I am 32. Sometimes I forget that and I have to do the math in my head. Sometimes I say I'm older because I'm bad at math (or because sometimes I feel like I am 1,000 years old in my bones) but really I am 32. I don't know what this means anymore. Being 32 in the super high-tech world of skincare and make-up and botox and fillers and filters is as amorphous and undefined as any concept I've ever tried to wrap my head around. I can compare myself to celebrities who are 32 (but why would I want to?) or I could look at my friends who's ages I constantly get wrong. I often say, without any intention at humor, that we are probably the last generation who is visibly going to age at all. People laugh.
Then I see an 18 year old who looks like me, and I think - does she look old? Do I look young? Does it even matter? Ahhhhh.
Here's what I do know. I know now how to treat my skin and hair and body in such a way that I look better than I ever have. Or at least I like the way I look better. What's the difference? Does it even matter? Who cares?
Basically I don't know anything anymore and sometimes churning out content for this blog feels like the punishments of the god's for betraying them in ancient rome. Sometimes I just want to write: here are some pictures of me where I look pretty. Don't I? Tell me I do. Please?
Here's what I did/put on myself to make this appear in front of you. If you like it you should do it, too. If not, no pressure. You do you.
I'm not sure there is something new and revolutionary that I need to share with you everyday. These pants are from my last purge at my favorite vintage store. I walked in with a huge bag of stuff that I knew was good but never wear. I let it go. I got these amazing AG legging jean things as a trade. It felt great to shed that extra weight. I've had this silk shirt from Everlane for several years. I saw Sincerely Jules wear it and needed to have it. It doesn't look the same on me, but it's soft like butter on my skin. This is my Zara leather jacket that I basically wear all the time. I'm wearing that Armani foundation I gushed about. I should link to all the places I wrote about this stuff already but that feels like a lot of work. The sunglasses are from my endless supply at Shop Ditto. I bought this Rebecca Minkoff purse for my wedding. I tried to sell it once and was shocked by how little they were willing to give me for it. I'm so glad I kept it. There was a spread in this month's Glamour on frameless glasses and I thought why not, and swapped for them. Every single thing I put on my body has a story, and all of it is in this blog. I'm basically just stream of conscious typing right now. Please stop reading this. It's a lot of work to come up with exciting things to write about everyday, especially when I'm not even sure anybody reads it. I hope they do.
I hope that if you'd made it this far then my apathy is a lesson. Here are the lessons: we only get better with age (and by better I mean we like ourself better and who gives an eff what anybody else thinks?) I also hope you take away that silk feels amazing on your skin (in both fabric and foundation form) and that trendy things like frameless glasses should be rented and not bought.
See you tomorrow.