The Life Behind The Style
There’s a new style icon making the rounds in fashion, and she’s not 22. She probably has a signature perfume she’s worn for 30 years, a coat she paid too much for and would do it again, and absolutely no interest in being told what to wear.
Lately, fashion has been flirting with what some are calling nonna style. Think of it as a coastal grandmother after she’s had her espresso, traded the beach house for Milan, and decided a silk scarf and proper handbag wouldn’t kill her. It has the same grown-woman ease, but with more polish, more intention, and better shoes. Which, frankly, feels about right.
And while I’m always a little amused when fashion suddenly turns grown women into a trend, I do understand the appeal. What makes that woman interesting isn’t just the scarf or the handbag. It’s the life behind her. The confidence, yes, but also the history, the friendships, the losses, and the perspective that comes from living a full life. And last week, living mine felt more important than forcing myself to write Monday Musings.
I know some of you missed Monday Musings last week, and I appreciate that more than you know.
I sat down at this keyboard three different times, and every time I started, I couldn’t get past the first paragraph.
I never intended for this blog to become a diary of my personal life. I prefer to stay practical. But after years of sharing this space with you, the line between my closet and my reality has blurred in ways I didn’t plan. Last weekend was a rough one, and I couldn’t find words that weren’t too raw to share.
Last Saturday, my husband and I had dinner with a group of friends we’ve been gathering with for over forty years. We’ve shared everything together…the births of our children, their weddings, the deaths of our parents, and over the last decade, the loss of our own members to lung cancer. We’ve shared vacations, the kind of laughter that leaves you breathless, and the kind of tears that only true friends are allowed to see.
Last summer, we lost Bonnie, one of my personal heroes. After her stage 4 lung cancer diagnosis, she didn’t turn inward. She and her husband established a foundation in 2006 to help other lung cancer patients and fund research. That was just who she was. She was fighting her own battle and still looking out for everyone else. My husband had early-stage lung cancer, caught only because Bonnie had pushed all of us to get scanned.
She called me Punkin. I later found out she called others that, too, and somehow it didn’t matter. It still felt endearing. She was also the person who could walk down any sidewalk, glance down, and find a twenty-dollar bill. That kind of luck felt like it was built into her.
This was our first dinner party together since Bonnie died, and her husband hosted us at their home. When I walked into the kitchen and saw the care he’d taken, the appetizers arranged just so, and the table beautifully set, I almost said, “Bonnie would be proud of you.” I stopped myself because I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to say. I still don’t know if it was. But I thought it.
Then we sat down, and there was Bonnie’s place at the table, set as it always had been. It’s hard to explain what that does to a room.
We spent the evening doing what we’ve always done, talking, remembering, joking, and laughing in the way only old friends can. Bonnie had been such a big part of that laughter, which made her absence feel even more painful. When we said our goodbyes, we all hugged a little tighter and held on a little longer than usual.
It reminded me that while I spend my days helping you find the right blazer or the perfect neutral, clothes are really just the costumes for the lives we live with the people who matter most.
Bonnie’s empty chair was hard to look at. But I’m deeply grateful for the forty years of memories that still fill it.
So poigant, so inspiring. Thank you for encapsulating all of our lives, our loves and our losses in such beautiful words.
It sounds like Bonnie was an amazing person.
What a beautiful tribute to your amazing friend Bonnie. I am sitting at the gate in the airport terminal and had to stop the tears from coming. You are blessed to have such wonderful friends and can help support each other through this difficult time. God bless
Thank you for the beautiful blog this morning. Brought tears to my eyes!
Tracy
That was beautiful, very poignant. It is also something that a person in that stage of life can feel deeply.
Prayers to get thru your loss is sent to you with love.
What a beautiful tribute to a beautiful friend! In just a few words, you brought Bonnie to life for us and I’m sure many of us can identify with the feelings that this post evoked.
A truly lovely post.
What a lovely and meaningful message. The longer one is fortunate to live, the more one confronts the lost of beloved family and friends. Thank you for sharing these memories.
Thank you for sharing your lovely tribute to your friend Bonnie, and how your dinner party included her in the table setting. Honoring the memory of dear friends and family, and then the process of adjusting to the void they leave. What a lovely phrase – “clothes are really just the costumes for the lives we live with the people who matter most” how true.
Beautifully written. It’s so easy to get caught up in what is going on around us .. The older I get the more I’m really trying to focus on what I think is important and that is relationships. I am realizing that our lives are short . I want to make the best use of the time I have left and that means staying in meaningful relationships and letting some relationships slide. Sounds like you had a wonderful relationship with Bonnie. Sorry for your loss.
What a beautiful post and tribute to your friend, I had tears in my eyes as I was reading. When it comes down to it, isn’t this what life is really about? So sorry for your loss.
That must have been very tough and emotional for you and everyone else. I am older than you and so far have been fortunate to still have our best friends in our lives. I myself have had a tough 2025/2026; foot surgery, shingles (which I am still trying to recover from) and cataract surgery. I am a doer and hard to rest the body/mind to get well and back on my feet….but I am trying. When your health is being tested, you are right, it doesn’t matter if a stripe blazer doesn’t work with a polkadot shirt. 🙂 When you lose a love one, or your health is tested; it gives you pause. Take care of yourself.
This is just beautiful, Jennifer. Thank you so much for sharing. Big hugs to you!
Jennifer, thank you for being vulnerable in this space and sharing that experience with us. It’s a good reminder to never take those “ordinary” moments, like sharing dinner with friends, for granted. Also a powerful reminder to stay present in those moments. I am so sorry for your loss, and may Bonnie’s memory continue to be a blessing!
Your blog was very touching today. Remembering your friend Bonnie in such a way brought tears. Every person we meet leaves a little bit of themselves along the way. We have been so fortunate to have met and shared our lives with them. 💕
I’ve had moments of grief pop up as I continue my life journey without my mother. All you can do is roll with them. Out of curiosity I took an online “test” to gauge my grief and one of themes seemed to be “are you avoiding things that remind you of the loss to an extreme?”
Not to sound like a Millennial, but I feel like having a dinner party with your friend-group and being sad about the one who isn’t there is better for your mental health than avoiding the friend-group because the memory of you friend is too painful to confront. We have to process our sadness and it’s uncomfortable.
I hope you had her favorite dessert or wine and will in the future be able to experience the joy that she brought to your relationship with her memories.
So sorry for your loss. Glad you have good memories of Bonnie. Praying that the God of comfort will comfort you
What a beautiful story and tribute to your friend. Thank you for sharing such an intimate part of your life with us. I think that there are many of us who have those long term friendships and wonder what and when the table will get smaller, and the get togethers less frequent. Thanks again.
Jennifer- so sorry to hear your friend passed away. As we age it’s hard to imagine life without our family and those friends we spent years with.