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Previously:
Fearless
"These things age a man, when he starts to understand the joys and
sorrows of life. To find love and lose it. To meet death in its many
forms. And happiness with its many faces."
I remember the day I turned thirty. I was actually thirty years, three months, and nine days old and it was when my best friend Vackie looked at what I was wearing to a party and he said, "Isn't it a little too young?"
I remember the day I turned thirty. I was actually thirty years, three months, and nine days old and it was when my best friend Vackie looked at what I was wearing to a party and he said, "Isn't it a little too young?"
WTF? I
thought. "What do you mean?"
"The
color. I mean, isn't a little too … uhmmm,
loud? I mean, honey, you are already of a certain age."
Gasp! "What? Are you saying that I'm old?" I thundered.
"Of course not! Hahaha. But ... really, you're going to wear that?" he asked.
Gasp! "What? Are you saying that I'm old?" I thundered.
"Of course not! Hahaha. But ... really, you're going to wear that?" he asked.
I looked at
myself in the mirror and saw the neon yellow shirt I was wearing and realized
that well, perhaps he was right. It did seem a little, uhmmm … too young.
I have always loved dressing up. I like how it can accentuate or change the way you look; make you cuter or more fuckable. Wear glasses and be the intellectual geek or a romantic poet, a jersey transforms you into the hot, sporty guy, eyeliner makes you a rockstar. You can be mysterious or sweet. You can be anything you want to be ... or so I thought.
The kinds of clothes I bought when I was in my 20s have remained the kind of clothes I love. They are no longer generally the kind of clothes I wear, but when I see something of that nature on someone else or in a shop, I am drawn to it.
The kinds of clothes I bought when I was in my 20s have remained the kind of clothes I love. They are no longer generally the kind of clothes I wear, but when I see something of that nature on someone else or in a shop, I am drawn to it.
Bright
colors used to adorn my cabinet: scarlet red, chartreuse, magenta, lime, and
vermillion. I remember when the 80s made a comeback and people in Manila
started wearing these hues, and the world seemed like a rainbow. My friends and
I would wear layers of shirts and polos, bright colored Chucks and bandanas and
it was one big delightful explosion of colors.
Colorful
and bright; that is still the core of my personal vision of myself, as opposed
to the version that people see, the way I actually dress and look nowadays.
Navigating
the tricky path between the two is what dressing has been like in the past two
years. If I feel anything about being in my 30s, it is that I look back on
the last decade with fondness and nostalgia while looking ahead at the future
with a certain degree of apprehension combined with a determination to enjoy it
as much as I enjoyed my 20s.
This has
been a crucial factor in choosing how I look. I don't want to pick a constant battle against
the forces of time.You cannot win, and
I am someone who picks my battles very carefully. I
choose not to compete in an area where I don't feel certain I will come out on
top --- the arena of looking young and beautiful. Instead, I choose to
channel my energy into other areas of my
life --- work, sex, friendship, and love.
Most
people's looks do not improve as we age, and fear of the loss of physical beauty comes hand in hand with each additional year. The wrinkles start to appear, the hair turns grey, our bellies become bigger, our girth wider. Wherein
once you could lure a thousand men, you may find yourself being passed over
more and more for younger, prettier things. A relic from an ancient era
Occasionally
I catch myself in the mirror and see somebody I don't recognize. Especially on
those days when you're tired, or lacked sleep, or well ... hung over. It is on those days time wrecks
havoc with a terrifying power.
Though
sometimes I wish I can regain all my youth back, I have become quite
content with how I look. Made peace with the lines in my face, the dark circles
under my eyes. No longer am I afraid to tell people my real age.
But with
clothes it is quite different. There are times I still want to wear what I
want; but the question of what you can wear becomes more charged and complex as
you age. And who is making that decision anyway? The fear of dressing
inappropriately and landing on the pages of the worst-dressed list lurks like some ghastly specter around your closet. You ask yourself: Do I really need another accessory?
Can I still wear shorts? Can I still wear red jeans? Can I still pull it off? Is it ... too much?
I know that the vintage floral shirts I used to love now make me look like one of my least favorite English teacher when I was in school, rather than boyishly fun and appealing. Sugary pastels are definitely a no-no. More on more, I find myself choosing clothes of a darker shade. I head for block colors and checkered patterns.
Whereas once, you might have looked cute and adorable, you now try to be sophisticated and elegant. Well ... try at least, though you may not always succeed.
I know that the vintage floral shirts I used to love now make me look like one of my least favorite English teacher when I was in school, rather than boyishly fun and appealing. Sugary pastels are definitely a no-no. More on more, I find myself choosing clothes of a darker shade. I head for block colors and checkered patterns.
Whereas once, you might have looked cute and adorable, you now try to be sophisticated and elegant. Well ... try at least, though you may not always succeed.
Still, once in a while, I indulge myself. Dress up the way I want ... just because I want to. After all, clothes should be all about fun, right? At some point, we all think we lose the person we were when we were younger and become somebody old. But we don't ... not really. And the pleasure we take from life, including clothes, reflects that.
So if one day you encounter a grumbling, grey-haired old man wearing a bright neon yellow shirt, well ... you probably know who it will be.
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