After Children and Menopause, I Didn’t Lose My Style – I Finally Found My Own

For years, women have been told that reaching our 50s means toning things down.

Lower the heel. Cover the arms. Stop wearing that colour. Choose something “age appropriate”. Buy the sensible handbag. Wear the sensible shoe.

I have done almost the opposite.

At 55, after raising children, travelling the world, going through menopause and watching my body change, I feel more connected to fashion than I did in my 30s or 40s. The difference is that today I am no longer dressing for anybody else.

I am dressing for Gracie Opulanza.

And she needs to be able to walk, talk, travel, eat, laugh and live in what she is wearing.

My body changed – so my fashion had to change too

Children change your body. Menopause changes it again.

There is absolutely no point pretending otherwise.

Things sit differently. Shoes that once felt effortless suddenly feel like medieval torture devices. Waistbands matter. Fabric matters. Heat matters. Weight matters. And when you travel as much as I do, practicality becomes part of luxury.

But practical does not have to mean boring.

That was probably my biggest fashion revelation.

I don’t want to dress like I did when I was 25. I don’t particularly want the body I had at 25 either. I want clothes that celebrate the woman I am today.

My wardrobe now has one very simple rule:

If I can’t walk, talk and feel comfortable in it, I don’t buy it.

No matter whose name is written inside.

I sold around 50 pairs of heels

There was a time when my wardrobe was dominated by heels.

Beautiful heels. Ridiculous heels. Designer heels. Shoes that looked extraordinary in photographs and considerably less extraordinary after walking across Rome cobblestones for 20 minutes.

I finally looked at them and thought: What exactly am I keeping these for?

So I sold them.

Around 50 pairs.

For someone who adores shoes, that sounds almost sacrilegious.

But I didn’t stop loving footwear. I simply changed what luxury footwear meant to me.

Today I am hunting for fabulous pumps I can actually walk in, wedges, boots and clogs. Shoes with character. Shoes made from beautiful leather. Shoes that can survive a real day rather than a five-minute entrance.

And this is where vintage and pre-loved fashion became exciting again.

In my 40s below, thinner infact 15kg to be exact.

Vestiaire Collective became my treasure hunt

I have been buying and selling on Vestiaire Collective for years, and I don’t use it simply because something is cheaper.

My question is never:

“Is this cheap?”

My question is:

“Has everybody else missed this?”

That is an entirely different way of shopping.

I search old listings. Sometimes months old. Sometimes a year or two old. Pieces that have quietly been sitting there while everyone else chases the latest handbag appearing on Instagram.

That is where I find the gems.

Salvatore Ferragamo is one of my great loves.

Vintage Ferragamo shoes, bags and jewellery represent the sort of craftsmanship I want in my wardrobe now. I recently rediscovered fabulous Ferragamo earrings, and they immediately reminded me why older accessories can have so much more personality than something produced simply because it is trending this season.

The same applies to bags.

I would rather buy one beautifully made vintage Italian leather bag with history than five anonymous new ones.

Linen and silk have replaced fashion suffering

Living and travelling between hot climates completely changed the way I look at fabric.

I don’t care how impressive a dress looks on a hanger if wearing it makes me feel like I have been wrapped in plastic.

I actively search for linen and silk.

Real fabrics.

Fabrics that move.

Fabrics that breathe.

Fabrics that become better as you wear them.

When you are experiencing menopause and standing somewhere in Italy in almost 40-degree heat, polyester can suddenly feel like a personal attack.

Linen doesn’t need to be pristine either.

I love the wrinkles.

They tell people that I am wearing linen. They tell people I’ve been moving. Travelling. Living.

That slightly crushed texture is part of the luxury.

Silk has the same appeal. It moves against the body rather than fighting it. A beautiful silk kaftan, loose trouser or oversized shirt can be glamorous without needing to expose anything.

And importantly, I can actually breathe.

Vietnam taught me the joy of bespoke clothing

Travelling also introduced me to something that completely changed how I think about clothes: having pieces made specifically for my body.

In Vietnam, I discovered the joy of bespoke clothing.

Not couture in the ridiculous sense of needing to spend thousands. I mean sitting with a tailor, choosing a fabric, discussing the shape and having something made for you.

Your shoulders.

Your waist.

Your hips.

Your lifestyle.

There is something incredibly liberating about reaching your 50s and refusing to believe your body must somehow squeeze itself into whatever proportions a fashion company decided were correct that season.

Why should I change my body for the dress?

Change the dress for my body.

That is luxury.

I even changed the way I look at jewellery

Jewellery became more emotional too.

Over the years I inherited family rings that carried memories but weren’t necessarily pieces I wanted to wear in their original form.

So rather than leaving them sitting in a jewellery box, I had rings melted down and transformed.

Family heirlooms became something new.

Something I could wear.

Some people are horrified by the idea of altering inherited jewellery. I see it differently.

What is the point of a ring spending another 30 years hidden in a drawer simply because nobody wants to change it?

The gold remains.

The story remains.

The family remains.

But now the jewellery becomes part of my story as well.

That idea increasingly defines my wardrobe.

I am not interested in preserving fashion like a museum curator. I want to wear it.

Vintage doesn’t mean dressing like the past

One mistake people make with vintage is believing you need to recreate the decade the piece came from.

Absolutely not.

If I wear vintage Ferragamo earrings from the 1980s, I don’t need an entire 1980s outfit.

I’ll wear them with linen.

With denim.

With a kaftan.

With something bespoke.

With a pair of clogs.

That clash between decades is what makes fashion personal.

A vintage handbag beside an inexpensive dress.

Old Italian jewellery beside something made in Vietnam.

A dramatic kaftan with practical shoes.

High fashion mixed with something found in a market.

That is much more interesting to me than walking into a boutique and buying the entire mannequin.

I don’t shop because something is fashionable anymore

That may be the biggest difference between being younger and being in my 50s.

When I was younger, fashion could convince me that I needed something.

Now fashion has to convince me.

I have spent too many years travelling, interviewing designers, reviewing luxury hotels, attending fashion events and observing how the industry works to be hypnotised by a logo.

I adore luxury.

But luxury and expensive are not the same thing.

Luxury can be a perfectly worn-in leather bag.

A pair of vintage Ferragamo earrings.

A hand-tailored linen dress.

A family ring redesigned so you actually wear it.

A pair of boots bought pre-loved for a fraction of their original price.

Or simply a garment that feels wonderful against your skin.

Comfort isn’t giving up

Women are sometimes made to feel that choosing comfort means surrendering.

I think that idea belongs in the bin alongside “age appropriate”.

Comfort at 55 doesn’t mean beige elasticated trousers and orthopedic shoes.

It means knowing yourself well enough to stop suffering for fashion.

If I am wearing boots, I want to walk through Florence in them.

If I am wearing wedges, I want to stand in them.

If I am carrying a handbag, I want to use it rather than treat it like an exhibit.

If I am wearing silk, I want it touching my skin.

Fashion should accompany your life.

Your life should not have to accommodate your fashion.

My fashion mojo wasn’t lost

Perhaps that is what happens to many women after children and menopause.

We think we have lost our fashion mojo.

Maybe we haven’t.

Maybe the woman we were dressing no longer exists.

My body changed. My lifestyle changed. My priorities changed. My children grew older. I travelled more. I became less interested in approval and considerably more interested in freedom.

Naturally my wardrobe had to change with me.

Today it is full of linen, silk, vintage discoveries, bespoke pieces, boots, wedges, clogs, comfortable pumps, dramatic jewellery and accessories with stories behind them.

Some pieces cost very little.

Some once cost thousands.

I couldn’t care less.

The only question that matters is:

Do I feel fabulous wearing it?

Because fashion in your 50s isn’t about trying to become the woman you were at 25.

It’s about finally having enough experience to dress as the woman you always wanted to become.

And if I can’t walk, talk and live in it?

It can stay on Vestiaire Collective.