Feeling Like Pooh

When shopping is no longer fun

Winnie-the-Pooh seen here in a red crop top but strangely, no pants. Fortunately, he is able to carry this off.

Dear Reader: Please do consider pressing LIKE ❤️ at the end, if you enjoy this post (So simple! And no salesperson will call)

One of the interesting things I observe as I go along life’s way (at least in earth years) is how my own personal preferences and little enjoyments are evolving, shape-shifting or in some cases, snuffed out altogether.

I speak of clothes shopping. Yes ‘tis a trite and inconsequential concern, especially as the planet burns but it’s another example of a tiny, previously simple joy that for me, has become a tiresome, frustrating experience with little to recommend it. Style, length, colour. I do not enjoy or understand polyester yet natural fabrics like cotton are expensive and sometimes tricky to find. I know exactly what I want and can rarely find it.

A friend once lamented that for anyone over the age of say, 50, there is not much fashion choice between Barbara Bush and (a young) Brittney Spears. She’s not wrong. Out of curiosity, I examined a crop-top off the rack recently, in one of the few clothing stores remaining at the mall and was initially confused because it was only slightly larger than one of my dish cloths. There were sequins across the front spelling out the word ‘Babe.’

Evidently, the ideal size for a woman is a child’s 6X.

“Older women” and other so-called Coastal Grandmother-types are advised online to maintain a ‘capsule wardrobe’ full of mix and match neutrals. I understand this although the concept is a bit frumpy for me. But I would be happy to find some Bloomsbury-inspired, floaty blouses in ivory or a gentle blue to pair with edgy jeans and a good belt or even linen pants that weren’t recently discarded by a clown.

But it’s a hard no to pricey, universally unflattering ‘neutrals’ that should be called Raw Pastry, Hospital Change Room or Death-Becomes-You Beige. And yes I do understand that those warm caramels and soft celerys may be out there but not for the price I am able to pay and often not ethically appealing either.

And incidentally? I am all about recycling - always - but if my shirt is to be made from 80% plastic bottles, I don’t think that I should be able to tell.

Much coveted dress as seen at 2024 George Fry Gallery, Fredericton, New Brunswick. SO elegant.

Not something you’d wear to feed the chickens in, but still! So GORGEOUS.

I also agree that “older women” — and indeed all women — should wear whatever they like and feel comfortable in, but when so much that is on offer is SO dreadful (giant swirling flowers, baggy tops with strange pussycat bows at the neck, way too many flounces or ruffles ) what’s a girl to do?

Minnie Pearl has clearly forgotten to “pop that tag.!”

For the most part I have responded to all this by procrastinating, by not shopping at all and crazily, by sometimes purchasing the same things that I already have. This proves to be unhelpful. Of course, I no longer dress the same as I did when I was working but nowadays it’s so easy to feel wretched and a bit down when your pockets smell much more like dog cookies than Chanel.

Not that there is ANYTHING wrong with dog cookies, you understand

In no way am I trying to be pompous about all this. I cannot deny the initial dopamine blast that occurs from shopping online in one’s jammies, excitedly anticipating the parcel that is going to change my life, only to be let down 48 hours later when I’m unwrapping an outfit that is nothing like I’d imagined. I can also clearly read the washing instructions - through the material.

I hate being forced into all this and everything it stands for. Yet when I continue to support local shops I am often, invariably, asked by weary sales staff if I have checked online, since the store does not stock my size or colour. I mean, at least I have seen the item in person at this point and can order more confidently but it’s a sad, hollow, desperate feeling to be aiding and abetting what feels like the end of an era.

It’s depressing but I am nothing if not resilient.

I have recently embraced a different template by a combination of shopping online, shopping at local boutiques and Thrift shopping. I do all of this with Diane Keaton, Katharine Hepburn and Lauren Hutton as my lofty inspiration. (It’s my own potted version of Funky-Chic on a Budget.) For some people there is, I know, an “ick” factor associated with thrifting, but that is only because (I believe) they have never experienced the thrill of a perfect find. For me, it was a mint condition (designer!) Italian hacking jacket, beautifully lined, a very fine tweed and fits as though it was tailor-made. It was also under $30! Clothing that you find in a thrifting situation also removes the very real risk of buying expensive items that may not fare well in the wash. These pieces have already been there and done that!

And it is okay.

---

Back in the day, my very best friend and I used to have a glorious but now defunct tradition of taking the train to Toronto, usually just before Christmas. This was a hugely anticipated, festive event that involved a meal on the train - which would be quite decent - and a gala Ladies-Who-Lunch splurge after the big shop. There would also be a short break at some point for frothy coffees and one banana each which I brought along each year to stave off low blood sugar anxiety. After hours of successful shopping, we would find a bistro and gratefully collapse, stashing bags all a quiver with rustling tissue beneath the table, and sink into a wave of accomplishment and happiness. We’d order a glass or two of good wine, watch the snow gently ticking on the glass from our window seat and wait for tender ricotta pancakes or tiny ravioli filled with vanilla infused squash and sage.

This, is as rich and contented as I ever need to feel.

Perhaps I am recalling all this in soft focus (I don’t think I am) but the sales staff were also so helpful and did not issue silent daggers from beneath their lashes when they had to break contact from their phones. (Of course, all this was taking place during that quaint era prior to the advent of screens of all sizes.)

Finally, in conclusion, I would just like to say that there will never, for me, be an alternative to buying make-up in person and especially from the consistently brilliant staff at Sephora. I have never ever been disappointed or treated poorly there and most importantly, never spoken to in a special way because of my advanced years. Always helpful, always kind, always finding the ideal product. No packing envelope or overly polite bot is ever going to sincerely comment that my eye shape remains a perfect almond as they tap, tap, tap the eye cream round.

Thank you so much for the absolutely overwhelming response to my last post And I A Crone, Surprised. I appreciate the support so much as well as the amazing jump in new subscribers - welcome to you all!

As always, I love to read your thoughts and comments so please do press the LIKE ❤️ if you have enjoyed my writing. You’ll be providing a free boost to both my spirits and the algorithms! xo