But seriously, I don't mind aging so much. Sure my hair isn't as lustrous as it once was, it's harder and harder to lose weight, and it only takes a sip of wine to stain my teeth purple (What is up with that?), but those things pale in comparison to what I've gained. (OK, maybe not entirely, but I'm going with it.)
When I was a teen I tried on as many identities as most girls did prom dresses. I had a (thankfully) brief flirtation with jock chic (legwarmers, high top Reeboks, big hair) and preppie (Bass penny loafers and polo shirts with turned up collars). I had a longer affair with Goth. Oh, how I loved pairing Doc Martens with torn black dresses and practicing sullen looks in the mirror. The problem was, I'm kind of a sunny person. I can't help smiling at people. It kind of killed my whole Goth persona AND made me look like an ass in front of the real Goths. My real personality kept seeping through, but I wasn't comfortable enough to accept it. I'm naturally a hippie/gypsy/boho kind of chick. Still, during my last years of college I went through an Audrey in Paris phase (black leggings, ballet slippers, bobbed black hair) and a Marilyn phase (Chanel No. 5, tight dresses and a short curly `do).
I still wear ballet flats almost exclusively, but at nearly (fine I'll say it) forty, I've come to accept that I'll never shop at Hermes, and Doc Martens just make my feet sweat. This is my style, and has been, if I'm honest with myself, for decades: