Something mildly alarming happened to me after the Robyn concert in Los Angeles last week. I was leaving the Forum, minding my own business, when a group of younger guys started shouting in my direction.
“Hey, silver daddy!” they cawed.
I kept walking.
“Silver daddy! Can we get a picture?” Then came the killer: “Please be my silver daddy!”
Excuse me?! My immediate reaction was somewhere between amusement and indignation. Silver? Daddy? I am not a daddy! I’m barely ready to be responsible for a houseplant. But about thirty seconds later, something occurred to me: what I had instinctively interpreted as “you look old,” they were very clearly intending as flattery. How lovely. Apparently, without anyone consulting me, I have entered my silver daddy era.
It got me thinking about the strange relationship men have with ageing. We spend an extraordinary amount of time trying to hold on to earlier versions of ourselves. We scrutinize the hairline, inspect the face in unforgiving bathroom lighting and occasionally wonder when exactly those lines around our eyes appeared.
And clothes can become part of that resistance too. There is a temptation to keep dressing as the man you were when you first figured out what suited you. If a particular look made you feel attractive at 28, why wouldn’t you still be reaching for some version of it at 38, 48 or 58?
But perhaps the real evolution of personal style begins when you stop trying to dress like your younger self. And no, I absolutely do not mean “dressing your age.” Few phrases depress me more. Getting older does not mean surrendering color, sneakers, trends, sexiness or fun for that matter. Nobody should be standing at the wardrobe asking whether they are still legally permitted to wear a certain pair of trousers after 40.
George and Amal Clooney (Patrick McMullan)
The distinction is subtler. George Clooney put it rather well when he told the BBC in 2015: “I’m a big believer in the idea that you can’t try to look younger. You just have to look the best you can at the age you are.” Admittedly, being George Clooney probably helps. But there’s something liberating about that thought. I still want to look good. I care about my clothes, my skin and whether I’ve had enough sleep. There’s pleasure in making an effort without treating every sign of age as something to correct.
Similarly, there is a difference between dressing with youthful energy and dressing because you desperately want to appear younger. In fact, one of the great advantages of getting older is that your style should become better. By now, you have evidence. You know which shapes work on your body. You know the difference between something you genuinely love and something you have been persuaded to buy because everyone else suddenly owns it. You understand that fit matters more than a label and that one brilliant jacket can do considerably more for you than ten mediocre ones.
Most importantly, you have references. Your personal style becomes an accumulation of everywhere you have been, everyone you have admired, every fashion mistake you have made and every version of yourself you have already tried on. Maybe that is what those guys outside the Robyn concert saw before I did. The grey is not something I need to disguise or compensate for. It is simply part of the person I am dressing now.
Which brings me to what I’m wearing now. If the goal is no longer to dress younger, but simply to dress better, I find myself increasingly drawn to pieces that have personality without trying too hard. Great fabric, an interesting proportion, a beautifully made shoe, something with enough character to make an outfit feel considered.
So in the spirit of embracing my newly appointed Silver Daddy status, here are a few things currently catching my eye.
Leather belted field jacket, BANANA REPUBLIC, $1,200
Relaxed fit shirt, SUIT SUPPLY, $139
Suede Mock Collar Bomber Jacket, THOM SWEENEY, $5,685
Maybe that’s one of the pleasures of getting older. You stop asking, “Does this make me look younger?” and start asking the considerably more useful question: “Do I look good?”
As for the silver daddy thing, give me a minute. But if getting older means becoming more comfortable in my clothes, more confident in my own skin and, apparently, more appealing to men outside Robyn concerts, I think I’ll take it.
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