The Great Midlife Disappearing Act (And Why It’s Actually A Mercy)

Thursday, 12 February 2026

It happened on the school holidays.

There I was happily browsing the sale racks, minding my own business, wearing a perfectly acceptable outfit and one of the nicer bags I’d purchased during The Great Lockdown Shopping Spree of 2021. I was feeling good. And then a gorgeous influencer-type in her twenties walked in.

She didn’t do anything special. She was just young. Beautiful. Flawless skin. Put together. But in an instant, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The two sales assistants, who had barely looked up from their conversation when I walked in, were suddenly all over her, in a hurry to realign themselves around her.

She was either a big important someone, or I had officially become a ghost.

Welcome to middle-aged invisibility.

There’s a specific kind of unspoken pride that we carry in our youth. We get used to being the protagonists. We think the world is watching us, so we dress for the audience. We buy the clothes and the shoes, we chase the trends, and we cultivate the look, because we think our value is tied to our visibility. Even before we had social media, influencers, or selfies, this was true.

But then these in-between years hit. Suddenly, you aren’t the ingenue anymore. You’re the “Ma’am.” YOU’RE THE GRANDMOTHER. You’re the person someone holds the door for, and not because they’re flirting but because they were raised to be polite to their elders.

I’ll be honest. My ego kind of hated it.

But then I took a deep breath.

To be honest, this invisibility isn’t a bad thing. When the world stops looking at us, dissecting us, and no longer cares about our appearance, we have the freedom to stop performing. The beauty of midlife is no longer caring if anyone likes how you look. It’s also the hard won not-caring about inconsequential minutiae full stop.

If I’m honest, I do recognise the vanity and pride at the core of my shopping habit. The outfit-of-the-day pics offered up as bait for likes and attention. But the Bible tells us that charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting. And it tells us that to set us free.

Now is the time to enjoy the shade.

There’s a profound purpose in this season of life. If the Gospels exhort us to decrease so that Christ can increase, then middle-aged invisibility can be taken as a head start on that mission.

So while I disappearing from the world’s peripheral vision, I’ve never had my eyes more open to the One who made me. And honestly? I’m a lot happier not worrying if anyone thinks I’m cool.

Here’s to learning to trade the front row for the quiet corner.