and a certain financial status) who buys Eileen Fisher clothes. She is older, in her 40s. More demure. Some circles she’s tried to hide with concealer under her eyes. When I worked at a small boutique in San Francisco in my 20′s, I’d wonder about this kind of woman who would choose sack-like clothes over clothes that emphasized her waist. When I balked on buying trips as the owner and I approached the Eileen Fisher booth, the store owner would explain that “Not everyone wants to show off their figure. Some people just want to wear something comfortable.”

I understood the concept of sweatpants of course–-but on a daily basis? And in cashmere? I couldn’t relate. (I couldn’t afford it either. Not that I can now.)

Eileen Fisher is known for her drapy, boxy, shapeless clothes. “Words like “simple” and “tasteful” and colors like black and gray come to mind along with images of women of a certain age and class—professors, editors, psychotherapists, lawyers, administrators—for whom the hiding of vanity is an inner necessity,” wrote Janet Malcom in a feature about Fisher for the New Yorker last year. Fisher’s clothes are ethereal, like deserts or cloud formations. They have hardly any structure, except for maybe, the concept box. Vanity disappears in Eileen Fisher clothing–so does your body. It might look as if they were effortlessly flung on, as Malcom suggests. Yet, you also might look like a very rich bag lady. This was nothing that every appealed to me. Why did it need too?

Fast forward a decade. A catalog is delivered to my home and I ogle the Eileen Fisher shapeless organic cotton ballet neck dress. The jersey maxi skirt. Oh my God, I’m old enough to wear Eileen Fisher.

And I like her clothes.

If I could, I’d rock a muscle-t half shirt with an A-line skirt and a pair of clogs. But I’m not 23. And neither is my stomach.

My favorite item of clothing is my feminist schmata—a black sweater I wear every day. It’s longer in the front, short in the back. It’s thin and has some holes in the armpits, but still looks great with jeans. A shapeless staple. It was an expensive sweater, my feminist schmata. I was with my sister-in-law, a fashion designer, who encouraged me to buy it. “I’d rather buy something that lasts, rather than buy disposable clothing,” she told me.

Maybe that’s why Eileen Fisher is so appealing. Because when your shape changes, it’s nice to rely on clothes that aren’t so form-fitting.

When I mentioned this idea to a 36-year-old friend of mine, she said, “I think Eileen Fisher clothes are terrible. The last person I want to fashionably look like is a college professor I mean, what are you a Mennonite?”

This originally appeared on Femamom.