The Midult’s guide to... fashion

There is no longer any such thing as mutton dressed as lamb. That idea has expired and all that remains is an empty, hate-loaded phrase. The rules are all broken. Twenty-year-olds have Botox and 45-year-olds wear braces: go fig ure. Time was, jumpsuits were for other people. They were either boiler suits or catsuits: both improbably evocative choices for your average Midult. Today, jumpsuits are a statement of relevance, of capability, of ‘here’s a trend I can pull off’. And, cr ucially, they are not dungarees. Dungarees are almost insurmountably t ricky, where jumpsuits are doable.

Inevit ably, by t his t ime next year they will be consigned, like the ballet flat (so versatile, so tremendously terrible for your feet), to the ‘she has no idea’ scrapheap. But for now, Midults everywhere are making hay while the jumpsuit shines. And there’s a jumpsuit for everyone... with caveats:

1. Pee maths. Sometimes, it gets to 3pm and you realise you haven’t been to the loo since breakfast. Other times? Well, it’s as though someone’s having a laugh wit h your bladder. ‘ Rea l ly? Again? Already? Oh, God…’

And with a jumpsuit there are calculations to be made about the length of time it takes to unfold yourself from its confines and the implications of that delay. Also, how cold is the bathroom? Because you are going to be sitting there, naked but for a bra from the ankles up, and complete disrobement leaves you chilly, not to mention excessively vulnerable.

Finally, how clean are the facilities? You can bet that, at the very least, the sleeves of your jumpsuit will be trailing across the loo floor. This is particularly true when drunk.

2. Escapology maths. If it zip sup at the front then you are laughing. Buttons from chest to groin (a word that is more fun to write than to read) are also negotiable. A side zip, provided it behave sand you can shrug off the contortion-induced shoulder cramp, is a reasonable exit strategy.

But what about the back zip? Only yesterday, one of us found herself bent over the kitchen sink, spraying the zip on a new jumpsuit with WD-40. Didn’t work. Listen, if you can’t reach back and ease the zip over an insolent seam on a frock, then it’s a bore. But if you can’t unzip an all-in-one then you can’t go to the loo. Yes, we’re back in the loo. We’re always back in the loo .‘ Use the coathanger trick,’ you say. Good plan, except that ‘modern’ zips are a little teardrop with no hook-welcoming hole, and most clutch bags aren’t roomy enough for a wire coathanger.

Now, let’s talk about t he different flavours of jumpsuit:

1. Strapless. Actually, we don’t want to talk about strapless. Few of you will feel comfortable with the idea of strapless anything, so shall we let this lie?

2. Denim. This is the way forward if you are in a utility mood. It’s washable, which is not nothing, and if you turn up the collar (you’re a Midult, you can get away with this little dollop of absurdity) and wear it wit h your white Adidas shell-toes, you are ready for anything.

3. Patterned. We’ll have to address this on a case-by-case basis. They can make us look like summer. Or a sofa.

4. Jersey. By which we mean made from T-shirt material. This worries us. For ever y fierce success there’s going to be another t hat looks like a pile of dirty laundry.

So we wish you luck with your jumpsuit moment. And let’s make a pact: if we bump into each other in the loo, let’s just zip each ot her up? No questions asked. themidult.com