I’m fifty! I am my mother’s fifty year old baby.
Decades of irrational fears . . . all for naught. I have not been carried off by a crocodile, a tsunami, spontaneous combustion, or ebola.
Perhaps my fears of domestic hazards — hot things (the oven, set to broil) and sharp things (large knives) and various electrical cords — have been overblown?
Having made it to fifty — which I’ve been thinking of as the half-way point even though . . . most people don’t live to be 100 — maybe it’s time to let go of fear.
Then again, perhaps fear has kept me alive.
Intellectually, I know that my irrational fears are nothing more than a source of entertainment (terror and amusement) and my longevity (half-longevity) is due to luck — the luck of good health,* the luck of accident avoidance.
But I don’t want to get stuck today on the concept of luck. Such reflections always begin cheerfully and then become grim because ruminations on luck always lead thoughtful people (like you and me) to ruminations on arbitrary misfortune.** And that leads to guilt.
So instead, I will say this: I am delighted to be fifty. My forties were wonderful and I have very high hopes and expectations for the coming decade. Age is freedom!
Now a few quick words on clothes.
For mild fall, a cotton sweater with sculptural details. This sweater reminds me of the film adaptation of Possession (A.S. Byatt’s novel), which (as we’ve previously discussed) was a Good Movie For Clothes. Now I want to watch the film and re-read the book.
And because it’s my birthday, I will show you another tiny, unnecessary bag from the deep recesses of my closet and beg your indulgence.
I am usually so pragmatic about bags, but every once in a while, I cannot resist a tiny, unnecessary bag. But I pick them up cheaply, on sale. This one came from Furla’s 2018 end-of-year sale.
Lavender and crimson, tapestry shot with metallic threads, shiny hardware are the obvious attractions.
But there’s more.
An inexplicably unrelated, whimsical handle!
White leather? Hot air balloons? Orange? Scalloping?
I expect that I have not just your indulgence but your full support.
Sweater: 3.1 Phillip Lim; Pants: JCrew; Bag: Furla Metropolis; Watch: Shinola; Shoes: Rebecca Minkoff
* I had a terrible episode of Norovirus several years ago, but it actually jump-started a very successful effort to shed a few pounds. That’s luck.
** I know that I’m lucky. In 1988, Jim Hightower described George H.W. Bush as a man who “was born on third base, but thinks he hit a triple.”