By . Sarah Chalmers . There's a picture buried in my family photo album that makes me recoil in horror. It shows a dowdy woman squinting uncertainly at the camera, her matronly Laura Ashley floral dress and frizzy perm clearly doing nothing for either her figure or her self-confidence. But this picture isn’t of an elderly aunt or frumpy family friend — it’s me, at a 21st birthday party in 1990. Yes, at a time when I should have been looking my most youthful  and radiant, I was more middle-aged than I am now — lamb dressed as mutton, if you will — and sadly I remained that way for the next 20 years. Lamb dressed as mutton: On her 21st birthday Sarah looked more middle-aged than she does now . It’s only now, aged 45, that I am finally at ease with how I look. In fact, I’m regularly mistaken for a younger woman, thanks to a wardrobe stuffed with skinny jeans and fitted jackets from fashion-forward stores such as Cos, Whistles and teenager’s favourite H&M. I even have a trendy gamine haircut. In many ways, it seems, I’ve actually aged backwards. And I’m not alone: something dramatic has happened to older women like me who, according to  a recent survey of 2,000 adults,  commissioned by healthcare provider Benenden Health, believe middle age begins at 53. Armed with a disposable income and constantly bombarded with images of eternally youthful  stars such as Amanda Holden  (muttony at 20, foxy at 40) we’ve gritted our teeth and made the best of ourselves. Perhaps it’s the sudden shock of the first wrinkle or, conversely, the growing confidence to take risks that sees so many of us deciding to defer growing old: a last-ditch attempt to recapture the youth that’s slowly slipping out of our grasp. Ageing in reverse: Aged 45 Sarah is finally at ease with how she looks, and feels younger than ever . The once-frumpy, now never-badly dressed Emma Thompson seemed to have a style revelation at a similar age. When she finally left behind the cropped hair and combat pants she was once known for, and started turning up to red carpet events in slinky Maria Grachvogel in 2004, she explained her transformation: ‘I will be 45 years old this year and I don’t have many more years left to be glamorous.’ Buying online and easy returns have also eroded the middle-aged woman’s bugbear of communal changing rooms, with their unforgiving, unflatteringly lit mirrors. No wonder recent figures showed 86 per cent of women aged 45 to 54 had made at least one online fashion purchase in the past six months, and more of us than ever are shopping in trendy ‘youth’ stores such as H&M and New Look. Revelation: Actress Emma Thompson has left behind her days of cropped hair and combat pants . Compare that with my 20s, when my achingly earnest generation of women were so desperate to be taken seriously that we saw fashion as frivolous and deemed not making an effort to be ‘cool’. And since the generation before us — who had been born in the post-war Forties — had barely experienced teenage years, far less the middle youth that now keeps adults in semi-adolescence until they are almost 50, no precedent had been set for anything other than sensible dressing from  21 onwards. My mum, Ruth, was typical. A radiographer from Fife who stopped working when my older sister, Debbi, and I were born in her early 20s, she had a pathological fear of looking like mutton dressed as lamb. She refused to wear ‘denim jeans’ after the age of 30 for the same reason, and I absorbed her values. So it’s no surprise that I have another picture of me, a year after leaving Edinburgh University, in my first job as a reporter, wearing a russet trouser suit from Austin Reed that completely drowns my 25-year-old figure and looks at least two sizes too big. My day-to-day working wardrobe was usually bought at middle-aged favourites such as C&A, M&S or, if I was pushing the boat out, Principles and Laura Ashley. My casual style was no better: it consisted of baggy sweatshirts and shapeless jeans and my make-up regime was nothing but mascara and lipstick. No wonder I once suffered the indignity of having a taxi driver mistake me for my friend’s mother, accompanying her to a university open day. And it’s just as well I was focused on my studies as I doubt I was turning many heads. Somehow, in my mid-30s, I finally found a man willing to look past my shoulder pads and knee-length skirts. My husband, Jem, a children’s author, 45, professes, typically, that he didn’t notice what I was wearing unless it was short. Getting shirty: A wardrobe stuffed with skinny jeans and fitted shirts and jackets has seen Sarah go from frumpy to foxy . Shopping for a wedding dress took me inside high-end designer shops and department stores for the first time, but these sartorial stirrings were put on hold again between the ages of 35 and 39, when I was either pregnant with my son, Freddie, now eight, and my twins, Bobby and Loulou, six, or in a sleep-deprived fog. But then, suddenly, everything changed. My eldest started school and the younger two began sleeping through the night. I remember standing in front of the mirror, in cords and a sweatshirt, meeting my reflection’s eyes and realising that I’d spent my entire life on my career and nurturing others. Two billion T-shirts are sold around the world each year . I suddenly wanted to be frivolous for the first time. I was 42 by the time my twins started school and, faced with 20-something mums in the playground, I was determined never to be mistaken for their granny. Slowly, I weaned myself off Peacocks clothes, got my hair cut and dyed, and dared to reveal a figure honed by  years of pushing a double buggy. I still remember the outfit that really ignited my passion for fashion, which I bought in upmarket Islington, in London: a leopard-print wrap dress from Hobbs, a fur-collared camel coat from Jigsaw and a pair of nude heels from Kurt Geiger. When I walked down the street, I felt more youthful and sexy than I ever did in my 20s and I think I may even have detected a  wolf whistle. Suddenly, I had time to read fashion magazines and tear my eyes away from my children long enough to notice what was in shop windows. I . ask myself if Sally Bercow  would wear any item I pick up, and if the answer is yes, I . put it back on the rack . I learnt that you can never have too many coats or shoes as the first impression you give is usually outdoors, and to update classic outfits every season with on-trend accessories. After a few years, it finally dawned on me that you can’t buy cheap in your 40s and are better served for basics in higher-end High Street stores such as LK Bennett and Hobbs, and that a new level of grooming is essential so as not to look old and unkempt. I even devised the ‘Sally Bercow rule’ — never mind Amanda Holden, who revealed last week that whenever she has a style dilemma, she wonders: ‘What would Jennifer Aniston do?’ I ask myself if Sally Bercow [Speaker’s wife and former Big Brother contestant] would wear any item I pick up, and if the answer is yes, I put it back on the rack. All that said, I do feel wistful when I look at my children and realise that, thanks to fast, disposable fashion and the ever-increasing pressure to conform — now constantly policed by social media — the carefree days when image didn’t matter are over. After all, how can you make fashion mistakes and truly learn your own style if you don’t get it wrong from time to time? Even if it is in a flowery Laura Ashley frock.
Aged 21, Sarah dressed more middle-aged than she does now at 45 .
The once-frumpy Emma Thompson had a style revelation at the same age .
Disposable income has led to a dramatic change amongst older women, .
New survey results show middle age begins at 53 .
By . Sarah Chalmers . There's a picture buried in my family photo album that makes me recoil in horror. It shows a dowdy woman squinting uncertainly at the camera, her matronly Laura Ashley floral dress and frizzy perm clearly doing nothing for either her figure or her self-confidence. But this picture isn’t of an elderly aunt or frumpy family friend — it’s me, at a 21st birthday party in 1990. Yes, at a time when I should have been looking my most youthful and radiant, I was more middle-aged than I am now — lamb dressed as mutton, if you will — and sadly I remained that way for the next 20 years. Lamb dressed as mutton: On her 21st birthday Sarah looked more middle-aged than she does now . It’s only now, aged 45, that I am finally at ease with how I look. In fact, I’m regularly mistaken for a younger woman, thanks to a wardrobe stuffed with skinny jeans and fitted jackets from fashion-forward stores such as Cos, Whistles and teenager’s favourite H&M. I even have a trendy gamine haircut. In many ways, it seems, I’ve actually aged backwards. And I’m not alone: something dramatic has happened to older women like me who, according to  a recent survey of 2,000 adults,  commissioned by healthcare provider Benenden Health, believe middle age begins at 53. Armed with a disposable income and constantly bombarded with images of eternally youthful  stars such as Amanda Holden  (muttony at 20, foxy at 40) we’ve gritted our teeth and made the best of ourselves. Perhaps it’s the sudden shock of the first wrinkle or, conversely, the growing confidence to take risks that sees so many of us deciding to defer growing old: a last-ditch attempt to recapture the youth that’s slowly slipping out of our grasp. Ageing in reverse: Aged 45 Sarah is finally at ease with how she looks, and feels younger than ever . The once-frumpy, now never-badly dressed Emma Thompson seemed to have a style revelation at a similar age. When she finally left behind the cropped hair and combat pants she was once known for, and started turning up to red carpet events in slinky Maria Grachvogel in 2004, she explained her transformation: ‘I will be 45 years old this year and I don’t have many more years left to be glamorous.’ Buying online and easy returns have also eroded the middle-aged woman’s bugbear of communal changing rooms, with their unforgiving, unflatteringly lit mirrors. No wonder recent figures showed 86 per cent of women aged 45 to 54 had made at least one online fashion purchase in the past six months, and more of us than ever are shopping in trendy ‘youth’ stores such as H&M and New Look. Revelation: Actress Emma Thompson has left behind her days of cropped hair and combat pants . Compare that with my 20s, when my achingly earnest generation of women were so desperate to be taken seriously that we saw fashion as frivolous and deemed not making an effort to be ‘cool’. And since the generation before us — who had been born in the post-war Forties — had barely experienced teenage years, far less the middle youth that now keeps adults in semi-adolescence until they are almost 50, no precedent had been set for anything other than sensible dressing from  21 onwards. My mum, Ruth, was typical. A radiographer from Fife who stopped working when my older sister, Debbi, and I were born in her early 20s, she had a pathological fear of looking like mutton dressed as lamb. She refused to wear ‘denim jeans’ after the age of 30 for the same reason, and I absorbed her values. So it’s no surprise that I have another picture of me, a year after leaving Edinburgh University, in my first job as a reporter, wearing a russet trouser suit from Austin Reed that completely drowns my 25-year-old figure and looks at least two sizes too big. My day-to-day working wardrobe was usually bought at middle-aged favourites such as C&A, M&S or, if I was pushing the boat out, Principles and Laura Ashley. My casual style was no better: it consisted of baggy sweatshirts and shapeless jeans and my make-up regime was nothing but mascara and lipstick. No wonder I once suffered the indignity of having a taxi driver mistake me for my friend’s mother, accompanying her to a university open day. And it’s just as well I was focused on my studies as I doubt I was turning many heads. Somehow, in my mid-30s, I finally found a man willing to look past my shoulder pads and knee-length skirts. My husband, Jem, a children’s author, 45, professes, typically, that he didn’t notice what I was wearing unless it was short. Getting shirty: A wardrobe stuffed with skinny jeans and fitted shirts and jackets has seen Sarah go from frumpy to foxy . Shopping for a wedding dress took me inside high-end designer shops and department stores for the first time, but these sartorial stirrings were put on hold again between the ages of 35 and 39, when I was either pregnant with my son, Freddie, now eight, and my twins, Bobby and Loulou, six, or in a sleep-deprived fog. But then, suddenly, everything changed. My eldest started school and the younger two began sleeping through the night. I remember standing in front of the mirror, in cords and a sweatshirt, meeting my reflection’s eyes and realising that I’d spent my entire life on my career and nurturing others. Two billion T-shirts are sold around the world each year . I suddenly wanted to be frivolous for the first time. I was 42 by the time my twins started school and, faced with 20-something mums in the playground, I was determined never to be mistaken for their granny. Slowly, I weaned myself off Peacocks clothes, got my hair cut and dyed, and dared to reveal a figure honed by years of pushing a double buggy. I still remember the outfit that really ignited my passion for fashion, which I bought in upmarket Islington, in London: a leopard-print wrap dress from Hobbs, a fur-collared camel coat from Jigsaw and a pair of nude heels from Kurt Geiger. When I walked down the street, I felt more youthful and sexy than I ever did in my 20s and I think I may even have detected a  wolf whistle. Suddenly, I had time to read fashion magazines and tear my eyes away from my children long enough to notice what was in shop windows. I . ask myself if Sally Bercow would wear any item I pick up, and if the answer is yes, I . put it back on the rack . I learnt that you can never have too many coats or shoes as the first impression you give is usually outdoors, and to update classic outfits every season with on-trend accessories. After a few years, it finally dawned on me that you can’t buy cheap in your 40s and are better served for basics in higher-end High Street stores such as LK Bennett and Hobbs, and that a new level of grooming is essential so as not to look old and unkempt. I even devised the ‘Sally Bercow rule’ — never mind Amanda Holden, who revealed last week that whenever she has a style dilemma, she wonders: ‘What would Jennifer Aniston do?’ I ask myself if Sally Bercow [Speaker’s wife and former Big Brother contestant] would wear any item I pick up, and if the answer is yes, I put it back on the rack. All that said, I do feel wistful when I look at my children and realise that, thanks to fast, disposable fashion and the ever-increasing pressure to conform — now constantly policed by social media — the carefree days when image didn’t matter are over. After all, how can you make fashion mistakes and truly learn your own style if you don’t get it wrong from time to time? Even if it is in a flowery Laura Ashley frock.
looked more middle-aged than she does now . It’s something dramatic has happened to older women provider Benenden Health, believe middle age begins at 53. Armed with a disposable income and once-frumpy, now never-badly dressed Emma Thompson seemed to have a style revelation at a