AT 63, I WORE A PRINT AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME IN YEARS
I have never written one of these before, and I almost didn't start this one either, because I can hear exactly what some of you are thinking. Dungarees, at sixty-three. I thought the same thing.
Here is how I got here. Somewhere around sixty, dressing myself changed from a two-minute job into a small negotiation every morning. Do I wear the top that swishes and shows too much, or the jumper that hides everything and makes me look like I've thrown a tent on to nip to the shops? I kept choosing the tent.
Hiding was comfortable. It was also starting to feel like giving up, and I did not love what that said about me.
It was never really about dungarees specifically. It was about wanting one outfit that didn't require a decision — something I could step into without checking myself twice in the hallway mirror on the way out.
Then Rosemary Wore Hers To Book Club
Not the shapeless kind you're picturing. A soft grey linen pair, covered in embroidered wildflowers and the odd little bee, worn over a plain white t-shirt. She looked comfortable and she looked put together, and I hadn't thought those two things went together any more, not for us.
She told me they were from Everly Rose Boutique, a small British boutique that's been quietly dressing women our age for a few years now. They do a whole summer collection of them, dungarees and jumpsuits, in dozens of prints. I ordered the grey wildflower pair on the walk home, fairly sure I'd be sending them back by the weekend.
What Happened At The Allotment Open Day
I wore them over the same white t-shirt, with espadrilles instead of wellies because I was feeling brave. Three women I only vaguely know stopped to ask where they were from before I'd even found the tea urn.
One of them was Carol, who has never once commented on anything I've worn in the eleven years I've known her. She said I looked like I'd made an effort. I've decided to take that as the compliment it probably was.
I have barely taken them off since. To the allotment, into town, round to my son's for Sunday lunch. You step into them over a top and you're dressed, properly dressed, in about ten seconds.
Three Things I Have Learned
One. Nothing digs in. There's no waistband fighting you, no zip, nothing to tuck in. You put them on and forget about them for the rest of the day, which at our age is worth quite a lot.
Two. The print is doing the heavy lifting. A plain grey pair would read as gardening clothes. It's the embroidered flowers that make them look chosen, not defaulted to.
Three. There's one for everyone. Florals, stripes, a couple of plainer colourways, sizes from a small up to a 2XL. Half the fun was working out which one felt like me.
About The Price
I'll be honest, the price is what made me suspicious in the first place.
They are £37.95. They were £76.00.
My first thought was that there had to be a catch, because comfortable clothes that actually look nice don't usually cost that little. I haven't found one. It's a small boutique selling directly, and they run a seasonal sale to move the current prints. I read the reviews the way I imagine you're doing right now — 4.7 stars, from over 1,800 of them, not the suspiciously perfect five you see on some sites, which if anything made me trust it more.
"Bought the grey pair for the garden and now I'm in them most days. Nothing digs in and I've had lovely comments." — a reviewer, apparently as won over as I was.
What I Would Tell You If We Were Friends
If you and I were having a cup of tea and you asked me straight out, this is what I'd say.
If you've quietly started reaching for the same three shapeless things because nothing with a waistband feels good any more, but some part of you resents that you have, it's worth ten minutes of an evening to go and look.
A pair of dungarees doesn't fix anything, not really. But being comfortable and still looking like yourself at the same time is a small thing I'd stopped expecting to have, and I'd rather you didn't stop expecting it either.
I am sixty-three, and I own dungarees again. I did not see that coming, and I am glad of it.
Diane
The Wildflower Linen Dungarees
- One-piece dungarees, dressed in seconds
- No waistband, no zip, nothing digging in
- Embroidered wildflower design that still looks put together
- Relaxed, roomy wide-leg fit, sizes S–2XL
- Free UK delivery