Free Let's Just Say It Wasn't Pretty by Diane Keaton

its own delicious secret? Victoria had one.
    I always thought feminine meant delicate, frightened, and helpless. Because of Cary Grant’s allure, and the thought of dancing through life in black and white, I’ve always been drawn to men’s clothes. Now that I’m sixty-seven, I’m aware that fear is not gender-based. You could call a good two-thirds of my wardrobe an impenetrable fortress. By this I mean the hats that hide the head, the gloves that hide the fingers, the long-sleeved turtlenecks that hide both the arms and the neck,the leggings that hide the legs, and the boots that hide the feet.
    Let’s take the turtleneck. Turtlenecks are particularly underrated. Buy one. I dare you. Give one a try. Turtlenecks cushion, shield, and insulate a person from harm. Never let a turtleneck’s collar sag. Get smart and sew stays at both side seams. It will keep your turtleneck gravity-free. Make sure the fabric isn’t too bulky, unless you want a linebacker’s neck. If you take my advice, trust me, your head will be framed to perfection. Buy one. Be brave. If it turns out that you begin to wear turtlenecks as often as I do, and you’re my age, and you’re not Cary Grant, you will run the risk of receiving a fair amount of criticism. Even though turtlenecks worked well for my costumes in
Something’s Gotta Give
, there was an implied criticism when Harry Sanborn, played by Jack Nicholson, says, “I just have one question: What’s with the turtlenecks? I mean, it’s the middle of summer.” Erica, played by me, replies, “Well, I guess I’m just a turtleneck kind of gal.” Harry: “You never get hot?” Erica: “No.” Harry: “Never?” Erica: “Not lately.” And it’s true, I never get hot.
    At this point, no one criticizes Dexter’s choice of Pink underwear. She’s not a Victoria’s Secret model. She isn’t wearing her “Let’s Party” Pink boy shorts on display. Online recently, I saw a paparazzi picture of myself under the headline “Diane Keaton and Her Daughter.” We were on the streets ofBeverly Hills. It was a study in contrasts. She had on a pair of Old Navy USC red Trojan shorts, flip-flops, and a pale blue H&M sweatshirt with iPod wires sticking out of her ears. True to form, I was duded out in black leather platform boots, gray-and-black plaid ski pants, a black Uniqlo Jil Sander coat with a four-inch-wide belt cinched in at my waist, a white shirt, polka-dot gloves, and the ever present wide-brimmed hat. It was seventy-eight degrees outside. I did not look like Cary Grant, and Dexter did not look like Stephanie Seymour. We looked like the yin and yang of life, Frick and Frack, the Odd Couple. No one would assume we were mother and daughter. Not only was the age difference working against us, but so was the choice of how we present ourselves to the world. That was the truth as documented in a paparazzi photograph posted online. Underneath the photograph was this comment: “Actress Diane Keaton stepped out wearing yet another one of her Annie Hall–inspired ensembles to go Christmas shopping in Beverly Hills. However as the 65-year-old confidently strutted ahead, her young daughter Dexter trailed behind, possibly in embarrassment.” What the photographer did not capture, and what the commenter missed, was this: under Dexter’s casual running shorts and hooded sweatshirt was the exuberant world of a private imagination at play.
    As for shopping? Think Big. Think Small. Think Different. Beauty Outside. Beast Inside. American by Birth. Rebel byChoice. Make the Most of Now. Because You’re Worth It. When the World Zigs, Zag. Decry Complacency. Think Outside the Bun. Have It Your Way. Just Do It. If You’ve Got It, Flaunt It. Does She Or Doesn’t She? The United Colors of Benetton. We’re not liberal America or conservative America—we’re part of the United States of America. You’re you. I’m me. And Dexter’s Dexter. It’s just as okay to be the old flamboyant as it is to be the