It started with my Harry Potter glasses. Thick black frames, round as coke bottles. I bought them at a time I had been feeling dishearteningly mumsy and dumpy and old. Not sure how I thought these blue-stocking spectacles would help with getting my va-va-voom back. But at least when I wore my goggles I got noticed. That was good. Then children laughed at me. That was not so good. Men said “You might be hot if you lost the glasses”. Well, one man. Thanks mate. After the glasses I dyed my hair bright red. Fire engine, Vivienne Westwood red. Then I bought some patchwork cowboy boots. You can see where I’m going with this can’t you? It was the start of my kooky dressing phase which I’m afraid hasn’t quite ended. I think I could be a cautionary tale. Take a peek in my wardrobe. There is a lurid Trelise Cooper coat that looks as though Maria von Trapp-style it has been made from Aunt Gladys’ curtains. There is a Bet Lynch leopardskin fur coat and a Karen Walker raincoat that is second-cousin to a kitsch tea towel. Everything is too big, or too bright, too pointy or simply too ker-ay-zee. Yikes. Close the door. Now listen to me. I feel duty-bound to warn you and other women of a certain age – I am 43 – not to go there. Let me explain. At a certain point in her life a woman suddenly starts to fade from view. You sense you are becoming a washed-out watercolour. This can happen when you have just had children and have swapped your old Adrienne Winkelman power suits for elastic waist dirndl skirts and slip on shoes (saves all that bending) . Or when you are 50 and eating too many post-menopausal cream cakes. Or it can happen when you realise you have been rocking your same elderly Goth look for nigh on 30 years and are starting to look more like a geriatric Robert Smith than vampy Siouxsie Sioux. Whatever, it is easy to feel you are becoming invisible. No one double-takes when you walk down the street anymore. No one even gives you an appraising “comme ci, comme ca” glance. This realization marks the start of the danger zone when you may start to think that wearing hats is not such a outlandish idea. Novelty glasses appeal. I sympathise. I’ve been there. You don’t want to become grey and grim. Fair enough. You feel action is called for. If you don’t do something soon you fear you will start dressing like a university lecturer. Paua shell earrings, polar fleece and celibacy beckon. And it is easy to think radical measures are the answer – statement earrings, loud coats, cat-lady stockings. You are not alone in thinking this way. Peta Mathias is probably the one chook who can make this look chic. Others are Zandra Rhodes (pink steaked hair) and Vivienne Westwood (like the Queen only funky). On a good day Christine Rankin could sneak in there for her earring collection. Basically, you fancy yourself looking like Cecily in the cartoon with her catseye glasses. You have got confused between clothes and costume. There are designers who will cater for this misconception: Marni, the Belgians like Ann Demeulemeester and local brainy designers Wallace Rose and Marilyn Sainty. The kindly-disposed might say this aesthetic counts as dressing for yourself, rather than for a man. You might think this shows a sod-off-world confidence which is to be aspired to. The kooky look certainly seems to take its inspiration from the early feminist icons who you idolized as a sulky Germaine Greer-reading teenager. Think of poet Emily Dickinson crossed with a clown. This is all very well. I don’t want to discourage you totally from getting in touch with your inner bag lady, if that’s what floats your boat. I know a woman who whenever I complimented her clothes (often fake fur) she would say “It IS fun, isn’t it?” That’s one word for it. All I do want to say is be careful if you decide to essentially “give up” on being attractive to the opposite sex. Choosing to wear Doc Marten brogues now and then is fine. Replacing your La Perla lingerie with Thunderpants isn’t. And a little bit of lezzer chic goes a long way. Repeat after me: Now I am a certain age I have carte blanche to be more glamorous, not less. Note to self: “novelty” anything is not glamorous. This is not a zero-sum-game – in order to avoid becoming a shriveled old trout you don’t have to go zany. Aim for weird and classy rather than stand-up comedian. More Edith Beale from Grey Gardens than Bette Midler. If you want to see what NOT to wear, turn up to one of those book-reading writer’s festival things usually held on Sunday afternoons at a big hotel. They always attract women who have given up on sex. These women might look charming and innocuous but there is often a seething anger – at men, at life, at ageing - beneath their quirky façade. There is a funny programme on the BBC called Grumpy Old Women in which this species of woman gets to vent about all the inconveniences of modern life. They are quite droll, but I am not sure how many of the women who start collecting used margarine pots and plastic bags are ever going to get laid again. It is not just about getting your groove on. The choice you make at this age is between being a persona – “Look at moi, look at moi!” – a caricature who invites others to laugh at her in a bid to pre-empt rejection, or being a real person. A real person may dress a bit wacky when she feels like it, but she doesn’t put on a uniform to keep people away. You are you. You are still gorgeous. You don’t need attention-getting garb. Keep the sensual, sexy you alive, even if you can’t shop at Supre anymore. You might take a leaf from the style book of the Marchesa Casati, the patroness of eccentric women. The Marchesa was known for her midnight strolls through the Venetian streets, dressed only in furs, walking her cheetahs on jeweled leashes. Or copy the late Jennifer Patterson. She was from Two Fat Ladies but don’t let that put you off – she always kneaded dough with immaculately manicured hands with blood red polish and ten carats in rings. Sexy. Proper expensive bling is actually quite helpful to get rid of the folksy women’s bookshop paua-shell earring vibe. That’s the downside of going for glamorous over kooky is that it takes a lot more work and money. I got rid of my googly glasses and invested in expensive heels and a corset, that won’t let me eat too many cream cakes. Trust me. You’re worth it.