I received this email a couple of days ago:

Hallo:

I like very much the site!

Here in Brazil I am the first woman became a model with 50 years old, than I created a group with old models. Now, we work in publicity and fashion. All models have 50 and more. Know us www.fiftymodels.com.br

Maria Rosa

How cool is that, I thought.  Women in Brazil know about FOF and Maria Rosa took the time to compose an email in English. I wish I could write Portuguese as well as she writes English. I couldn’t wait to get home to check out her site.

Although I didn’t understand one word on it, the photos of the attractive Brazilian FOFs spoke volumes. I applaud Maria Rosa for giving FOFs the platform they deserve, in a business traditionally reserved for 19 year olds. It’s about time one of our fashion icons decided to hire FOF models. FOF Donna Karen would be a perfect candidate. Get cracking Donna.

It was love at first sight when I saw the shoes in a catalog that came in the mail yesterday. They were my kind of shoes. Cute little flats in cool colors. And the store had my size, 11. I had to try them on as soon as possible. So after work, I took Rigby and walked 30 blocks to the shop. It was 7 pm and the shoe department was gloriously empty. When I tried on the flats, I was more in love than ever. They look a little like espadrilles, but they’re sexier and in satin. I wanted them in every color. “The minute the catalog hit, we were inundated with orders,” the cute, young salesman told me. “You’re lucky. The only reason we had them is because you wear a big size.” I went wild and bought the flats in three colors. I already know I’ll be wearing them all summer. I’m taking a pair on a business trip to Florida today.

After I married, my mother-in-law and I had the same name, although the spellings were slightly different. She: Gerry. Me: Geri. That’s where the similarity ended. She was slender, blonde, and elegant.  I was chunky, dark haired and decidedly inelegant.  She was cautious and dressed conservatively.  I took risks and dressed on this side of flamboyant.  She was a woman of few words. Not I. She didn’t like to spend money. I love to.

Eleanor Roosevelt sitting between her husband, Franklin, and her mother-in-law, Sara. The women had a contentious relationship.

I wasn’t comfortable around Gerry for many years.  I felt fat and sloppy around her. I was neither fat nor sloppy, but I was terribly insecure. Which brings me to my point.  When we lack confidence, we often become exasperated at others.  We give them power over us they don’t really have—and don’t usually want.  Self-confidence makes us feel happy.  We don’t worry about what others think about us. We pay more attention to what they think. We hear them better.

As my confidence increased over the years, I enjoyed, and appreciated, Gerry more. Her style started rubbing off on me. After her son and I divorced, she traveled with me to visit my son, in camp, a trip I’ll never forget.  She and I had become friends. We could talk about our differences with humor and understanding.

Gerry died at 89, about six years ago. I miss her.  She wasn’t a wicked mother-in-law, competing with me for her son. She was a woman, just like I was.