The Five Cs of keeping your look fresh: Counting the Cost

Now that I've spent 30 days telling you how to look younger, I think it's time to discuss some of the other subjects I mentioned in The Beauty Boomer Manifesto. One of these is the cost of our clothes.

Earth to fashion magazines: "investment dressing" is an oxymoron

If you've been around as long as I have, you've been told over and over again to spend heavily on your basics. To sink real money into shoes, bag, wool overcoats, and suits. They tell you you won't look polished or professional if you pay less, and that nobody will take you seriously in your $50 shoes and $100 coat. They tell you it's OK to break the bank on these important pieces because they're an investment.

I cry bullshit.

Clothing isn't an investment

On the spectrum of necessary expenses, clothes come in somewhere between groceries and a new car.

First of all, clothes are a consumable with a shelf life. It might not be the shelf-life of a Twinkie, but clothing isn't gold bullion; it doesn't last forever.

Second, as soon as you drive that outfit home from Macy's, it loses 30 percent of its value. So unless you're buying Fortuny evening gowns at thrift shops and flipping them to the Met's Costume collection, you're not making money on clothes.

Now, the nice thing about reaching our stage in life (I won't call us middle-aged for fear of offending Rosina) is that it's perfectly appropriate to spend heavily on items that are going to get a lot of wear. Or on items that have a serious job to do. Or that award you serious joy points.

The other day I was at Forever XXI with my daughter, shopping for Easter finery. I was waiting to pay for her new dress, and it occurred to me that the bra I was wearing cost more than the dress I was buying for my daughter. And as screwy as that sounds--how can two straps and a quart of spandex cost more than an entire dress--it's a perfect example of the point I'm trying to make.

My daughter will outgrow a dress in less time than it takes me to fold a load of laundry. It would be a ridiculous waste to spend Lilly Pulitzer-levels of money on a dress for her.

On the other hand, there is no sum too high to spend to get the girls--well, if not too high, then high enough. Somewhat perky. And unfortunately, I'll be wearing the same size for long enough to amortize the cost of my expensive bra.

Sometimes I think I should be wearing a sign that says "Body by Wacoal."

So don't let a sales associate or a fashion magazine talk you into spending more than you're comfortable with. If you hear the phrase "investment dressing," my advice is to stick your fingers in your ears and go "la la la la I can't heeeeeeaaaaarrrr you."

Unless the piece in question gives you serious joy. Or earns its keep. Which in my case, wouldn't be a pink and green shift dress--but would be a great-fitting bra.

This post brought to you by Poppy's collection of Wacoal bras.

30 Days to 10 years younger--10 minute tips. Tip 5: Perk up the girls

I live very near a very large high school, so for the past 12 years, I've become increasingly conscious of teenaged breasts. Specifically, how high up they are.

Supposedly, when you're wearing a bra, your nipple is supposed to be halfway between your shoulder and your elbow. Would somebody tell these teenaged girls? Because seriously, their nipples appear to be an inch south of their collarbones. If that.

For proof, check out 15-year old Michelle Trachtenberg (and 23-year-old Sarah Michelle Gellar.)

Now check out Bea Arthur as Maude.


Or check out Meryl Streep and Amanda Seyfried in Mamma Mia.


Bea and Meryl don't look terrible. In fact, they both look pretty great. But they would both have benefited from a bit more lift and separate.

I want you to try on every bra you own and get rid of any that aren't working. If you're using the tightest hook and the highest strap setting but you still fail the pencil test, you've achieved bra fail. Ditto if you've washed it so many times that it's getting hard to read the label. And if you can't remember where and when you bought it, chances are it isn't doing what you paid it to do.

This also includes bathing suits.

Uma, Uma, Uma. Please. You know better.

So please. Toss out the bras that have passed their expiration date. Today.

Remember, diamonds are forever, but the same can't be said of spandex.

How you can tell I'm old

without even looking.

1. A telemarketer just called me trying to get me to donate money to the Republican National Committee.

2. The last movie I saw in a theater was Capote.

3. I ran out of ambition a long time ago. Although I still yearn to perfect my bra-ironing technique.

4. Empty-nesterdom sounds pretty nice. Sort of the way sky-box seats sound when you're in the bleachers wading through spilled beer.

5. Pregnancy, labor, breastfeeding, diaper rash, and car seats are becoming distant, dim memories, along the lines of my First French Kiss and Learning To Ride a Two-Wheeler.

6. I'll never live in my dream house. It's OK; I'll probably never be much of a housekeeper. Except for the way I totally plan to nail the bra-ironing event in the 20012 Olympics.

7. I don't feel the least bit ironic or poser-y wearing diamond jewelry, matching shoes and bag, a skirt suit, and a mink coat--even all at once. As long as my bra is ironed.

8. Charitable institutions are not just asking me for money; they want to talk to me in person. They even try to come to my house. (I don't let them. It would waste valuable bra-ironing time.)

9. I don't "get" Etsy. To me, the whole thing smacks of wrinkled bra cups.

I saved the most important for last:

10. I don't take shit from anyone.