This morning, as I sat on the subway, lost in thought, a woman caught my attention. She was older than me, probably in her fifties or even sixties, wearing a mini-skirt with absolute confidence.
At first, I was taken aback. At 45, I had long convinced myself that mini-skirts were a thing of the past for me. There were unspoken rules about aging and fashion, weren’t there? Yet, here she was, effortlessly defying them.
As she adjusted the strap of her leather bag and glanced at her reflection in the subway window, I saw not just a woman in a mini-skirt but a woman who owned her choices.
She didn’t seem concerned about judgment or societal expectations. Instead, she exuded an infectious joy. She laughed with a stranger who had accidentally bumped into her, flashing a warm, genuine smile that softened even the grumpiest faces around her.
A group of teenagers nearby took notice, and rather than snickering, they exchanged approving glances, as if they, too, admired her fearless energy.
When her stop arrived, she stepped off with effortless elegance, her heels clicking confidently against the subway platform. I found myself still watching her as the doors slid shut, feeling an unfamiliar sense of admiration stirring within me.
I realized then that confidence is timeless. Who decides what is ‘appropriate’ anyway? Perhaps the only real rule is to wear what makes you feel happy. That woman on the subway wasn’t just wearing a mini-skirt; she was wearing her freedom.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll wear mine again too.