MY GENERATION
Mother and daughter discuss the importance of looking good
BEL
When I visit the elegant 213-year-old Theatre Royal Bath, I gaze in amazement at theatregoers in clothes I wouldn’t wear for the supermarket. Women in baggy trousers and anoraks and what must be gardening shoes. Middle-aged men in ugly T-shirts that cling to rotund bellies. Younger people in dirty trainers and sweat tops, with white legs poking through ripped jeans – a most bizarre fashion that sums up an attitude that it isn’t ‘cool’ to look as if you can afford decent clothes. But why? What’s so wrong with making an effort?
I was raised to know that appearance matters. My (working-class) grandmother always wore a neat hat and gloves and my mother went to her office job looking bandbox smart. She had some neat, plain shift dresses for which she made different sets of collars and cuffs, to exchange day by day, carefully stitching on to make the dresses look different. She taught me how to make my own clothes and bought me budget fabric to sew chic mini-dresses and blouses. It goes without saying that hair and make-up had to be just so. Yes, I learnt to be smart at my mother’s knee.
This has nothing to do with being a fashionista. I couldn’t care less about what’s in fashion, spend little on make-up, and now cut and colour my own hair. I know what I like and keep most of my clothes for years. But every day I carefully choose my outfit (even if it is just jeans and a lovely top) and what jewellery goes with it. The same clothes will not be worn two days running. If I change my top during the day I’ll swap jewellery that doesn’t tone with the new look. I always put on some make-up (eyeliner an essential and a dab of powder on my nose) even if I’m only going into my study to write. As for the theatre – well, why wouldn’t I want to wear a lovely dress and heels?
Now, although I admit I like my husband to think I look good (especially as I am 17 years older than he) this is not about pleasing my man. This is for me. Knowing you look good gives you confidence and, as you get older, you need it! I sometimes hear women complaining that over 50 they feel invisible – but notice they’re dressed drearily in shapeless taupe or beige and wearing sensible shoes. ‘Break out the colour, lady!’ I want to shout, ‘and get some lippy on!’
There are times when I look at the generation after me and wonder why they’re happy to slob around in shapeless grey T-shirts and flip-flops that should be binned. Once Kitty (and the kids) spontaneously came to stay because her husband was away. It so happened that I had friends invited for dinner that night, and my table was already set beautifully. Naturally she asked if she could party with us, too. ‘Of course,’ I said, ‘but only if you change your clothes!’ She rolled her eyes, but had no choice but to obey.
What’s so wrong with making an effort?
Luckily all my clothes fit her, so she came down in one of my floaty embroidered ‘boho’ tops over her own skinny black jeans, wearing some make-up – looking gorgeous enough for a glass of fizz!
There’s actually more to this than pleasing yourself. I wanted Kitty to look good for friends who’d be dressed up too. That makes it an occasion for everybody. At the theatre or a concert I look as if I respect the beautiful building and the performers giving their all on stage. When staying with my best friend I’ll always change for supper, to demonstrate appreciation. You see, Freud believed appearance sends messages to the world: ‘…every little negligence... means to express something the wearer of the apparel does not wish to say directly.’ So, the man who turns up somewhere looking like a slob probably is one. The woman who arrives at your lovely party in jeans and a sweater scorns all your careful preparations. Pleading busyness isn’t good enough, because we’re all busy. Take time to make an effort, ladies!
KITTY
My generation does make less effort than Mum’s – and why not? It’s completely acceptable to wear jeans for almost every occasion and no one I know would change for supper at home. The mums at my daughter’s school gate are mostly casual – dressed to work out or go to work. Even at the occasional black-tie event I attend the women favour cocktail dresses rather than glamorous full length. Leisurewear is much more fashionable than it was, with brands like Sweaty Betty transforming the way we dress down. Yes, I still love to dress up and wear make-up but just not every day – and I think Mum sometimes struggles with that. She likes me to be glam.
Clothes are always a volatile issue between mother and daughter – I remember, at 13, physically grappling with Mum as she tried to remove the teeny-tiny denim hot-pants she’d banned me from wearing and I was trying to sneak out in. She may have been right then but, 25 years later, how I dress should be up to me. Honestly, I don’t remember her asking me to change for dinner when she had friends over, I expect I was about to anyway (I know the rules in her house!) and it wouldn’t have bothered me terribly but sometimes I do get upset. For example recently, when I was ready for an evening out with my husband, feeling good (in skinny jeans, heels and a simple blue top), Mum asked, ‘Is that really what you’re wearing?’ She suggested I wear her new silk blouse with billowing sleeves from Boden Icons – but, sulkily, I refused.
Mum always looks great and I’ve always loved raiding her wardrobe. She has excellent taste and looks a lot younger than she is – I’m proud of my glamorous, stylish mother. Dressing up, doing her hair and wearing make-up whenever she leaves the house makes her feel good and I applaud that. After all, she’s hardly some bimbo – her brains match her beauty. But we are very different – I’m much more relaxed, like so many of my peers. I reckon I dress appropriately for the occasion: smart for a meeting or – yes – going to the theatre or out for dinner. But most days I choose practical and comfortable. After all, what I’m doing is chasing after my two-year-old or writing on my laptop at the kitchen table. I simply can’t be bothered with make-up – the mornings are hectic enough as it is. No one except me (and perhaps Mum!) notices and when I do bother with mascara and eyeliner it feels more special. That’s my choice and while I respect another woman’s right to slap on the lippy, I shouldn’t be judged for not joining in.
My daughter and I will doubtless disagree about what she wears over the next few decades – already now, like most five-year-olds, she has strong opinions. Luckily she wears school uniform, which makes life much easier, but at the weekends I try to encourage her to wear practical clothes. Chloe loves mermaids and princesses, dresses and sparkly accessories, but knows it’s easier to climb a tree in jeans rather than a frock and run fast in trainers rather than pretty shoes – and long may it continue. I want her to know that her appearance is the least important thing about her, that it’s more important to be kind than beautiful.
I’m sure this stage of life has much to do with my laissez-faire attitude to appearance and perhaps in a few years, when I’m not trying to get two small children dressed, fed and out the door to school, I’ll enjoying taking the time for hair and make-up. When I’m not spending days at playgroups maybe I’ll bother to dress more carefully because I know my outfit won’t get trashed. And in the meantime, I must admit that Mum is sometimes right… I did try on the top she suggested for my date-night and it looked great. So I’m going to borrow it next time I go out. Thanks, Mum.
How I dress should be up to me