Rock the Silver

Job-hunting orca

I hope this is not another dreadful sign of aging, but newspaper headlines continue to confuse me. Remember the last time I read that beach volleyball player Kerri Walsh became a man? Except it really said she become a mom? Either way, I was happy for her.

This morning I was not all that surprised to see a new orca showed up at SeaWorld with a resume in hand. I mean, it's not like the old one was doing a good job. Let's hope this one doesn't list killing people on its list of accomplishments.

Career Profile

_____________________________

Highly motivated, results-oriented ocean professional with excellent interpersonal skills and a strong track record of performance committed to building a long-term career in cheesy aquatic entertainment venue.

_____________________________

Humor aside, the trainer's death was a tragic accident, and my deepest sympathies go out to her family and the whole SeaWorld team. It's just heartbreaking, because they lost a person they loved, but you know they love the whale, too.

I personally don't like the idea of penning them up and making them do stupid tricks, but that's just me.

Blog envy

I've been reading some very nice style blogs, and I realize now more than ever that Rock the Silver® is anything but a style blog. I mean, really, the fake snake clutch/wallet shouldn't have been your first clue. I don't know what I am doing at all.

I only know I am getting older by the minute and want to BE my best and LOOK my best, and I thought I'd write about it (in case you are wanting the same). And maybe nobody else is encouraging you to race through midlife with style and authenticity. If not me, then who? Oh yeah, before I forget, I'd like to do it all with cool gray hair.

So, consider yourself warned: don't come here for serious fashion advice. You can come here from time to time and watch me play dress up, and I'm hopeful my attempts might inspire you to try something new ... to not limit yourself to baggy and black.  The rest of the time I am probably talking about hair, health, fitness or some other silly thing that seems to get harder with age.

I don't mind putting myself out there for the good of the cause. I think of it as reality TV only on a blog. Some crazy silver-haired chick has to do it. But I feel sad for those of you who really are struggling to find a fashionable look. I don't think I'm helping. Today, I offer the gift of links. These sites are lovely and sophisticated, and I think you will enjoy checking them out:

Privilege

Trying to Look Fab in your Forties

A Femme d'un Certain Age

Inside Out Style

Corporette

Be sure to come back when you're ready to hear from the whack job with silver hair who was raised by wolves and can't tell the difference between real diamonds and fake diamonds or $70 eyebrows and $20 eyebrows. We'll have fun trying to figure it all out.

Middle-aged mellow

A youngish woman I correspond with wrote that she'd had a meltdown that morning over what to wear to work. At least that's how it started, but it quickly morphed from anxiety over the clothes to anxiety over the body to being mad at the world in general, husbands in particular.

Seems like I remember what it was like to have hormones, and I do not miss that part of it. My husband doesn't miss it either. Not to be one of those women who dishes about menopause all the time, but the change is not all bad. I think of the line toward the end of the movie Young Frankenstein. The monster has been transformed, and he is thanking the doc for making him over with "a calmer brain and somewhat more sophisticated way of expressing myself."

The feeling is mutual!

I once broke my toe when I kicked a pile of clothes on the floor ... not realizing there was a drawer underneath. In a fit of anger, I punched the laundry room door of a rental house, where quality was not their name. The wood was cheap and thin, and my fist went right through. I told everyone my husband did it, because no one would believe I was capable of such a thing. 

Some of it is hormonal or perhaps a natural byproduct of aging, but it's easier being me these days. And maybe having been through the ringer a time or two. Whatever it is, a little flair, sassy gray hair and middle-aged mellow is good. If we do it right, this is the best time of our lives.

Being young was fun in a sick sort of way. I wouldn't go through all that again for anything. You?

What I wore to the party

Dress by Phoebe Couture. Since I saved $$ by not buying new shoes, I went to my favorite jewelry store and got these fabulous turquoise earrings, which I will wear again and again. I wore my hair in a modified Amy Winehouse. I liked it, although I don't think it looks all that great in this picture. What I liked especially is that it looked non-fixed, which was an improvement over the many helmet heads I saw last night. Still, I probably could have done better with my hair.

According to Stylish Young Coworker's theory of cost-per-wear, my Stuart Weitzman boots are getting cheaper by the minute.

The party was fun, and I'm glad I went. The thing I learned fashion-wise is to give yourself plenty of time and be patient. I tried the boots with the dress early on but always with black tights. I kept looking at it and wondering what was wrong. Finally, it occurred to me that I needed a peek of skin between the dress and the boots. I also like the idea of wearing the dress in warmer months with a strappy sandal. 

I had a great time people watching. Most of the women in my age group wore long flowy things. I don't know why age increases the long flowy quotient, but it does, and I don't like it much. We should be over body issues by now and wearing cool stuff that flatters us but doesn't look like we are trying too hard.

Saw two women with gorgeous silver hair, and they stood out in a sea of dyed blondes. I'm biased, of course, but silver really does rock!

Stress about the dress

I take back everything I said about being confident. I have no idea what I am doing. Not having fun. I'm stressing about the dress and thinking this fancy party attire racket is not for me. It is pouring rain today, and I am taking the dress to work so that Stylish Young Coworker can properly advise me on shoes. She wants to know if the dress is white or winter white. How the hell would I know?

Probably shouldn't go anywhere beer is served in a glass.

Little white dress

We've been invited to a huge social event, and I am hoping this doesn't go down the same as Little black dress. That was the party where we ended up at a table by ourselves, and I was wondering when the pig blood was going to drop.

I am feeling more confident these days. Embracing my silver hair and dressing with style has made me feel more comfortable in my skin. Not so worried about presenting myself socially anymore. I view this is an opportunity to showcase cool gray hair on the big stage!

Emergency call to Stylish Young Coworker. She was on it like Johnny Mission. I couldn't believe how fast she operates. Reconnaissance on what people wore last year. Links to outfits she thinks would look good. She even did a drive-by at Banana Republic to see what was in stock. All within 24 hours.

The dress we both liked was at Neiman's online, but I dilly dallied, and by the time I made up my mind to get it, it was gone. SYC was not amused. Her last words to me were said through gritted teeth before heading out for the weekend, "I hope you're going shopping. The party is next week."  

Yeah, yeah. I just haven't been in the mood. I think I have Seasonal Affective Disorder. It has been gloomy, wet and cold. I am grumpy and want to hang out in my jammies. In my case, it should be called Seasonal Asshole Disorder.

I had yesterday off, so I finally got up and out of the house to go shopping. I will say the lights at the mall are very bright, which is good for my SAD. Wish I'd realized this sooner. No wonder they call it retail therapy!  Here I am in the fitting room, snapping shots of different dresses with my iphone and emailing them to SYC for instant feedback.

   

She said the first one was just OK, but she loved the white. Later, she loved the dark blue wrap dress, which she said would look fab with the right jewelry. Later she said, let's talk. What is the cost per wear of each dress? If you only wear the white once a year and it's mega-pricey, screw it. The wrap is class. For the record, she said, my fav is white, but you need to consider CPW.

By this time, I've abandoned the white dress and am trying on stuff from the sale rack at Macy's. I'm about to buy a brown dress with little rows of nylon fringe all over it for $59, when I get a new email from SYC. She is at the hair salon, and it just so happens we share the same stylist. Sometimes this is too cozy for comfort.

Paige says get the white dress.  Screw the CPW. 

There you have it. SYC and my hairdresser agree. Who am I to argue? I buy the white dress. Now we are arguing over shoes. 

She Rocks: Ruth Flowers

Ruth Flowers hangs out in Europe's most famous nightclubs. That might seem odd for a 69-year-old grandmother from Bristol, England, but it comes with the territory when you are the DJ. On the dance floor, she is better known as Mamy Rock.

The story of Mamy Rock is legendary. She was widowed, and it was her grandson's birthday. He took her to a discotheque, where they almost didn't let her in because she was too old. But once through the doors, the music and dancing lit her soul. She said to herself, this is what I want to do with my life.

So she did it.

With her spiky silver hair and stylish bling, Ruth is rock star cool. But her spirit is what I see shining through. Ruth looks like she is having the time of her life! What I also see is more evidence that the party is not over.

Who knows what you will be when you grow up? 

(c) SPOA / Orel Simon - Photos by Marjorie Curty

(c) SPOA / Orel Simon - Photos by Marjorie Curty