A letter from a reader

At 67, I had given up trying to make separate bits look like an outfit

I have never written anything like this before, and I want to say at the start that I am not a writer and I am not in the habit of telling other women what to wear.

But four different women asked me about this outfit at a garden party here in Cheshire on Saturday, and I have now explained it enough times that it seemed easier to write it down properly.

It started, as it always did, in front of the open wardrobe. I was already late, holding one thing up against another in the mirror, putting both back, and reaching for the same dark trousers I reach for every time.

Nothing in there was an outfit. It was all separate bits that never quite went together.

A top that was fine on its own. Trousers that were fine on their own. But held up together they never once looked like I had decided anything. They looked like I had grabbed whatever was to hand, which, most mornings, I had.

I did not choose to dress like that. That is the part I want to be clear about. Nobody decides to own a wardrobe full of odd pieces. It happens quietly, one sensible top and one sensible pair of trousers at a time, until one day you realise you have a great deal in there and nothing that actually goes.

How it happens

I used to be able to put myself together without thinking. In my thirties I had a knack for it, and I never once stood in front of a mirror feeling defeated by ten o'clock.

What changed was not me. It was the shops.

Somewhere along the way the high street stopped selling outfits and started selling odds and ends. You go in for something to wear and you come out with another top that goes with nothing, another pair of trousers in the same safe shade, all of it sold to you one lonely piece at a time. Putting it together into something is left entirely to you, at home, in a hurry.

And once that is all there is, you stop expecting anything better. You reach for the dark trousers and the loose top because they are safe, not because they are you. Nobody says anything, which is rather the point.

What I had wrong

Here is the bit I got most wrong, and I think a lot of us have.

I thought the problem was me. I thought I had simply lost whatever eye I used to have for pulling things together, and that other women my age just knew a trick I had forgotten.

It turns out it was never that.

The reason nothing went together was that nothing was ever meant to. I was buying single pieces and asking them to behave like an outfit, and they were never going to, no matter how long I stood there holding them up.

The thing that changed everything was letting the going-together be somebody else's job. Two pieces made to be worn as one, in colours that already agree with each other, so getting dressed becomes one decision instead of three. It reads as a decision because it was one. That is the whole difference, and it took me until 67 to work it out.

It is called the Aurelyssa

It is from Manchester Boutique, a small British boutique that has been quietly dressing women our age for a few years now.

It is called the Aurelyssa. A two-piece set in a soft sky blue, a sleeveless layered top with wide-leg trousers in a pretty leaf print, calm and fresh and elegant. The two pieces come together and they are made to go together, so the deciding is already done for you.

It is light, which in the last few weeks has mattered more than I expected. The top drapes softly over the middle rather than clinging, and the wide-leg trousers are easy to move in and cover everything I would rather not discuss. The soft blue print does all the work, so you look considered without having done anything clever.

That is really all there is to it. It is not complicated. It is just an outfit that somebody thought about, so I did not have to.

What happened at the garden party

I wore it for the first time to a garden party here in Cheshire, with flat sandals and my good earrings.

Four women asked me where it was from. Four. One of them was Ann, who I have known since our children were at primary school and who has never once commented on anything I have worn.

She said I looked like I had made an effort for once. I have decided to take that as a compliment.

What I noticed more than the compliments, though, was that I forgot about it. I did not spend the afternoon tugging at anything or wondering whether it all still matched. I sat down, I ate a very large piece of cake, and I did not think about what I had on once.

The next day I put the trousers back on with a plain top of my own and felt completely myself. That is the rarest sort of thing. The one you can wear to something nice and then split up and wear all week, and feel right either way.

Three things I have learned since

One. Getting dressed is one decision now. Not three. I do not stand there holding things up any more, because the choosing was done before it ever reached me. It is a small thing and it changes the whole start of the day.

Two. You stop thinking about the bits you would rather not. The top skims instead of clinging and the wide leg is easy and covers what I want covered. There is no adjusting, no checking, no wondering. I simply forget about it, which is the whole point.

Three. It goes both ways. Worn together for something nice, or split up and worn separately all week with the rest of your things. It is really two outfits pretending to be one, and I did not expect that when I ordered it.

About the price

I want to be straightforward about this, because it was the thing that made me suspicious.

The Aurelyssa is £37.95. It was £76.00.

My first thought, honestly, was that there had to be a catch, because you can walk into any high street shop and pay more than that for a single top that goes with nothing you own.

There is no catch that I have found. They are a small boutique selling directly, so there is no department store taking a cut in the middle, and they run a summer sale to shift the season's stock before it turns.

I did what I imagine you are doing now and went and read the reviews before I ordered. Just over three hundred of them, sitting at 4.2 stars. Not the suspiciously perfect five you see on some websites, which if I am honest made me trust it rather more. The same thing kept coming up. One woman had written, "It looks like I spent a fortune and planned an outfit, and I pulled two pieces off a hanger." That was the one that decided it for me.

Then I went back and ordered a second one to keep for best.

What I would tell you if we were friends

If you and I were sat in the garden and you asked me, this is what I would say.

If you have spent the last few years standing in front of the wardrobe every morning trying to make separate pieces look like an outfit, not because you like the standing there but because that is all the shops have left you with, then it is worth ten minutes of your evening to go and look.

Not because one outfit will change your life. It will not. But there is something in getting dressed in the morning and recognising yourself, without the fuss, that I had quietly given up on, and I would rather you did not give up on it too.

Two practical things. The sale is on at the moment, and the middle sizes are the ones that go first, which I found out the hard way when I went back. And once the summer stock has sold through, that is it until next year.

I have not stood in front of that wardrobe holding things up since.

Maggie