We spend years being told to look after ourselves so we can live longer. But what are those extra years actually for? Vivian reflects on getting older, becoming more herself, and why getting older doesn’t mean being done.

Getting older hasn’t made me care less about fashion. I’ve simply stopped wanting to spend the day pulling things up, pulling things down, and wondering whether I can actually sit in what I’m wearing.

I found myself thinking the other day that not very much impresses me anymore. Which was a slightly depressing thought. But when I started thinking about it properly, I realised that wasn’t true at all. I’m quite easily impressed.

I’ve written for years. Thoughts, ideas, stories. Sometimes whole books that nobody else has ever read. And I think one of the reasons I’ve always loved writing is that I don’t really know where I’m going when I start.

There is a woman living in my wardrobe who has some very lovely clothes. I know this because I bought them for her. She has a beautiful dress. A slightly glamorous top. A very elegant skirt. And a crisp white linen jacket…

A reader gave me a line. Well, not even a whole line really. Just a few words in a review of The Season of Herself. They described Kit’s journey as moving from “being a role to being a person.”
And I stopped.

We place a lot of value on old friendships. But sometimes the people who arrive later in our lives can become just as important — because they meet us not as we were, but as we are now.

We’ve become so used to documenting our happiness that we sometimes forget to simply experience it. But perhaps the moments that matter most are the ones nobody else ever sees.

Perhaps growing older isn’t about the things we’re no longer allowed to do. Perhaps it’s about all the things we’re finally allowed not to do — and finally choosing what belongs to us.