I’m Almost 40. Can I Stop Performing Now?

On cancelled plans, crying to sad songs, wanting a hug, and the exhausting business of being an authentic woman.

I’m writing this on Tuesday morning and, for reasons that will become obvious, only publishing it on Friday.

I was supposed to be working today, but a job got cancelled, which means my day looks absolutely nothing like the one I had planned.

And because I’m a self-employed woman with two children, a business, another creative project, and approximately 47 things I should probably be doing, you’d think I’d use this unexpected free time to catch up on my emails.

Naturally, I’ve decided to have an existential crisis instead.

I’m also feeling hormonal, so there’s that.

Anyway, I’m turning 40 in December.

FORTY.

And strangely, I’ve never felt more comfortable AND confident in my own skin.

A few days ago, I was asked to do an interview about reinvention in midlife by Kiran Singh, Midlife by Design. There were lots of questions about identity, confidence and how we present ourselves to the world. Very much my territory. I’m a personal stylist. I talk about this stuff for a living.

But while I was answering them, I kept coming back to one thing.

We talk SO much about authenticity.

Authentic leadership. Authentic personal brands. Authentic style. Showing up as your authentic self.

Even authenticity has become something we’re supposed to be good at.

And I started wondering whether, in our attempt to be authentic, we’ve somehow managed to turn that into another performance.

Because who actually decides if we’re being authentic?

Us?

The people watching us?

Instagram?

The woman we follow online who wakes up at 5am, journals, drinks something green and apparently hasn’t had a bad thought since 2019?

At what point did being ourselves become something we needed to demonstrate?

And more importantly … what are we performing for?

Because if I need you to look at my life and think, God, Carolina is so authentic, then surely I’ve missed the bloody point.

Maybe authenticity isn’t about showing people more of ourselves.

Maybe it’s about needing their approval less.

And that thought has stayed with me.

Because I know how I come across.

I’m the woman who gets dressed, puts on her lipstick, walks into a room and generally looks like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

And most of the time, I do.

I love my life. I love my work. I love being a mother. And I genuinely love the woman I see in the mirror.

Actually, can we talk about that for a second?

I look AMAZING.

There. I said it :)

I’m almost 40 and I’ve never loved my reflection more than I do now.

But on Monday I spent almost two hours listening to sad songs and crying.

Both things are true.

Sometimes I also wish I had someone beside me to hold me really tight. Not because I need a man to complete me. I’ve built a life on my own that I’m incredibly proud of.

But there have been plenty of moments over the last few years when I would have loved someone to say, “I’ve got this one. You sit down.”

I didn’t have that, so I got very good at having myself.

I’m proud of that.

I’m also not interested in pretending it means I never want to be held.

And then, because apparently life enjoys timing…

Last Thursday, a very handsome doctor stopped me on the Tube.

My immediate instinct was to do what any London woman does when a stranger approaches her, pretend I’m on a call or suddenly lose the ability to speak English.

Then I looked at him.

Very handsome.

Okay. Maybe I speak English.

We went on a date. We had a fantastic time, went to a comedy show, talked for hours.

Very cinematic.

He’s 26.

I’m still processing that particular detail.

And actually, maybe that’s part of what turning 40 is making me notice.

How many ideas I’ve carried about what a woman approaching 40 is supposed to look like. How she’s supposed to feel. What she should have figured out by now. Whether she should want a relationship or celebrate being alone. Whether she should be ambitious or content. Sexy or serious. Confident enough not to need reassurance but vulnerable enough to be authentic.

It’s exhausting.

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So, where do the clothes come into all of this?

I promise I haven’t forgotten this is supposed to be a newsletter about style.

But here’s something I’ve been thinking about.

We do with our wardrobes what we sometimes do with our lives. We dress for the woman we think we should be rather than the woman we actually are.

The cooler woman. The more successful woman. The woman who apparently has somewhere fabulous to go every Friday night.

And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to look beautiful, polished or powerful. I love dressing up. I love a good outfit.

What I don’t love is the idea that we have to keep that performance going even when nobody’s watching.

I want to wear the beautiful dress because I love it, not because I need people to think my life is beautiful.

And I want to be able to take it off, sit on my sofa, cry to a sad song, and not feel like I’ve somehow failed at being the confident woman I was that morning.

They’re both me.

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Anyway, I’m nearly 40.

And I think I’m getting a little bored of performing.

Not because I’ve got everything figured out. I have no idea what the next decade will look like, whether I’ll find the man I want to share my life with, or where my business will take me.

But I know I don’t want to spend another decade trying to make my life look a particular way.

I’d rather live it.

And maybe that’s where I’ve landed with all this talk about authenticity.

If I need someone else to recognise that I’m being authentic, I’m still performing for an audience.

Maybe being authentic is simply living your life without constantly checking how it looks from the outside.

I was actually supposed to publish something completely different last week. It’s called Being Pretty Is a Feeling, and it’s about how the features we criticise most can become the very things that make our style unmistakably ours.

I wrote it, I liked it, and for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to hit publish.

I’ll share it next week, I promise.

But today, this is what I wanted to tell you.

Maybe it’s the interview. Maybe it’s turning 40. Maybe it’s the hormones.

Probably all three.

And if you’re reading this feeling wonderfully confident about your life but also slightly sad, lonely, overwhelmed or simply in need of a good cry, I hope you know you don’t have to pick a side.

You can be all of it.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have approximately 47 things to do and two boys who will eventually want feeding.

Love,

Carolina x

P.S. If you’ve ever deliberately put on a sad song because you needed a good cry, please tell me which one. I’m always looking to expand my collection. I’ve had Love Me When It’s Hard by IngaRose on repeat lately. I think it’s AI-generated, but… it’s perfection.