Retiring Fashionista
I am thinking of retiring. There, I’ve said it out loud. I am thinking of retiring, to be no longer employed, to no longer get up at 6.30 and face a day of challenges, discussions and decisions. No longer spend my time sitting in meetings, no longer walking beside families who have been dealt a harsh blow.
I am terrified.
I have worked since I was 16, taking a brief five year break to produce three beautiful children who have grown into beautiful hard working adults. My parents gave me my work ethos, my husband’s parents his and we have passed it onto our children — life is not a free ride, you have to earn what you have. And if you don’t earn enough, you can’t have it.
So why am I so scared? I always say that my work defines who I am, but that is not all that defines me. My family are the most sacred to me, I am a good daughter, a devoted wife, a tigress of a mother. I’m no paragon, don’t get me wrong. My husband and I have had some spectacular rows, but we love each other and have done so for forty-two years; we have the comfort of being niggly or argumentative with each other knowing it is only for that fleeting moment. We can sit in companionable silence, we almost always know what the other is thinking, we are in tune with each other’s half expressed thoughts and sentences. We cuddle and we forgive and forget. We are proud of each other’s achievements and our joint ones — our children, our homes and our comfortable life that we have worked so hard for. Together.
My husband is a few years my senior and he retired five years ago, so it is time that I hang up my Corporate wear and join him in living a new life that can be and will be just as fulfilling as the one I have now.
One of the really stupid things that I am not excited about is actually hanging up my Corporate wear. I love clothes, I always have. From the age of 14 I always had a fashion magazine to hand, and never leave the house without make up. It is also a definition of who I am, I like to look nice. I have kept abreast of fashion and whilst there is an 8 in my dress size, it is preceded by a 1 so I am not skinny but have learnt to make the most of my curvey curves and adapt “fashion” appropriately.
When I go to work I know that I look smart and am often complimented on what I am wearing by colleagues of all ages. I don’t participate in dress down Friday and sometimes, on office days when I look around, I wonder what happened to a working dress code. Some people look as if they have just come straight from the beach.
A colleague once said that we put on our armour and to some extent this is true, dressing as a confident woman can trick my psyche into believing that I am one. For a few hours at least.
Evenings and weekends are denim, tee shirts, leggings, jumpers — comfy casual, but when I go out teamed with a pair of ankle boots and topped with an on trend jacket. I love nothing more than having an occasion to dress up for.
So what will my retired wardrobe look like? I think of my Mum, who sadly passed away three years ago. She always looked lovely and no where near the 87 years that she was. Even after she lost her sight she knew what she wanted to wear, and it always went together, no clashes of colour or pattern. When I picked out Mum’s final outfit, I made sure it was stylish because she always was and I think she would have approved.
So, I can see the charity shops getting some work a day clothes to sell on when I make the next step from thinking about to actually retiring.
Maybe it is going to be exciting after all, a new way of living, spending time in the sun as well as in the rain, giving my 94-year-old Dad far more quality time as he joins us in our home next year and at the other end of the scale time with our little grandson.
And a whole new wardrobe to boot. Talking of boots …………
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