WHO DECIDED YOU HAVE TO DRESS YOUR AGE ?

A few weeks ago, I saw a viral tweet that read: "How are you 27 and still attending raves?"

It was said casually, as if having fun came with an expiration date.

I've started noticing how often we say versions of this to ourselves. I'm too old for that now. I don't dress like that anymore. People my age don't do that.

Nobody wakes up one morning and becomes the "old unc."

It happens gradually. A comment here, a relationship there, a small adjustment to what seems appropriate. You drop something because someone called it childish. You stop going out because you've supposedly outgrown it. You stop dancing, stop experimenting, stop making the silly gestures.

Eventually you've edited yourself into someone you never consciously chose to be.

WHEN AGE STARTS DRESSING YOU

Fashion sits right in the middle of this, because clothes are one of the easiest ways society tells us who we're supposed to be at a given age. There's what you wear at 20, what you "graduate" into at 30, and what you're meant to retire altogether.

The older you get, the more your wardrobe is expected to reflect responsibility: less playful, less weird, more sensible, more expensive, more "grown."

But style has never really worked that way. Some of the most interesting people I know didn't get more conventional with age. They just got better at being themselves, and more intentional about it. Growing up should mean knowing yourself better, not becoming less of yourself. You can evolve without becoming predictable and mature without becoming boring. Somewhere along the way, we started confusing maturity with restriction.

KEEP WHAT STILL FEELS LIKE YOU

We also spend far too much time picturing ourselves through other people's eyes.

What will they think if I wear this? Will I look childish? What if I'm the oldest person there? People will build their own version of you from whatever little they know, and you can either spend your life managing that version or accept you never had control over it. The second option is far more freeing. Maybe that's another part of growing up: caring less about being understood by everyone.

So wear the thing. Go to the rave. Make the stupid hand sign. Put on something slightly ridiculous because you like it. Keep the old jacket, try the new silhouette, go wherever you actually want to go.

Not to prove you're young, and not to prove you're different. Just because you still like it.

There's something strangely sad about finally becoming "appropriate" enough for everyone else and barely recognizing yourself. If, at 35, you're still doing things that make your 25-year-old self smile, that might not be immaturity. That might be the point.

Growing older is inevitable. Growing out of yourself isn't.