Middle Aged Crisis

I am three months away from turning 35 and I am freaked out.  Majorly.  Not by the number, but the fact that I will be considered middle-aged.  I will no longer be in the most coveted demographic for advertisers, 18-34.  I'll be in the 35-48.  It seems like it just came out of no where.  I didn't even stop to consider that I would be middle-aged until my friend brought it up.  Then the panic ensued. 

I started to think of my own preconceived notions of what it means to be middle aged.  I always picture the man with greying hair, leathery skin (I guess George Hamilton) driving around in his fancy sports car convertible.  Usually, there's a much younger woman with him.  For women, I always assume botox, face lifts, lipsuction, or running off to Italy with their pool boy.   I don't need/want to do any of those things.  I am blessed with decent genetics and look like I'm 27 at the oldest.  

So why exactly, am I freaking out? Well, I guess I thought I would be a little more established by the time I turned 35.  I'm using the word "established" because over time my idea of what I considered established has changed.  When I was little I wanted to be married, drive a cute sports car, have 2.4 kids, a cat, a dog, and live in a Cap Cod style house with a white picket fence.  I basically wanted to look like I jumped out of a Ralph Lauren catalog.  Overtime, that dream faded (thank goodness. Its a little too suburban for my liking). I replaced it with other things like winning a pulitizer prize for my novel, an oscar for my screenplay, or being a high-paid PR executive.  Somewhere in my 20's, I decided that these lofty goals would only leave me highly disappointed.  Then, I decided, I wanted to be established in my career.  With 35 three months away, I still don't know what I want to do with my life. 

 If I really think about it, maybe  I am ok with this.  Maybe this is the chance I need to take a risk and totally go for it...what do I have to lose? Nada.  Bring on 35, it's the year of Shelly Marcelly! 

High Tea and Duct Tape

One of my  favorite things about moving back to Chicago was being able to spend time with my Aunt Me Me.  We loved to go out for lunch.  For my aunt, it was a chance to try new restaurants or go somewhere that my uncle wouldn't like to go (he isn't a big fan of spicy foods).  I enjoyed being able to spend time with her and to experience amazing restaurants that I probably would never known about or went to.  

In the month since my aunt passed away, I am comforted by the city.  I love walking around downtown and being surrounded by restaurants we went to and thinking of the great conversation and the fun memories that I will keep with me forever.  

Every time I walk past the Four Seasons hotel, I am reminded of the winter afternoon that we spent having High Tea.  I was completely a nervous wreck about going somewhere so fancy.  I spent countless nights tossing and turning obsessing over my outfit.  I ended up wearing a navy jumper with a cashmere blend paisley cardigan, my mom's Austrian crystal necklace and my favorite pair of boots: knee-high brown riding boots that  I found at a thrift store for three dollars.  I thought I looked pretty smart and appropriate for High Tea.  Seconds before I walked out the door, the sole of my boot  came apart.  After panicking for a minute, I did what any sensible person would do: I duct taped the sole of my boot (with pink tape, might I add).  As I walked to the bus stop, I thought, "how many people have to tape their boot before high tea? Probably not a lot." And at least the tape was noticeable.

The High Tea was amazing.  The tea room is exactly what I thought it would look like.  The room has beautiful, rich dark woodwork, hardwood floors, huge oriental rugs, and comfy tapestry covered chairs.  I felt like I stepped into a time machine, back to another era-- OK, OK, I felt like I was in England.  My aunt completely put me at ease, and I forgot about my DIY boots and enjoyed our time together sipping tea, eating cucumber sandwiches, chatting and of course laughing.  I am pretty sure we poked fun at the tourists sporting their white sneakers, jeans and sweat shirts.  At the same time, I loved how there was such a good mix of people.  I loved that there were old women who looked like they went to High Tea once a week. They were dressed in gorge vintage (not to them) Chanel suits and pearls.  A grandma was there with her grandchild and a group of women were there celebrating a birthday.  It was just the perfect mix of people. 

 I feel so fortunate that I was able to experience High Tea.  I am pretty sure that it is not that common of an activity today.  And I'm 100% sure, that I'm the only person who had to tape their boots before High Tea.