You and I Are Too Old Not to Gift Ourselves with a "Glimmer": Wisdom From a Reader

Too Old for This Sh*t: How to Take Your Life Back from an Ageist Society

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Who has to give you permission? Nobody but yourself

Early this morning Substacker

Lise Brun

wrote a comment on my story A Soft Brown Woman in a Flowery Dress. It was so striking I had to share it, with a story of my own to underscore her points:

Most of us spend a lifetime comparing our body to others. Or, should I wear this or that? For what?

Two summers ago I bought a soft-colored, light violet, straw-hat (to protect my already super wrinkled face) at the Dollar Store. I lost my courage to wear it....but eventually started going out with it. Cause, you know, really, who gives a F***!

You can't imagine all the compliments I get when I wear that hat. The first time I wore it, I got 3 compliments before I made it out of my building. HAHAHA

As it turns out, this hat has become a great source of glimmers for me. Glimmers - when I get a big kick out of something - take time to really, really, absorb it - and then, replay it in my mind later and laugh all over again.

I'm going to play now...might even buy a flowered dress! (author bolded)

Glimmer: late Middle English: probably of Scandinavian origin; related to Swedish glimra and Danish glimre. Those living in the far North know something of deep cold and snow, so when there is a glimmer of sun on the horizon, a touch of hope, there is much to celebrate.

However, I read Lise’s use of the word glimmer here in a very different way, more like a glamour, which is defined as

an attractive or exciting quality that makes certain people or things seem appealing

For people who have fun with magic, words like glimmer and glamour are shot through with joy and excitement.

Like Lise’s lavender hat.

When are you going to dress yourself the way you bloody well want to? When are you and I going to stop asking permission to be ourselves, to be outrageous or whatever it is we desire? Been there.

In 1983 I found myself in Australia, where I ended up staying and working for the better part of four years. I also hitched my way solo around that enormous country, explored, learned to fly ultralights and scuba dived the Great Barrier Reef.

I earned the right to be adventurous.

Along the way I fell in love with the Aussie hats, of which there are a few, but the drover hat was my favorite. It’s the hat that Tom Burlinson wears in Man From Snowy River, an Aussie classic. That movie was one of the reasons I was Down Under in the first place.

I love that hat. LOVE that hat. Far more than I love the ten-gallon Stetson of the American West, the drover hat spoke to my soul. Snowy River had changed my life forever. That hat was MY glimmer from the movie and four years of living the life in Oz, New Zealand and Fiji.

So I bought one, in leather, and brought it home. Never wore it. One reason was that it was too damned small and gave me a headache. The other is that I felt foolish. What would people think?

Fast forward a few decades. With luck, you eventually get old enough to not care as much. I also realized, as I’ve aged, that some of the classiest people I know wear hats. Those hats look terrific. Part of their style. In my case, I’ve got a “hat head.” Hats tend to look good on me.

Why am I allowing my overheated imagination about other people’s opinions which do NOT MATTER to keep me from living my funnest life?

from Redditt

I began to invest in hats. I even had a replica of the topper above, the one that Titanic star Rose Winslet wore the first time we saw her. Yes, I wore it out at night to big events, yes, you need a WIDE door to get through, yes it’s magnificent and fun and it screams LOOK AT ME.

It takes balls to wear a hat like that. I have no clue where I grew them but I did.

But that was only for special events and dress up. What about every day?

OMG what will people say?

I’ve bought hats from all over the world. They sit on my shelves and in boxes.

For crying out loud already. WEAR THEM.

Not long ago I finally bought another drover, this time to fit my actual skull. It was a beauty, too, tanned leather just waiting to get well-used. The hat brought back all the memories of that movie. Even though I have to trade it for a helmet when mounted, the hat was a reminder of what had motivated me to engage in a four-year-long adventure which changed me forever.

I finally, slowly, started to wear it. Wore it to El Paso for a conference, where the hat disappeared in the TSA machine in Denver, never to be seen again.

That’s all right. I’m going to replace it. I’m going to wear hats. I like hats, I look good in hats and BY GOD THAT’S A GLIMMER FOR ME.

I can’t replace the way I feel when I wear hats. It’s a signature for me now, as I increasingly move past the point where I no longer give a flying you- know-what about what people think.

Lise enjoys every moment of glimmer and glamour that her lavender hat affords her. And I enjoy every moment of glimmer and glamour- and indeed for us both practical sun protection- that my hats give me.

These little glimmers and glamours lead to more. Start with something small. Start with something that feels like breaking some damned fool rule that your Mother made (no white after Labor Day!! No long hair after thirty!)

Live your life, not one proscribed by others. Just do it now.

Let’s play.

Photo by Proper Quality Shandis on Unsplash

Photo by M k on Unsplash

So many thanks for all of you whose quotes inspire me to share more. A writer’s biggest asset is her readers who take the time to comment, and I so appreciate the wisdom gleaned that I can pass along. If this article was fun for you please consider

If you know someone with a hat collection or similar, who doesn’t indulge, kindly consider

Time is passing us by. Wear the damned thing.