From My Closet To Yours

A monthly letter from Christian Graffagnino about style, confidence, and the seasons of life.

The Older I Get, the More I Want to Look Like Myself

I have always loved birthdays, and in our house, September gives us plenty of opportunity to celebrate. I affectionately call it Birthday Palooza because all four of us - my husband, our two boys and me - have birthdays within 29 days of each other. It's a lot of birthdays, a lot of celebrating and, depending on the year, probably a lot of cake. And I love it!

There is something special about setting aside a day to celebrate a person simply because they're here. And while it certainly feels wonderful when the people we love make us feel celebrated, I've come to believe there is also something beautiful about learning how to celebrate the life God has given us for ourselves.

This year, I'm turning 46, and maybe birthdays naturally make us a little reflective because lately I've been thinking about all the versions of myself I've dressed along the way. Some make me smile. Some make me think: Girl, what in the world were you wearing? And others remind me just how much experimenting it can take to figure out who we are and what feels like us.

Then there are the things I wore simply because someone else was wearing them and my goodness they were cute...waaaayyy before the influencer age.

I remember being in eighth or ninth grade and desperately wanting a particular pair of jeans because my best friend had them. I couldn't tell you the brand today if you paid me, but apparently they were very important to teenage Christian. I remember telling my Granny about them, and in true Granny fashion, she basically said, “Come on, let's go shopping.” Off we went to Maison Blanche to find those jeans.

I love that memory now, and not because of the jeans. I can't remember the brand, what they cost or even what happened to them. What I remember is Granny taking something that mattered to me seriously enough to take me shopping for it.

And maybe there's a little lesson in that, too. The thing I thought I HAD TO HAVE because my best friend had it has disappeared completely from my memory, but the person who made me feel loved while I was figuring myself out hasn't.

That's what we do when we're young, isn't it? We look around. We borrow ideas. We try things on - clothing, trends, identities, expectations - and slowly begin discovering what belongs to us. If I'm being fair, I don't think we ever completely stop doing that. I certainly haven't. My hair alone could probably provide the evidence....iykyk.

I've had gray hair since eighth grade, something that apparently dates back to my great-grandmother - or so says my mom. But the gray has certainly not been the most adventurous part of my hair history. I've had half my head shaved. I've done the spiky look. There was purple. I've grown it out, changed it again and spent plenty of time figuring out what I wanted it to be next. Apparently I've never been particularly interested in giving my hair a long-term contract.

Some experiments were more successful than others, but the purple was creatively fun, and honestly, I think there should always be room for that. Not everything we try has to become part of our signature style. Sometimes experimenting is simply how we discover what is - and isn't - us.

At 46, I'm Still Becoming

Maybe that's why I don't think getting older has to mean becoming more "fixed." In many ways, I feel more open now because I know myself better. I'm more confident in who I am and in how I show up. I know more clearly what I want than I did 10 or 20 years ago, and that knowledge has helped me create guardrails around my life. Not that I stay inside them perfectly - let's not get carried away - but I recognize them much faster now.

I've noticed that I react differently, too. My faith has taught me to step back more often and ask what God might be doing in something before deciding what I think it means. I'm certainly not saying I do that perfectly either, but age and maturity have given me a little more willingness to sit with things before reacting to them.

Of course, maturity doesn't mean everything about getting older is suddenly delightful. Hello, perimenopause. Nice of you to join us.

There are physical changes, emotional changes, doctor's appointments, conversations and all sorts of adjustments that come with this particular season of being a woman. Apparently becoming more comfortable with yourself does not mean your hormones have agreed to cooperate. What has changed is the way I'm learning to approach myself through all of it. I'm better at giving myself grace. I'm less interested in chasing some arbitrary version of who I thought I was supposed to become, and more interested in caring well for the woman I actually am.

That carries into my closet, too. When it comes to getting dressed, I'm increasingly interested in something that sounds simple but has taken me years to understand: I want to look like myself.

But What Does “Looking Like Yourself” Mean?

Of course, “myself” isn't just one thing because, like most women, I carry a lot of roles. I am Christian, but I am also a child of God, a wife, a mother, a family member, a friend, a business owner, a stylist, a colleague, a volunteer and a community partner. Depending on the day, several of those versions of me may need to show up before lunch.

Those roles matter. They come with different responsibilities, different environments and sometimes different expectations for how I should present myself. What I've come to realize, though, is that the roles may change without the woman underneath them needing to change.

I don't want a “business Christian” costume, a “wife Christian” costume, a “church Christian” costume and another version of myself for lunch with my girlfriends. First of all, that sounds exhausting. More importantly, I want there to be a recognizable thread running through all of them....me...the real me.

If you have ever heard me speak, something I've said for years while educating comes in: we are walking billboards. Before we ever say a word, what we're wearing is already communicating something. Clothing certainly doesn't tell the whole story of who we are, but it gives us an opportunity to make what we're communicating on the outside more consistent with who we know ourselves to be on the inside.

For me, that means there is room for more than one expression. There is a quirky, playful part of me that says, give me the big floral, give me a fabulous pin - or two or three - especially one from my vintage collection, and give me something unexpected. There is also a polished, chic part of me that wants to walk into a room looking credible, capable and put together. Those aren't competing versions of me. They're both me.

When I enter a room, I want people to sense that I'm approachable and fun, but I also want them to know I'm credible, that I know what I'm talking about and that I respect both myself AND the room I've entered. And somewhere in there, I'd love for someone to look at me and think, she seems interesting. I'd like to know more.

I think that's a beautiful part of personal style when it's truly personal. It doesn't reduce you to one aesthetic; it gives all the different parts of you a visual language.

Trends Are Not Friends

I recently heard someone say, “Trends are not friends,” and it made me laugh because, while I wouldn't go quite that far, I understand the point. I don't think trends are the enemy. Fashion should be fun, and I still enjoy experimenting with something new. The difference is that the older I get, the less authority I'm willing to give a trend simply because someone somewhere has declared, This is what we're wearing now.

I've also lived long enough to watch things I got rid of come back into style - sometimes more than once. That alone will humble you.

The same goes for many of fashion's old rules. No white after Labor Day? We've moved on. A woman of a certain age “shouldn't” wear this or “needs” to wear that? My immediate response is: tell me about the woman first.

Put three women of exactly the same age in front of me and I could be looking at three completely different lives. One may be reinventing herself professionally. Another may finally have the freedom she's spent decades waiting for. The third may be walking through a transition she never expected. Their birth certificates may say the same age, but their wardrobes may need to tell three entirely different stories.

So when a woman comes to me and says, “I don't know how I'm supposed to dress anymore,” I don't want to hand her a list of rules for women over 40, 50, 60 or anything else. Honestly, if age were enough information for me to style someone, my job would be boring.

Instead, I want to say, Girl, let's talk about you. What lights you up? What excites you? What have you always wanted to try? What does your life actually look like now, and what do you want to communicate when you walk into it?

And if she doesn't know yet, that's okay. We experiment. That's part of the fun. I promise I'm not going to let her go out looking crazy.

Looking Younger Isn't the Same as Looking Like Yourself

Maybe that's also why I've become increasingly uncomfortable with the idea that the goal of getting dressed as we age should be to look younger. There can be tremendous pressure on women to stay young - or at least appear that we are - which is particularly interesting coming from someone who started going gray in eighth grade...apparently my hair decided to get a significant head start on the rest of me.

Sometimes that pressure shows up through clothing. We adopt what younger women are wearing because we think it will somehow make us look younger too, without stopping to ask whether that trend can be interpreted in a way that actually suits our body, personality and life. Other times, it has nothing to do with clothing at all. It may be our hair, our skin, our bodies or the treatments we choose.

I want to tread gently here because I'm not interested in creating a new set of rules telling women what they should or shouldn't do to feel beautiful. If a treatment, a great haircut, a fabulous outfit - or whatever else - helps you feel wonderful and confident in your own skin, that is your decision. I just think there is a worthwhile question underneath all of those choices: Am I doing this because it feels like me, or because I'm afraid of what happens if I don't?

For me, those are two very different motivations. I don't want my goal to be looking like a younger version of myself. I want to look like the best, most authentic version of the woman I am becoming...and just maybe that requires a little help or a new pair of shoes.

Before I Dress My Body, I Want to Dress My Character

And this is where, for me, the conversation about identity has to go deeper than clothing. The older I get, the more aware I become that the most important things I put on every morning aren't hanging in my closet.

Colossians 3:12–14 has become such an anchor for me because of the order in which it speaks about identity. We are chosen, holy and dearly loved, and then we are told to clothe ourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience, forgiveness and, above all, love.

I love that my identity is established before the getting dressed begins. Before wife, before mother, before business owner, before stylist, before all the roles I carry and all the things I accomplish - or don't accomplish - on a given day, I am His. That doesn't erase those other roles. It puts them in their proper place.

Knowing that takes some of the pressure off what I put on my physical body. I don't have to use clothing to prove that I am worthy, beauty to earn value or appearance to manufacture an identity God has already given me. Instead, before I worry too much about what my body is wearing, I can ask myself, What is my character wearing today?

Some mornings, if we're being truthful, compassion fits beautifully. Other mornings, patience needs a little tailoring. I'm a work in progress, too.

And the more grounded I become in that internal identity, the more freedom I feel with the external one. Style can become expression rather than validation. Beauty can be something I enjoy rather than something I have to achieve. Clothing can be something I steward rather than something I use to prove myself.

Another Year, More Myself

I've learned a great deal from the women I've had the privilege of styling, especially women who have lived more life than I have. They've shown me that getting older can be done gracefully, joyfully and with tremendous respect for the woman you've become. They've also reminded me that age doesn't get to decide how much life you still have in you. One of the things I've learned from them is that you're as young as you think you are.

At 46, there are plenty of things I'm still figuring out. And I'm becoming increasingly suspicious that this may simply be adulthood - that every time you figure out one thing, God hands you something else to grow through.

I'm feeling that in a very real way right now as our youngest begins college. Motherhood doesn't stop, but the role shifts. The rhythms change. You find yourself learning how to be a mother in a season you've never mothered through before. And somehow, while you're helping your children step into who they're becoming, God has a way of continuing to work on who you're becoming, too.

There are things I want to learn, gifts I want to steward better and places in my faith where I want to grow deeper. I want to become more spiritually aware of what God has entrusted to me and more courageous about using it. I want the people around me to see Christ through the way I live, not simply through the things I say. I want to become a better steward of my time, talents and resources, and I want to become better in the many roles I've been given while also becoming braver about speaking up for what I need and what I know to be true.

And yes, I'm sure I'll continue experimenting with my wardrobe - and probably my hair - along the way. There will probably be future photographs that remind me of exactly what I was curious enough to try in that season, and I actually hope so because I don't think becoming more yourself means you stop playing, creating, trying or changing.

Maybe that's one of the gifts of getting older. You don't have to have yourself completely figured out. You just get better at recognizing when something feels like you and when it doesn't.

I don't want another year to make me more afraid of standing out, and I don't want getting older to make me disappear. I don't even particularly want it to make me look younger. I want another year to make me look more like myself: more confident in what belongs, more gracious about what has changed, more willing to release what no longer fits, more curious about what comes next, and more grounded in the truth that before I ever decide what to wear, I am already chosen, holy and dearly loved.

Gray hair, big florals, vintage pins, a little creative experimenting and all.

That feels like something worth celebrating.

Happy birthday to me.

Until next month,

Less Stressed. Better Dressed.

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