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What do you think is sexy dressing for grown-up women?
You see, just like our presidential candidates, I, too, am blessed with two wonderful daughters, two thoroughly modern young women starting great careers and romances. For their twenty-first birthdays I stopped giving them advice-well, unsolicited advice-about what to wear . . . which is just about the time the tables turned and they started to counsel me. "Fifty is the new 30, Mom; 60 is the new 40," they insist. And they are urging me, a fairly recent divorcee, to redefine my idea of what is sexy now and update my wardrobe accordingly. At first I thought this probably was just a ploy to raid my closet again for what they call "vintage" and I call "my clothes," but my daughters made their point. If I am only as old as I feel, and I feel quite energetic in all aspects of my life-all aspects, Mrs. Exeter-then how do I dress?
I've been watching the various awards shows on television lately, and celebrities, with few exceptions, really are useless advisers. Neither they nor their stylists seem to have a clue about the difference between what is sexy and what is risque. And risque is "so last season," if I may borrow some fashion-speak.
On the other hand, "granny looks" a la Margaret Thatcher, courtesy of designers like Marc Jacobs and so alluring on young women my daughters' age, would never ignite any sparkle for me. So what is sexy, Mrs. Exeter, or do you find the entire question hopelessly tacky? If so, I apologize.
We all saw Oh! Calcutta! when it came to Broadway, and everyone onstage was grindingly naked. Then there was Hair. (Actually, I can't remember which play came first in the sixties.) Later, we all saw Deep Throat and laughed about it after, at dinner. Today's celebrities in designer pasties at awards shows? Just a lot of flash in an old pan. I may be stunned by the likes of Paris Hilton's parents and people who guzzle gas in those ridiculous Hummers, but nothing shocks me anymore except random acts of kindness.