Post by CM
I’m turning 30 on Sunday and I’m so excited, that I just can’t hide it! I’m so excited! I’m so excited, I’m so… scared.
Yes indeed, TM and I are turning the big Three-Oh and actually I’m mostly really quite fine with this transition – really, really fine with it. Really. It’s the beginning of a brand new era, and what better excuse than to do a little re-invention?
On every significant birthday I resolve to do a bit of an image over-haul, which barely ever works out. But this year I’m hoping it will stick; I will be entering my FOURTH DECADE of life, and would like to start dressing accordingly. It’s simple logic, like dressing for the job you want, not the job you have, so therefore once I start looking as chic and pulled together as Olivia Pope I’ll automatically be poised, mature and oh so sophisticated.
It’ll be great; bye bye twenties, so long bad youthful decisions. Just like Keira Knightly in Begin Again, I will begin again. As Olivia Pope. Who wants to be a youngster any more anyway, it’s so 15 years ago. Poor teenagers in 2014 have it rough – in my day we didn’t have Facebook and Twitter and Instagram to record all the embarrassing things we got up to. Sure, it was the age of the disposable camera, but still those photos could be, and were, disposed of. Teenage years are those in which fashion experimentation invariably begins, but those choices are usually best left to distant memory.
Not all of us were Blair or Serena from Gossip Girl, or Summer and Marissa from The OC. Or Jessie Spano. Most of us had disastorous hair cuts, spots, braces, weird growth spurts, rampant hormones, exam stress, boy stress, image stress. Like Olivia Wilde recently said (should I also change my name to Olivia to facilitate my new look?), turning 30 is the time to “cut the bullshit and go be awesome”. So even, as previous attempts predict, if my refined new style is less this:
And more this:
At least in my wise old(er) age I know it’s better to try, fail, admit defeat, try again and again and again. We have lessons to be learned from our mistakes in every stage of our lives, so instead of obsessing over a hideous gaff made years ago when a flashback brings it all flooding back, have a laugh at your silly young self, cut the bullshit, go be awesome, trip over your heels, do a little jig to show that tripping over your heels is a great excuse to burst into dance (because it is) and make a mental note that while a teenage dream’s so hard to beat,a grown-up’s esteem is… pretty neat?
Just listen to the song.