A letter from a reader

At 63, I got stopped three times at the farmers market, all because of a pair of overalls I nearly did not buy

I have never written anything like this before, and I want to say at the start that I am not a writer and I am not in the habit of telling other women what to wear.

But three different women stopped me at the farmers market two Saturdays ago to ask about my overalls, and I have now explained it enough times that it seemed easier to write it down properly.

For years my mornings had the same little standoff. The jeans that looked fine but pinched by ten, or the soft old pull-on pants that were comfortable and made me feel like I had given up on the day.

Comfortable, or presentable. By 63 I had accepted you pick one before breakfast.

So I picked the jeans for town and the soft pants for home, and changed clothes in the middle of most days, which is a silly way to live.

I did not choose that. Nobody decides to spend her sixties changing outfits at lunchtime. It happens quietly, one stiff waistband at a time.

How it happens

The stores seem to think a woman my age wants exactly two things. Structured jeans with hard waistbands that dig in the moment you sit, or shapeless elastic-waist pants in colors chosen to be forgotten.

And the fun, characterful things, the overalls and the jumpsuits, are all cut for twenty-year-olds, so you assume they are not meant for you and move along.

So the comfortable clothes stay home clothes, and the town clothes stay uncomfortable, and you keep changing at lunch.

What I had wrong

Here is the bit I got most wrong. I thought overalls were for teenagers and toddlers, and that at my age I would look like I had lost the plot in them.

Then I saw these. They are not stiff denim at all, they are soft and light as linen, in a gentle gray covered with a white floral print that looks almost like lace. The straps adjust with a button so nothing digs in anywhere, the bib skims instead of hugging, and there are proper pockets everywhere you want one.

As comfortable as my gardening clothes, and pretty enough to be stopped in at the market. That is the combination I had assumed did not exist, and it took me until 63 to find it.

They come from a little boutique here in Austin

They are from Iris & Nora, a little boutique here that has been quietly dressing women our age for a few years now.

A soft pair of overalls in gray with that lovely lace-look floral print, worn over a plain white tee. They do a whole collection of these, jumpsuits and overalls in different prints and colors, which I will come back to.

They are light and they breathe, which matters in a Texas summer. Nothing pinches, because there is no waistband at all, just the straps you set once with a button and forget. And the floral print does something clever, it reads as an outfit rather than workwear, so you look put together bending over the tomato plants.

That is really all there is to it. It is not complicated. It is just the comfortable thing, finally made pretty.

What happened at the market

I wore them first for a morning in the yard, and then, because nothing pinched and nothing needed changing, straight to the farmers market.

Three women stopped me. Three. One of them was about my age and said, quietly, like a confession, that she had been wanting overalls for two years and did not dare.

My friend Sue said I looked ten years younger. I have decided to simply believe her.

What I noticed more than the compliments, though, was the pockets. Phone in one, list in the other, hands free for the peaches. I had forgotten what that feels like, since women's clothes decided pockets were optional.

I was comfortable the entire day, and I never went home to change. That is the rarest kind of thing to wear. The one that works as hard as your old jeans and looks like you made an effort, all at once.

Three things I have learned since

One. No waistband is the secret. All the comfort comes from the straps, set once with a button. Nothing digs in when you sit, bend, or eat lunch. It changes the whole day.

Two. The print does the dressing up. Because the floral reads as pretty rather than practical, you look intentional, not like you borrowed them from the shed.

Three. The sizing is honest. They run from a small all the way to a 5XL, the same easy fit the whole way. I wish more places would bother with that.

About the price

I want to be straightforward about this, because it was the thing that made me suspicious.

The overalls are $49.95. They were $100.00.

My first thought, honestly, was that there had to be a catch, because soft linen-feel pieces with this much detail usually cost twice that in the boutiques here.

There is no catch that I have found. They are a small boutique selling directly, so there is no department store taking a cut in the middle, and they run a summer sale to move the season's stock before it turns.

I did what I imagine you are doing now and went and read the reviews before I ordered. Just over three hundred of them, sitting at 4.2 stars. Not the suspiciously perfect five you see on some websites, which if I am honest made me trust it rather more. Real people, mixed opinions, mostly very good.

Then I ordered a second pair in another print.

What I would tell you if we were friends

If you and I were sitting out on the porch with a glass of iced tea and you asked me, this is what I would say.

If you live in jeans you do not love because comfortable always meant frumpy, and if you have secretly wanted overalls for two years and did not dare, then it is worth ten minutes of your evening to go and look.

Not because a pair of overalls will change your life. It will not. But getting dressed once in the morning and being comfortable and presentable until bedtime is a nicer way to live, and it is a very small price for that.

Two practical things. The sale is on now, and the middle sizes are the ones that go first. And once the summer stock has sold through, that is it.

I get dressed once a day now, and I get stopped at the market.

Peggy