The Life Behind The Style
There’s a new style icon making the rounds in fashion, and she’s not 22. She probably has a signature perfume she’s worn for 30 years, a coat she paid too much for and would do it again, and absolutely no interest in being told what to wear.
Lately, fashion has been flirting with what some are calling nonna style. Think of it as a coastal grandmother after she’s had her espresso, traded the beach house for Milan, and decided a silk scarf and proper handbag wouldn’t kill her. It has the same grown-woman ease, but with more polish, more intention, and better shoes. Which, frankly, feels about right.
And while I’m always a little amused when fashion suddenly turns grown women into a trend, I do understand the appeal. What makes that woman interesting isn’t just the scarf or the handbag. It’s the life behind her. The confidence, yes, but also the history, the friendships, the losses, and the perspective that comes from living a full life. And last week, living mine felt more important than forcing myself to write Monday Musings.
I know some of you missed Monday Musings last week, and I appreciate that more than you know.
I sat down at this keyboard three different times, and every time I started, I couldn’t get past the first paragraph.
I never intended for this blog to become a diary of my personal life. I prefer to stay practical. But after years of sharing this space with you, the line between my closet and my reality has blurred in ways I didn’t plan. Last weekend was a rough one, and I couldn’t find words that weren’t too raw to share.
Last Saturday, my husband and I had dinner with a group of friends we’ve been gathering with for over forty years. We’ve shared everything together…the births of our children, their weddings, the deaths of our parents, and over the last decade, the loss of our own members to lung cancer. We’ve shared vacations, the kind of laughter that leaves you breathless, and the kind of tears that only true friends are allowed to see.
Last summer, we lost Bonnie, one of my personal heroes. After her stage 4 lung cancer diagnosis, she didn’t turn inward. She and her husband established a foundation in 2006 to help other lung cancer patients and fund research. That was just who she was. She was fighting her own battle and still looking out for everyone else. My husband had early-stage lung cancer, caught only because Bonnie had pushed all of us to get scanned.
She called me Punkin. I later found out she called others that, too, and somehow it didn’t matter. It still felt endearing. She was also the person who could walk down any sidewalk, glance down, and find a twenty-dollar bill. That kind of luck felt like it was built into her.
This was our first dinner party together since Bonnie died, and her husband hosted us at their home. When I walked into the kitchen and saw the care he’d taken, the appetizers arranged just so, and the table beautifully set, I almost said, “Bonnie would be proud of you.” I stopped myself because I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to say. I still don’t know if it was. But I thought it.
Then we sat down, and there was Bonnie’s place at the table, set as it always had been. It’s hard to explain what that does to a room.
We spent the evening doing what we’ve always done, talking, remembering, joking, and laughing in the way only old friends can. Bonnie had been such a big part of that laughter, which made her absence feel even more painful. When we said our goodbyes, we all hugged a little tighter and held on a little longer than usual.
It reminded me that while I spend my days helping you find the right blazer or the perfect neutral, clothes are really just the costumes for the lives we live with the people who matter most.
Bonnie’s empty chair was hard to look at. But I’m deeply grateful for the forty years of memories that still fill it.
Wow, did this hit home. We lost one of our family last week to lung cancer with another one diagnosed with the last week. That’s 5 family so far who were all life time smokers and all women of the boomer generation. I’ve read that women become more addicted than men and it makes it harder for them to quit. That’s sure playing out in our family. Even after being diagnosed and treated some of them could not quit. What the tobacco companies have done to people and continue to do makes me so angry. Your friend’s husband has great strength to pull off that dinner. I could never have done that. I think it was a great way to honor her. My heart goes out to you and feel free to miss all the postings you need to. Life, good bad and indifferent, happens.
A beautiful tribute to Bonnie and the friendship you share with friends. ❤️
I’m sorry about the loss of your dear friend in Bonnie. How wonderful you had a gathering and shared memories. I’m sure that brought her husband and you a great deal of comfort.
I found your column a few months ago and now read it regularly. Being told how to be an acceptable aging woman is not my thing, but that isn’t what you do. You are a gifted writer and it is clear you love what you do.
Losing good friends leaves a hole doesn’t fill.
I loved the tenderness of your friend’s acknowledgment of his wife’s death and his trust that his besties would share that. It was profound.
Cheers
So sorry for your loss. I lost my best friend suddenly a few years ago and I tell you life has not been the same. We talked every day and we really could talk about anything. It is like a broken heart 💔 take care
Very touching , this story should be entitled the empty chair :(I feel it as the tears well up and the pit of grief in my stomach . I lost a friend to Parkinson’s and we all feel her loss in our lives and her presence when we see certain flowers, birds, clouds , favorite treats lemon squares, cheesecake, gingers snap cookies and chintz china.
I often chat with her husband and soulmate of 50 years and he allows her to come alive with poetry by Mary Oliver or his photography and his art of storytelling.
I think your musing helped many of your readers come to terms with love and loss , it touched me like a poignant movie such as steel magnolias 💙
Jennifer, my reason for commenting seems very insignificant in light of your post, we have that set of friends too and that relationship is so dear to us like yours. But I’d also like to ask you to please report back on your barrel leg pants from Lands End after you’ve tried them. I’m on the fence to buy any!
Sandy
I understand the sentiment of your beautiful piece of writing in this blog. We are on a common path and I expect Connie would have agreed that you all continue to enjoy that journey.
Cx
Hi Jennifer,
Your friends sound so wonderful. I am very sorry for the loss of Bonnie.
Sending love and support.
Hugs. Our long term friendships are sometimes closer than family! The loss is so painful but keeping the memories of Bonnie close and alive makes it bearable. Thank you for sharing.
Oh, Jennifer. I have been thinking of your loss all day and hoping to find a way to express my condolences as well as my gratitude for your honesty. Reading your words this morning touched me deeply. Thank you for sharing your memories in such a personal and heartfelt way. Such a beautiful tribute.
My sincere condolences for the loss of your dear friend, Bonnie. She sounds like a wonderful person. I found it poignant for her husband to set a place for her at the table to keep her in mind at your dinner. How very difficult for him to lose his life partner but good that he is still meeting with you and your husband.
So sorry for your loss, Jennifer. It is so difficult to lose dear friends. You have each other and all your beautiful, fun memories.
Beautiful post Jennifer. She loves those dinners and all of you so very much. ❤️ xoxo
Thanks for sharing your heart. Good friends are a blessing of the Lord.
Jennifer i am sorry for the loss of your friend. What a wonderful way for your friend to honor his wife at the table! I have a close friend that i met in 1990. We live in two different states now and try to see each other as much as possible when we go back to the hometown to visit. She was just here in Florida for a quick visit with her family and we were lucky enough to spend a day together. We talked for about 22 hrs over a day and a half. It was marvelous! I needed that reset. And yes i am very grateful for the friendship. It seems it’s even more important as we age to have good friends.❤️
Dear Jennifer,
I’m so sorry for the loss of your friend. My husband and I also have friends that we have have shared so many life experiences with over 4 decades. Precious memories…how they linger…
May your memories of Bonnie linger.
Prayers,
Dianne
Such a heartfelt memory, and I truly related to a very close friend of almost 50 years. I had to wait till later in the day to respond just because you said it so beautifully. Thank you so very much. We all have special loved friends and you couldn’t have said it more poignant and lovely. Thanks for sharing a piece of your heart. Much acknowledged and appreciated. God Bless.
Jennifer, that was deep, thoughtful and beautifully written. Thank you for sharing your life experience in addition to your helpful fashion advice, you keep it real and grounded. We should all strive to be like Bonnie, she sounds like a very special person.
Gosh what a moving Monday musing and so brave of you to share that