How to Manage Invisibility
It’s a superpower… and I grossly underestimated the joy it would bring me.
In comic books and movies, invisibility is portrayed as an elite superpower, allowing the bearer of this skill to navigate the world unnoticed.
Turns out, all you need to harness this power is to be a middle-aged woman. I can walk around the world and fly just under the radar.
I can sit at a bar for hours and never be approached, hit on, or bothered.
If a crime were to occur nearby, not a single witness would recall my presence (not even the Law & Order bartenders with extraordinary recollection abilities).
I can walk around a store and go unnoticed until someone’s cart collides with mine and suddenly I break into visibility in front of their startled eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry! Didn’t see you there!”
I know you didn’t… I know. It’s awesome.
I’ve stopped wearing makeup 90% of the time, I stopped wearing bras during Covid lockdowns, and I typically now dress for comfort over fashion.
I am, admittedly and with delight, a part of the background.
As someone with a certain degree of social anxieties, being approached in public, by a stranger no less, is terrible. I’m not sure how to respond to it and I’m always flustered.
When I was younger, I… well, I looked younger. I wore makeup and got a fair degree of unsolicited interactions while eating out, shopping, or even working. I was always polite, but every interaction made me anxious. I never enjoyed the experience, if I’m being totally honest, even if I felt a little flattered.
When I would visit larger cities like New York and Chicago, part of the allure was the total anonymity one could achieve in such a place. I could walk the streets for days on end, very rarely encounter the same person twice, and never got a passing glance from passersby.
I could simply just be.
Growing up in a very small town as the daughter of one of the church pastors, I was recognizable. When pulled over for speeding as a teenager, the deputy would frequently look at my license, push his hat back, ask “You the Preacher’s kid?” and, when I nodded nervously, hand my license back with a warning to “slow it down now, leadfoot.”
Sounds nice until you got home and realize instead of giving you a ticket, they called your parent and snitched.
Being readily identifiable, and all the social responsibilities that went along with that, was tiresome, and I longed for a life where I could operate as I pleased and not have to answer for any benign action or comment, clothing choice or hairstyle. I wanted to just live. Anonymously and privately.
Moving to larger towns and mid-size cities has proven to be quite enjoyable for me, as I can largely operate in this way, but the occasional delight in running into a genuine friend at a store or restaurant is a welcome surprise. Recognizing and being recognized by someone who isn’t concerned with gossiping but in catching up and swapping some chit chat over coffee is my happy medium.
Regardless, unsolicited interactions kept happening up until the pandemic. In the early days of the lock-downs, we all kept wide berths in public anyway. No one’s grocery cart was banging into mine when we were all strictly six feet apart. And no one was hitting on anyone whose face was obscured by a mask. I started to feel this sense of invisibility then, and it crept up on me how much I enjoyed it.
Turns out, I’m basically a salty old lady that wants to be left alone (at the ripe young age of 41).
When masks became a thing of the past, I continued my new habits, and I discovered that I now possessed the secrets to the cloak of invisibility:
- Let the gray roots grow out a little and have low maintenance hairstyles. (I even experimented with white-girl dreads for a while, which wasn’t for me, but I found a great deal of freedom and enjoyment in having a shaved head for a bit).
- Don’t wear makeup, or only wear it for you. I like doing my brows as I over-plucked in the 90’s and I feel like Voldemort when my eyebrows aren’t defined. Otherwise, I nixed the heavy cosmetic routine, and in doing so, I actually started liking my face more and more… enjoying it as it is without examining the ‘flaws’ I needed to cover with concealer, contouring, and shading.
- Wear clothing that’s comfortable and functional. For me, that’s tanks with light built-in support, shorts and leggings (with pockets — a must), and a couple of great pairs of jeans… I’m currently a big fan of bell bottoms. I stock up on these when they’re on sale and I’m set. A couple of sundresses and a wrap dress for date nights with my husband rounds out my wardrobe.
- And finally, wear earbuds or headphones as a final sign that you are uninterested in conversation.
And then… enjoy! Move around the world, observe it, sit at a cafe and people watch, and relax as you become part of the scenery!
Only some of this is tongue-in-cheek (and bravo if you’ve realized this by now). The wealth of knowledge and wisdom amassed by a woman by the time she reaches middle age is largely eclipsed by the value of her physical appearance.
There are articles and listicles galore about how to dress as an older woman in the workplace, how to command respect in middle age in a corporate setting, how it’s getting difficult to even get a job past 40, and few of these even mention her qualifications, education, or experience. The focus is solely on appearance.
This is not hyperbole, this is reality.
Women past a certain age simply are invisible, and it’s up to us whether we choose to embrace this new superpower or to combat it with over-the-top fashion and hair choices, plastic surgery and cosmetic procedures, or bold career moves [all of which I wholly endorse as each woman sees fit].
I realize my tendency to embrace anonymity and invisibility is not shared by everyone, and some of my favorite social media accounts are those of older women who wear positively fabulous loud, eccentric fashion, who dominate the public eye in art, literature, music, and who refuse to be defined by antiquated concepts of what it means to age and to exist as a middle-to-post-middle-age woman in our [largely visual] society.
I will cheer them on from over here, sipping my latte at a table, happily wearing my cloak of invisibility and watching the world go by.
My name is Melissa Corrigan, and I’m a freelance writer/thought sharer/philosopher in coastal Virginia. I am a mom, a wife, a veteran, and so much more. I deeply enjoy sharing my thoughts and receiving feedback that sparks genuine, respectful conversation.
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