Now that I’m in my fifties, I see my style differently and think I know why. What I wear isn’t about matching, impressing, or following a rule book anymore. It’s about ease, comfort, and feeling like myself: finally, unapologetically. But it took a long time to get here and it feels as if I have had a real AHA moment. I know that sounds dramatic but it’s apart of my growing up in age.
As a kid growing up, my mom took dressing me, and my siblings seriously. Church on Sundays and family functions were full scale all the way up productions. Lol #notjoking
Days before, she’d be pressing our hair, bleaching our white baby doll socks, and laying out those frilly dresses with petticoats that made sitting down a challenge. Everything had to be clean, crisp, and perfectly ironed. I can still hear the sound of that steam hissing from the iron, smell the starch in the air, and feel the slight sting of that hot comb grazing my ear. Those were the days. But, yall my momma did it. Not to mention the oiled up with royal crown grease or vaseline on our face sealed the whole look. Never one moment of being ashy kneaded either. Lol ( if you grew up in a black home in the 70’s you know what I am saying is the solid truth.)
When I think about it now, I realize style wasn’t just about looking nice, it was about presentation, pride, and love. And before I go any further I am thankful for those times because they built me into the woman I am now.
Because, back then, style was an act of care and it was how my mom taught us to look good no matter what you are going through in life..
My mother didn’t just dress us up; she sent us out into the world polished, prepared, and poised. That was her way of saying, “You matter.” (Thank God, Momma I got it now).
But as I got older, something changed. Somewhere between raising my own kids, running my business, and finding time to just breathe, I forgot what it felt like to enjoy getting dressed. Style became something practical a checklist item before walking out the door. Until recently, I didn’t even notice how much I missed that feeling of excitement that came with clothes, colors, and expression. And, social media lit that fire for me, because as an ex-hairstylist I was always making sure the other woman looked good and sometimes , afters hours of work I put myself last. Not on purpose but time was moving by so fast I could barely keep up.
So, as of now, I’m circling back. I call it style-ness the art of reconnecting with how I want to feel, not just how I want to look.
Style-ness isn’t about what’s trending. It’s not about the latest “must-have” or the rules we grew up hearing about what women our age should or shouldn’t wear. It’s that sweet spot where confidence meets creativity. It’s about pulling something from your closet that makes you feel seen even if nobody else understands it. And that’s on Trill Burgers. :)
Honestly, In my mother’s generation, style was about preparation and the perfection of neatness. In mine, it’s about presence. I don’t want to just look good; I want to feel alive in what I’m wearing. I want my clothes to tell my story where I’ve been, who I’ve loved, and what I’ve learned.
When I reach for a bag I make myself from old denim or slip on a funky pair of shoes that nobody else would dare wear, it’s not showing its reclamation. It’s me saying, “This is my version of beauty.”
I also realize how much of my style feelings was shaped by those early days of starch, bows, and shiny black shoes. Those memories live in my love for detail, for adding a little something extra, for taking time to make it mine. But instead of ribbons and patent leather, it’s layers of denim, jewelry, and funky textures now.
And if you’re reading this wondering when your own sense of style shifted:trust me, it happens quietly and over time. You wake up one morning and realize you’ve been dressing for everyone but yourself. You’ve been trying to fit a version of beauty that doesn’t even fit your life anymore.
That’s when style-ness starts.
It starts when you stop overthinking and start feeling. When you grab the jacket that makes you smile or the skirt that sways the way you walk through life. When you remember that your body, your age, your curves, all of it: is worth celebrating.
Sometimes, I think about how funny it is that what once felt like pressure now feels like permission. As a kid, I had to wear what was picked out for me. Now, as a grown woman, I get to wear what the funk I want, That’s a gift I no longer take for granted.
So, here’s what I’ve learned: style doesn’t have an age limit, a price tag, or a rulebook. It just has a heartbeat with a personal vibe. (#YourVibe) And when you listen closely, it will tell you exactly what to wear.
Maybe your style-ness is in a pair of thrifted jeans, a handmade bag, or a dress that reminds you of joy or something from your past. Maybe it’s a mix of it all. Whatever it is, own it, live in it, and let it evolve with you.
Because at this stage in life, fashion fades but authenticity shines. And nothing, absolutely nothing, feels better than walking through the world dressed in your own truth.
Think back to your childhood what’s one thing your family taught you about “looking nice”? Now, what does “looking like you” mean today?
Join the conversation and leave a comment. Share your “In Pursuit of Style-Ness” story or post your look with #WearWhatTheFunkYouWant. Let’s celebrate the beauty of becoming and dressing exactly as who we are.
Until Next Time: Wear What The Funk You want and That’s On Every Funky Thang!
Xo, Tangie Bell
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