If there is one thing that can really make you feel middle-aged, it's when your kids redefine cool so that it doesn't include you. I am beginning to understand my mother's objections to Beatle boots.

In my circle of friends midlife crises have become common, but there's one crisis that I don't feel has drawn enough attention. I find that one of the toughest things about being middle-aged is that I don't have a thing to wear.

They don't make hip clothes for 37-year-old mothers of two. I've looked and they aren't out there. I'm supposed to shop in the Women's Department. The name "Women's Department" is a code phrase for, "You're too old to look good anyway, so you might as well buy these clothes."

Styles in Women's can be divided into two categories. There are the earth-tone jumpers that are completely shapeless and fall to my ankles. With this dress I'm supposed to wear an earth-tone T-shirt that costs about seven times what a T-shirt should cost because the fabric is nubby and the dye job is splotchy.

The other side of Women's is the really cutesy stuff. This kind of design used to be restricted to maternity clothes, but the designers caught a lot of grief for making pregnant women dress like little girls. So they decided to have all women wear little girl clothes. Cutesy outfits include a sweater with a picture of a teddy bear holding a golf club.

Until recently I boldly continued going to Juniors, but with '70s fashions making a comeback I've been forced out. When a retro look is the look of your own youth, you are too old for retro.

Then there are the short skirt and long hair issues. As a chic 20-year-old I sneered at 37-year-old women who wore short skirts or long hair. Why were they trying to look so young? Couldn't they grow old gracefully? But I still really like short skirts. So I keep pushing back the age at which women shouldn't wear short skirts anymore. Right now I'm at 40. After I turn 40 I will no longer wear short skirts. Really.

But what then? I guess I'll have to wear khaki pants and polo shirts. It is the outfit that is quickly becoming the uniform for people my age. The Gap must be making a fortune on khakis. Millions of Americans dress in identical pants, with the button fly and pleats that cover up sagging lower abs.

Back in the '80s, when I was cool, khaki pants and polo shirts were worn only by "preppies." We all know that our clothes make a statement about who we are. They indicate our politics and our professions and how much time we devote to ironing. Back when I had spiked hair and leotards, I held the strong conviction that preppies spent way too much time ironing. Even though those days of extreme style may be gone for me, I just don't think I can do the chino thing. I fear that path leads to Martha Stewart books and Lite radio stations.

I could go for the old hippie look. I could embarrass my kids with tie-dye and lots of dangling jewelry and maybe Guatemalan vests.

I think I'd rather dress like Mrs. Cleaver. Hers was a generation that knew how to age. They weren't worried about maintaining their hipness. They were into respectability. They were into looking like grown-ups.

I admit that some days I am dressed in exactly the same outfit as my son. This never happened at the Cleavers. Mom was mom and son was son, and there was no confusion about whose laundry was whose.

The hair thing can be even harder. When I was younger I figured hair was meant to be changed; after all, you could always grow more. I butched it short, grew it out, permed it, bleached it, and dyed it maroon. I spent a good part of my income in hair salons. Since turning 35 it has taken me two years to decide to grow my bangs out. It didn't take me two years to decide to get married. But growing out those bangs seemed like a really big commitment. Did I really want to expose those forehead wrinkles?

At least I'm not male. Between a hairline that is creeping out of sight and a gut that is creeping over his belt, the heretofore hip man has to depend on the frames of his glasses to declare he is still cool. There's no doubt that glasses frames are a lot more important now than they were when Ward Cleaver was in charge.

Because the heretofore hip aren't ready to give up on fashion. It gave us status and a role in life. It expressed our political agenda. We had fashion down to an art form! Hey, we're middle-aged, but we're the Boomers. We're used to having our way.

We want aggressive clothes that look phat on fat behinds. We want fashions that make a statement about college funds and mortgages. I want an outfit that says Mother of Two With an Attitude.

And if I can't get it, I'm getting one of those neat Donna Reed dresses and a string of pearls. MM

Eve Parker is a Minneapolis writer.
 

This article appeared as "Nothing to Wear" in the March, 1998 issue of Minnesota Monthly. Copyright Minnesota Monthly.