When I was growing up, I worked at the neighborhood pool as a lifeguard and swim lesson instructor. I loved it. I loved the people I worked with, the hours were good, and the pay was great.
For lessons, I did one session with toddlers and it was miserable. I wasn’t great at it and hated how all the kids sat– blue and chattering– on the side of the pool as they waited their turn to get dunked… and, subsequently, cry. I asked for a change and in the next session I was paired to teach with my great friend Rachel and we got the second thru fourth graders.
These kids could swim a length of the pool and go off the board, but were looking to sharpen their strokes, learn flip turns, and how to dive. This was my sweet spot. I was good at it and had a lot of fun. These were kids who you could mess with a little and cheer on. They were kids who came to find me later in the day, when I was in the guard chair, to show me what they were working on, ask me to rate their cannon ball splash, or tell me the latest gossip from the playground during adult swim.
And, not surprisingly, Rachel and I made a great team as instructors. I can’t wait until we are old ladies and do something job-wise together again.
One morning, as we waited for our class to arrive at our designated spot in the deep end, I sat on the grated edge with my shins in the water. Two little girls– longtime “pool rats” as the guards lovingly called any kid who spent literally all day, everyday at the pool– came up to me and announced, “Look Claire! We did our hair just like you!”
I squinted up at the little girls, one tall and lanky the other short, and saw that they had styled their hair in an attempted messy ball, right on top of their heads.
Normally the girls would come to the 10 AM class with their bed head hair down, making learning flip turns a mess. But this morning, the girls looked different with their bangs out of their faces. I reached for the mess of thick hair on top my my head and realized… their hair was like mine. On purpose.
The way I threw up my hair- right on top of my head- was a style to them. A style that might make them look older or cooler and they wanted to try it.
As the weeks wore on I noticed they would stride in with rolled up cheer shorts, messy buns and one day they both arrived in big, glittery drug store sun glasses. I pushed the bridge of the sparkly white Fossil shades I splurged on with the summer’s first paycheck ($60…! I still remember!) up my nose and smiled.
It was funny and I didn’t mind it. I have a younger sister so I knew a few things about imitation.
As I headed off to freshman year of college in August these girls shared that they were going to be Rachel and me for Halloween. We both passed on our guard whistles and new, “.edu” email addresses and told them they better send a picture.
They did.
They were us for Halloween.
I remember corresponding a bit via email that first semester with them… and I really, really hope I wasn’t an idiot sharing how I went to a fraternity date party for Halloween dressed as a devil while my date was an angel.
After a little while, the emails fizzled off. (Or, maybe I did share my Halloween plans and their parents– the email address holder– thought, “Nope. No more. Not the role model we thought she was…”)
I can’t even remember the girls names. And, they probably can’t remember mine. But, I have thought about them a bit in the last year, thinking they must be something like… twenty two? Twenty three? Are they doing okay with quarantine? Did they lose their senior year? Their first job?
Or… are they roasting me on TikTok?
Are they– sweet little things as they were– telling me and my peers that our side parts and skinny jeans label us old when just a few years ago (you know, in 2005…) they were imitating me with the purpose of looking… older?
My poor mid-thirty millennial peers are in a tizzy over this. It’s allllll over social media. Cries of” “You can pry my skinny jeans off my old, dead body!” “Why would I take advice from the generation that ate Tide Pods?” And, the ever self righteous: “I don’t care about trends I have bigger things to worry about.”
Even The Cut did an article titled, “Side Parts Are For Olds?”
I have many thoughts.
(Of course I do.)
For one, I love a lot of the anti-anti-aging commentary out there. The, “I don’t care’s” and “what is great about your thirties is that you are no longer worried about what is cool.”
I like this. And, it is true! It is great and freeing to know there are bigger things than this and that you have found a sense of style that you love and are comfortable in. In our mid thirties, we have seen some shit (good and bad) and tried things (good and bad) before. We also have spent more time in our bodies, doing work to appreciate it, celebrate it and understand our own comfort and fit.
But, I don’t think that means we should stop.
I never want to be a person who claims I am “too old” to learn or know or care or try. I never want to grow out of learning and experimenting. I want to stay curious and play, just like those little girls at the pool did with their messy buns. And, just like I did this past fall when I parted my hair in the center and purchased a pair of flares from Madewell… and liked it.
My hair is still thick (and often in that signature messy bun), but when curled and parted on the side I sometimes look… Shirley Temple-like. It is too much. Too done. But, on me, curls and a center part looks balanced and right… And, as a bonus, it camouflages the gray streak that flares up on the right side of my head at about five weeks post-color.
However, when straight? And, center parted? It’s a little Wednesday Adams. So, then I part it on the side.
The flares are awesome and make me feel tall, especially when paired with booties or a small heel instead of the flip flops we tried to make work with them in our youth. But, I still have my skinny jeans for when I need to slip into my– cover your eyes, fashionista’s– UGGS.
It’s fun to try things, especially things like this because the stakes are low. If it doesn’t work, it’s not a big deal. You can opt out. But, you also have the opportunity for something to be great.
As we age, we get the great privilege of knowing ourselves more and better. We get the understanding of knowing what works well for us and what makes us happy. And, this goes well beyond fashion and trends. But, no matter what, I don’t think we should be so quick to dismiss things just because of this claim to “really know” ourselves and the world already and especially to just write things off because it comes from a younger generation.
I want to stay sharp on trends and technology, not to seem hip; but, because things are popular (most of the time) for a reason. I want to stay grounded in this curiosity and always be interested in life.
While, I want to have my own style and for that to be a style that is classic, yet playful and comfortable, yet chic; I also want to stay excited about things that are new and catching buzz. I want to play and experiment with my clothes and hair, but also with so much more than just my clothes and hair. I want to be aware and wise because sometimes these things and this new generation– as trivial as they seem on the surface– do really move the needle.
And if all of that sounds too PollyAnna, I will leave you with this, the reason I told you the whole story upfront: I don’t think these girls mom’s were looking to the lifeguard going on and on about the fraternity date party for fashion advice.
Just saying.
But, maybe, just maybe, those moms did try on a pair of white, sparkly sunglasses as they passed though Macy’s… Just to see what they were like.
To give it a try.
To play a little.
To smile.
And, who knows? Maybe they surprised themselves and liked it.
Join me on the Podcast today as I dive a little into this, the Carhartt Beanie and great influencers for those in their mid-thirties.
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