Old Jane, New Jane…
As I move on to the next stage in my life and career, it was about time I not only updated myself, but my website too. So, without further ado, welcome the new, colorful and dynamic website and the newly invigorated and unconventional Jane!
Old Jane
Like many insecure women I know, I was always something of a chameleon. I may not have known who I was, but I had the ability to turn myself into whoever I thought I needed to be in order to fit in — or, whoever I thought you needed me to be.
You only had to look at my hair over the years for a clue as to what was going on inside: blonde streaks meant I was trying to fit in; brunette meant I was hiding, and pink signified the beginning of my no longer needing to fit in. Finally, four years ago, letting the grey show through was a sign that I was moving closer to self-acceptance.
For when we don’t know who we are — or worry that who we are isn’t good enough — we can hide behind luxury labels, jewellery or indeed a persona we create.
But in doing so we deny ourselves the ability to connect with others — for heaven forbid anyone should see through to the real us.
When I turned fifty I knew I had to figure out - finally - who I was. Perhaps more importantly, who I would be if I no longer cared what anyone thought about me.
It has take a few years, but the Rewilding process is in full effect…
New Jane
Some of the things I learned about myself when I stopped caring what others thought are:
My intuition is stronger than I knew, and must always be trusted. Whenever I have ignored my gut intuition that a person, or situation, isn’t right, whenever I have overridden that because I wanted something and chose to ignore it, that intuition always, always ended up being right.
I am far less conventional than I expected. Because I had no idea who I was, I spent decades trying to shoehorn myself into roles: bestselling author/suburban mom (although I NEVER owned a pair of Lulu Lemons)/gracious hostess. I tried on parts, some of which lasted for years. And none of them were authentic. The authentic me, it turns out, is a free spirit, who is happiest dancing to the beat of her own drum.
I love dancing. I had always felt far too self-conscious to let go and lose myself in the music. These days, there is nothing I love more. I truly don’t care what anyone thinks about what I look like.
I hate looking like everyone else. In fact, my true style icon appears to be (slightly worryingly), a mix of Keith Richards c. 1968, with a dash of Anita Pallenberg and of course the great love of my life, Talitha Getty.
My friend Trino calls me an old hippie. I think what she means to say is that I am a Bohemian Goddess.