I went to the wake of a friends father this past Friday. My struggle was with what to wear. I haven’t had the needd to dress like an “adult” for about a year and a half at this point. My wardrobe is filled with bright colorful attire which I didn’t feel was appropriate for the occasion. In the end I found something that worked and it felt alien on me. It wasn’t me.
I’ve been thinking about this topic a lot lately. I turned 50 this year and there is an expectation that you should be somewhat of a mature adult. The things you like and the clothes you wear should all be different that they were 20 years ago. Those things are no longer appropriate for your age.
But they are all still things that I really like and make me happy.
Should we conform to some idealized norm of what a particular age looks like? Why are we focusing on the chronological age as opposed to the psychological, biological or functional age?
I wouldn’t hold out for seeing me wearing a tweed blazer with elbow patches any time soon.
A History of Stupidity 