Would you dare to wear the new mini mini in midlife? Sky-high hemlines are back —and who says they’re only for the young? Five brilliant writers refuse to skirt the issue!
- Saint Laurent and Valentino featured mini-mini skirts on their A/W catwalks
- Charlotte Gainsbourg donned a mid-thigh showstopper at Venice Film Festival
- Actress admits she’s ‘moving into that age of thinking, ‘Is it still appropriate?”
- Here, UK-based writers reveal their thoughts on wearing a mini skirt after age 50
The five words guaranteed to strike fear into the hearts of any midlife woman are surely ‘the mini skirt is back!’
But it is — and not the sedate, conservative version that ends just above the knee. The trend this winter is something that stops suddenly mid-thigh, a mini-mini. Terrifying. They were the hemline length of choice on the autumn/winter catwalks. There were fur-trimmed minis at Saint Laurent, metallic skater styles at Valentino, office appropriate designs (yes, there is such a thing) at Versace — the list goes on.
Now they’ve taken over the High Street, too. Love them or loathe them, you won’t escape them. It’s easier said than done but maybe we should put those fears to one side and embrace this tiny trend. In 1926, economist George Taylor floated the idea of the hemline index — that skirts rise and fall according to the stock market. Whether or not the economics stack up, there’s no doubt the return of the mini skirt heralds a desire for post-pandemic fun.
Thanks to Mary Quant, they were almost mandatory in the Swinging Sixties and they spiked again in the 1990s. Of course, what we felt comfortable wearing then may not be quite so easy to pull off now.
Five UK-based writers debate if the mini-mini skirts trend is appropriate to wear after the age of 50 – including Rowan Pelling (pictured)
Even Charlotte Gainsbourg, the insanely youthful actress and daughter of Jane Birkin and Serge Gainsbourg — whose skirt length of choice is ‘the shorter the better’ — is starting to question their appropriateness at the age of 50.
After donning a scalloped, mid-thigh showstopper on the red carpet at the Venice Film Festival, she admitted this week: ‘I’m slowly moving into that age of thinking, “Is it still appropriate?” Or, “Am I looking like an old lady with a short skirt?” I know that one day I’ll have to stop.’
But will she? And do you really need to? Here five writers debate whether to raise their hems this autumn . . .
The fashion police haven’t arrested me so far…
By author and broadcaster Rowan Pelling, 53
When I was 13, my mother told me I had ‘funny knees’ like her and probably shouldn’t wear short skirts. Her words haunted me until my early 20s, when along came Kate Moss with her bandy legs and slight knock-knees.
I looked at my own pins anew and saw them as assets, suddenly my wonky Pelling knees were borderline fashionable.
From 1991, when I started my first job in London, I wore mini skirts with near-religious zeal — and have done ever since.
My husband, whom I met while working on GQ magazine, says my legs were the first thing he noticed about me.
I still wear a lime green silk mini from Whistles that he bought me after seeing it in Vogue circa 1993. Little did he know that an annual ritual of our 26-year marriage would be the moment I’d appear, round about October, in a mini kilt, or gold gym skirt, and ask him, ‘Can I still get away with this?’
Only one answer is accepted: an enthusiastic yes. The fashion police have not arrested me yet. This week, when I wore my shortest skirt, I was secretly thrilled to hear a discerning gay male friend say: ‘I like that outfit.’ If Sharon Stone and Madonna can look great in minis into their 60s it’s a green light for the rest of us.
And just look at Dame Vivienne Westwood, designer of all my favourite mini skirts, who wears whatever she darn well pleases — long, short, corseted, kilted or nothing at all — even though she turned 80 this year.
Rowan (pictured) said mini skirts are practical and having gone through body insecurities when young, nothing is going to stop her from a little late-life flaunting of the parts she likes
Where I would advise some caution is in styling. We 50-something mere mortals can’t style them in the way Hollywood goddesses, punk designers and young women can.
Bare legs are usually unwise. Ditto any form of high-heeled pump, stiletto or strappy sandal. You might get away (and I like to think I do) with a boot with Cuban heels for party purposes. But generally it’s best to go for trainers or flattish boots. Biker, army, cowboy or riding boots are all chic options and practical, too.
The key thing all mini wearers know is that a good pair of legs won’t let you down.
Breasts and bottoms droop, stomachs recline into soft folds, arms get bingo wings, but pins keep their shape (true for men, too: just think of Barry Humphries as Dame Edna Everage). My grandmother was wearing fishnets when she was 80.
Having gone through massive body insecurities when young, nothing’s going to stand between me and a little late-life flaunting of the parts I do like.
Self-approval is hard-earned for most women and you should ruddy well get to enjoy it until you totter into your bath chair. More than that, mini skirts are practical. I had to sprint for my train this week. You can’t do that in a maxi.
I wore an 18in mini in my 50s . . . what was I thinking?
By columnist Amanda Platell, 63
Amanda Platell, 63, (pictured) said she wouldn’t wear a mini-mini now, and would conceal thread veins with opaque tights if wearing a slightly shorter skirt
If any woman over 50 can get away with wearing a mini it’s Charlotte Gainsbourg.
Yet still I found myself tut-tutting over her musings on the appropriateness of it all. Get over yourself, honey.
HOW TO ROCK IT PAST 50…
BY STYLE EDITOR DINAH VAN TULLEKEN
Pictured: Miniskirt fan Charlotte Gainsbourg
1 If the skirt is risqué, make your top half demure.
2 Tights are your friend. If you lack confidence, go for 60 denier and above.
3 Reject anything skintight in favour of an A-line, pleated or skater style
4 Make sure it’s comfortable and you’re comfortable in it.
5 The shorter the skirt, the lower your heels.
Even a woman as gorgeous as you has to face the fact that when the clock dials up half a century, it’s time to dress your age. I wouldn’t wear a mini-mini now and if I do dare to wear a slightly shorter shirt, it’s not far above the knee at all and with opaque tights to conceal the thread veins.
A quick scan through my own mini history brought back memories. At 16, Mum banned me from leaving the house in a knitted black version that barely covered my buttocks, so I put on a pair of jeans and stuffed it in my handbag to change into later.
In my 20s and 30s — the 1980s and 90s — I had a whole rack of skintight minis you wore under long, shoulder-padded Dynasty-style jackets. Into my 40s, when I’d put on weight, but my pins were still good, I went for slightly more demure minis, floaty and romantic.
In my 50s? Never! Or, rather, just the once. Aged 51, at a pub with my then boyfriend, who was 13 years younger, I remember wearing a little Agnes B number, faded denim with jean buttons down the front. I styled it with a white boyfriend shirt, battered cowboy boots and opaque tights.
I found it yesterday in the cupboard for clothes I’d never be able to wear again, my happy memory collection.
And I was shocked. It is minuscule — or should it be ‘mini’scule? When it came to this cover shoot, I didn’t believe it would fit around my waist 12 years later.
I got out the tape measure and that denim mini is 18 inches from waist to hem. 18 inches! Lord alive, what must I have been thinking?
I remember thinking I looked pretty OK. I wore it endlessly and I’m sure one of my too-frank-for-their-own-good girlfriends would have told me if I looked, as Charlotte fears, ‘like an old lady with a short skirt’.
So my advice to Charlotte is, yes, there comes a time to pack away childish things. By the time you get to my age, your minis will be languishing in your memory cupboard.
I wear my leather mini from now until the spring
By TV presenter and writer Aggie MacKenzie
I’m 66 and love my dark navy leather mini skirt. I wear it most days from autumn to spring — it’s my go-to cooler-weather staple.
I find it far more comfortable and freeing than anything else in my wardrobe. I never feel quite right in jeans.
I blatantly copied the style from my (much younger) sister-in-law about eight years ago. I thought she looked fabulously cool, sexy and modern in her navy leather mini, opaque tights and ankle boots, so I ordered one online.
I know one of my two grown-up sons would not hesitate to have a word in my ear if it looked inappropriate or ridiculous. I love wearing fishnets in the evening with a knee-length dress or skirt, but I wouldn’t be brave enough to pair them with the leather mini (at least not in public).
Aggie MacKenzie (pictured) said she’s proudly wearing her beloved mini in her late 60s, choosing to pair with thickish tights and flat shoes
I reckon that would definitely prompt a son to roll his eyes and shake his head slowly.
For me, the essential accessories are thickish tights, gorgeous flat shoes or boots and a loose, longish top. Narrow hips help and legs not too skinny nor too chunky.
As a tubby teenager in Aviemore, Scotland, in the 1960s, I thought if I bought hotpants, I’d magically turn into a member of the legendary Pan’s People dance troupe.
I pressed and pushed myself into that outfit. The hem of the shorts dug into the squishy flesh of my thighs. I was probably the talk of the village. I wore it twice before giving it away. Around the same time, I went to a disco at the local holiday centre. Radio Luxembourg DJ Stuart Henry was hosting and decided to run a mini skirt competition to see who could get away with the shortest. Can you imagine? That really would cause a fuss nowadays.
My classmate Jean Alexander had the longest legs in school but that didn’t deter me. I hoicked my shirt dress over my chain belt and, guess what, Stuart’s tape measure revealed I’d won by a quarter of an inch! Next morning I saw myself plastered over Page 5 of the Daily Record. Someone showed it to my mum and I got hell for behaving like a hussy.
Now I’m in my late 60s and proudly wearing my beloved mini. Yes the lining needs replacing but as long as my pins hold good, I can’t see why it won’t see me through to my 70s and beyond.
I don’t care if I do look like mutton dressed as lamb
By author Candida Crewe, 57
Where is the rule book that says women over 50 can’t wear mini skirts? Or is it 30? I’ve never seen that manual, but I know the rule is writ large. I am 57 but ignoring it. Is that gross? Am I mutton dressed as lamb? Yes and yes again, probably. But I don’t care.
I couldn’t wear mini skirts when I was young because I felt I was too fat — nearly three stone more than I am these days. I used to look at my thin friends with envy. They could wear anything and look fantastic.
Candida Crewe, 57, (pictured) said she isn’t ready to stop wearing mini skirts
Me? In order to conceal my lardy figure, I spent over 30 years in voluminous head-to-toe black.
Then I lost weight in my 40s and risked a knee-length skirt or two. Only then, by the time I was far too old, did I feel my legs were allowed to emerge from their lifelong captivity.
One of my best friends told me last week it was unbecoming to have the body of a teenager and the clothes to match.
She said it kindly, but I got the message — eat more pies and age gracefully. A boyfriend started by loving my mini skirts and the fact I wasn’t sporting the floral tents and purple cardigans associated with my menopausal peers.
But one day when I was deliberating about what to wear, he said those fatal words: ‘Maybe it’s time . . . ’ Meaning: ditch the youthful hemlines. I told a friend about it this week and he was outraged. ‘Wear what you damn well like. It’s about pleasing you. No one else.’ His beautiful daughter — a model — and her gorgeous boyfriend, both in their 20s, were vociferous in their defence of my choice.
I told them I was making up for lost time. ‘Go, girl,’ they said, and didn’t give the impression they were disgusted. Maybe they have impeccable manners and I’m deluded.
But if Helen Mirren can rock the Goth look at nearly 80, as she did last weekend at Paris Fashion Week, what’s stopping me?
Of course, I know I’ll have to come to my mini skirt senses soon. But I am not ready to go long quite yet.
I’ll stick with the too-short hems a little while longer — and maybe leave transitioning to dignity till I turn 60.
Dreamed up to liberate , the mini is now a tyrant
By columnist Liz Jones, 63
Who invented the mini: Mary Quant or Andre Courreges? Who cares? More important is why they came up with the darn thing. Women in the 1960s no longer wanted to dress like their mothers and the easiest way was to hike their hems. But, as Biba founder Barbara Hulanicki told me, the mini was only to be worn until you grew up. Got married. Ate food.
The original mini died a welcome death in the early 1970s, snuffed out by the maxi: gorgeous, floaty fabric that meant women no longer had to worry about a gust of wind, chapped legs or being treated like a child.
Liz Jones, 63, (pictured) said people assume she wants to wear a mini skirt because she’s a size 8, however she wouldn’t dream of wearing a mini now
But it seems the mini is back.
We not only have some scrawny Frenchwoman agonising over whether to knee or not to knee now she’s 50 — and if the snake-hipped Charlotte Gainsbourg can’t do it, no one can — but leading designers, including Maria Grazia Chiuri at Dior, are sending the mini to limp down the catwalk like the superannuated modern-day equivalent of foot binding it really is.
Fendi x Versace even sent Kate Moss — who’s 329; models are like dogs: they age seven times faster — down the catwalk in a skirt so short you could see her kidneys.
The reason designers love the mini so?
A) they have no new ideas. B) simple shapes are cheap to make. That’s it.
And for those reasons we’re forced to do Pilates, and worry endlessly about orange-peel skin, knobbly knees and sudden gusts for ever. If we buy into what Chiuri thinks we should wear next spring, we are forced to wonder: ‘Should I risk walking home, or shell out for a taxi?’ The mini, dreamed up to liberate, has turned into a tyrant. It can render an older woman ridiculous in a way even the toothpick trouser, the legging and the bodycon dress can not.
(My friend Nic gave me a navy stretch body con from Reiss, one of my favourite labels, for a date with a new man. I put it on. It was way too short, mid thigh. ‘This will have him running to the hills!’ I shouted, throwing it at her. ‘I don’t even know him! And he will get to see my pants!’)
And it’s not just women; if a grown man turned up at the office in short trousers, he’d be ridiculed just the same.
I wouldn’t dream of wearing a mini now, aged 63. Because I’m a size 8, people just assume that I want to wear one.
Think of the mini like a nappy: you’re supposed to grow out of it.
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