Speeding Toward 60 - Stylish, Stunned, and Still Me

Speeding Toward 60 — Stylish, Stunned, and Still Me

Let’s just start here: how am I almost 60? Seriously. I swear I was just 41, kind of killing it in skinny jeans, knee-high boots, a silk cami, and a cashmere sweater. Now suddenly I’m standing under dressing room lights thinking, “Has the lighting industry collapsed? Did they run out of flattering bulbs?” It’s got to be the lighting… right?

Time didn’t just pass — it floored it.

My fifties started off with a bang: an African safari with my favorite couple and my (soon-to-be ex) — yep, the breakup landed just weeks later. Cue COVID, a quiet small town, and my decision to sell the business I built over 25 years and move away. In the chaos of endings, I made space for reinvention. But let’s be honest — that much change at once? It wears on you. My confidence, body, and sense of self were in a tug of war with the unknown.
So I ran. Literally. At 51, I started running and somehow ended up in the best shape of my life. I ran two marathons, felt strong, grounded, and thought, “What was all the fuss about turning 50?”

Then 54 and 55 arrived — and with them, the small rebellions: my eyes went, my hearing followed, and no matter how much I moved, the scale had opinions. Yes, I’m still a size 2 (or a 4 if you ask the Italians — rude). But at 5’2”, the tiniest changes show up fast, and that lower belly? She has thoughts. If I wasn’t working out this hard, maybe I wouldn’t care as much.

But I love fashion. I’ve always loved fashion. I’ve never liked tight clothes, preferring a mix of fitted and easy. Now? I want everything loose — but I still want to look good. I find myself experimenting more than ever just to find what feels and looks right for this version of me.I don’t want to hide. I don’t want to give up. And I most definitely won’t be quiet.

Looking back, I realize how little we’re taught about aging — what it actually looks and feels like. The generation before us didn’t talk about it, and society has mostly fed us outdated scripts: 40 is old, 50 is Golden Girls, and 60? Practically invisible. But invisible to whom? Most of my closest friends are a decade older and they're the brightest women I know — brilliant, hilarious, accomplished... and, let’s be clear, insanely stylish.

Being a girl was hard. I had boobs and a period by age 9. Being a woman? Still hard. But I’m not going to be quiet or dress quietly. We’ve got stories to tell, and younger women need to hear them. This idea that aging means fading — in beauty, relevance, or sexuality — is a lie. Men age into “distinguished.” Women are labeled “old.” Men gain weight and they’re “robust.” Women? Not so kind. I mostly refuse to subscribe to any of it.

Here’s what I know: I am what I believe. And if I can’t talk kindly to myself, why should anyone else?

Fashion — my personal style — is how I speak kindly to me. Style matters more now than ever. These days, if something I try on makes me feel joy, I want it. I don’t care if it’s meant for evening — I’ll wear it to brunch. Case in point: I recently wore a vintage Dolce & Gabbana red velvet bustier dress to the Bob Dylan movie — Dolce, Dylan, and nachos.

Some things haven’t changed: I still wear hats most days. Still have bangs. Still bold lipstick. Still terrible nails, chaotic brows, and a never-ending search for a mascara that works on my three lashes. But the biggest shift? I now dress entirely for me — for every version of me that shows up.

That duality? It’s always been me — now I just own it more clearly.

Being closer to 60 than 50, I’ve started adjusting the dream. I’ve been letting go of old timelines, outdated goals that were never really mine. What do I want now? What’s missing? What can I let go of? I’m shedding — my closet, my expectations, and anything that takes up too much space. With all this shedding, I might actually lose a few pounds. I want room for joy, deeper friendships, and evolution.

Because yes, there’s been heartbreak, disappointment, and pain. But there’s also been joy, freedom, and wild, unexpected surprises. I worked hard to build this life — and I took big risks to shape it. Truthfully? Given where I started, I probably wasn’t supposed to get this far — certainly not expected to.

Now I’m reimagining what success, beauty, and identity can look like at 56, 60, and at the end. I guess I’m still becoming.

So maybe the heels are lower and the skincare less hopeful — but the fashion and the humor? Still going strong. If an outfit makes me smile, feel good, or even makes me curious or intrigued — that’s gold. I won’t stop dreaming. I won’t stop showing up in something cool, interesting, or fun. I won’t shrink my closet — or my life — down to “just a few essentials.”

If this resonated, feel free to share it with someone riding their own stylish, slightly chaotic wave. Or, leave a comment.

I may want less — but what I want now is so much more.

xo,
Suzi

And, for a bit of fun....here's a link to a shoppable board I made for 'mother's day'. click the link and then shop the small images above the lookbook main image. Have fun.