Kelli Enlow on Reinventing Yourself After 60, Aging With Confidence, and Finding Your Style

I spotted Kelli Enlow on Instagram and thought here is a woman we need to get to know better. She has moved more than 25 times, survived cervical cancer at 35, began modeling and commercial acting at 51 and returned back to it again at 70. She let her white hair have its say about ten years ago. Somewhere in the middle of all that reinvention, she picked up a camera and started photographing women the way she’d always wanted to be seen herself. Her project Rooted & Radiant grew out of that very feeling—the sense of becoming invisible that so many of us know—and became a portrait series celebrating women 60 and beyond. At 77, Kelli is, by her own description, “still becoming.” I loved every minute of this conversation, and I think you will too.

Kelli, you’ve built a career around capturing women’s stories through your lens, but your own story is equally compelling. You’ve moved at least 25 times, reinvented yourself more than once, and came through a serious health battle. How did all of that shape the woman and the artist you are today?

I don’t think all the moves changed me as much as they revealed me. Every place I lived asked me to begin again—to make new friends, build a new life, and discover another part of myself. Along the way I survived cervical cancer, reinvented my career more than once—including stepping into modeling and commercial acting at age 51—and learned that life rarely follows the path we imagine. I wasn’t just moving from city to city. Each new beginning revealed another part of me. Even when I was young, I always had a feeling I was going to be a late bloomer. Like many women, I spent years figuring out who I was. I admired strong, beautiful women in movies and, without realizing it, borrowed little pieces of them because I wasn’t yet confident in myself. That wasn’t a bad thing—it was simply part of growing. Through mistakes, successes, heartbreak, and new beginnings, I gradually uncovered the woman who had been there all along. Today, at 77, I no longer feel the need to be anyone other than myself. I’m simply comfortable in my own skin. I think that’s one of the greatest gifts that comes with age. We may never be perfect, but we do become more authentic. There’s a comfortable confidence that comes from finally feeling at home with yourself. That journey shaped not only the woman I am today but also the photographer I am. When someone stands in front of my camera, I’m not looking for perfection. I’m looking for the moment they stop performing and simply let their guard down. That’s where the real beauty lives.

You started acting and modeling at 51 and then returned again at 70. What inspired you to take that leap? 

I was 51 when I decided to try acting and modeling. I’d always been curious, and one day I finally thought, why not? I took acting classes, had headshots made, found an agent, and before long I was auditioning. I have to laugh because my knees would literally knock before auditions. Standing in front of casting directors and putting yourself out there was way outside my comfort zone. But the more I auditioned, the more comfortable I became, and before long I found myself actually enjoying the whole experience. It turned into an adventure I never expected. I was booked by Holland America and flown to Half Moon Cay in the Bahamas, where we filmed while riding jet skis, sailing, and even feeding stingrays. Another favorite was a commercial for UNC Health in Wilmington, North Carolina, where I was the focus of the entire campaign. Like every actor, I had plenty of auditions that didn’t turn into jobs, but eventually I realized that was simply part of the business. Once I stopped taking rejection personally, every audition became another opportunity to learn, meet interesting people, and have fun. After stepping away for several years, I decided to audition again at 70. One of my favorite bookings was modeling for Choctaw Casino. It reminded me that exciting opportunities don’t come with an age limit. I’m so glad I said yes. Acting gave me some wonderful adventures, introduced me to fascinating people, and showed me that we’re capable of so much more than we often believe.

You created Rooted & Radiant after beginning to feel a little invisible in the world. This is something so many of us over 60 relate to. This series features women in their 60s and older, living full, creative, purposeful lives. Have any of their stories surprised you, or changed the way you think about your own aging?

One of the greatest surprises has been discovering how much we all have in common. No matter our backgrounds or careers, most of us still want the same things. We want to know that we matter, that we’re seen, and that we’re still contributing to the lives of the people we love. Many women underestimate the impact they have. We may think we’re “just” a grandmother, a friend, a neighbor, a volunteer, or the one who remembers birthdays and gathers everyone together. But those quiet contributions are often what hold families together. We contribute far more than we realize. Rooted & Radiant has changed the way I think about my own aging. I used to wonder what was ahead for me. Now I think much more about how much I still have to share. Every woman I’ve photographed reminds me that our value doesn’t diminish with age—it deepens. We carry so many roles – encouragers, mentors, storytellers, memory keepers, and living reminders of where our families came from. I don’t fear getting older anymore. If anything, I feel more useful, more grateful, and more excited about what’s still ahead than I ever expected. 

I love the name Rooted & Radiant. It says so much about this season of life. How did you arrive at it, and what does it mean to you personally?

Rooted & Radiant wasn’t born because I wanted to create another portrait project. It grew out of a very personal place. As I entered my early seventies and allowed my white hair to finally emerge, I began to understand something many women experience—we can begin to feel a little invisible. Yet everything inside me knew that wasn’t the whole story. I wanted to create something that celebrated the richness of this season of life and reminded women that we don’t become less with age—we become more. The name came naturally, almost as if it had been waiting for me. The older I’ve become, the more I’ve come to appreciate the meaning of being rooted. When I look at a magnificent tree, I realize its greatest strength isn’t what I see above the ground—it’s the roots beneath it. Those roots deepen over time, anchoring the tree through every season and every storm. I think our lives are much the same. As we grow older, our roots deepen too. We gain wisdom through experience, resilience through life’s challenges, and a deeper appreciation for what truly matters. To me, radiant isn’t about looking younger. It’s the confidence that comes from knowing who you are. Our radiance doesn’t come despite our roots—it comes because of them. For me, that’s what Rooted & Radiant means—strength below the surface and light that naturally follows. Rooted & Radiant reminds me that I’m still becoming. Those two words—and the little subtitle, Still Becoming—have become more than a tagline. They’ve become a philosophy I try to live by. I don’t believe we ever stop growing, learning, or discovering new parts of ourselves. My hope is that every woman who experiences Rooted & Radiant walks away feeling truly seen—not because of the portrait itself, but because she’s been reminded of who she’s always been. One woman looked at her portrait and asked, “Is that really me?” She felt cherished, honored, and deeply grateful. Another told me she no longer saw herself as “boring,” a label she’d carried for years before our session. Moments like those remind me that sometimes the most meaningful transformation isn’t in the photograph—it’s in the way a woman begins to see herself.

You’ve said that women don’t fade as they get older, they become more. I love that!  How do you think our relationship with fashion and personal style evolves as we age?

I think our relationship with style evolves right alongside our relationship with ourselves. My clothes reflected that journey. There were seasons when I dressed to be noticed, when I dressed to fit in professionally, and seasons when I dressed to match the role I was playing in life. I realized I was searching for an identity as much as I was searching for a wardrobe. Gradually, something shifted. I stopped asking, “What should I wear?” or “Does this make me look fat?” and started asking, “Is this me?” 

Today, I care less about trends and much more about authenticity. I want my clothing to reflect the woman I’ve become. I laugh now and then when I try on an outfit that would have looked fabulous on my thirty-year-old body but doesn’t quite have the same effect anymore. Standing in the dressing room, I don’t feel disappointed—I smile. It’s not about what I can no longer wear. It’s about understanding what expresses me now. Style isn’t about dressing younger. It’s about dressing honestly. Color has become one of the most meaningful parts of that journey. 

More than twenty-five years ago, my dear English friend, Lynn Delaney, gave me a professional color analysis, and it completely changed the way I choose my clothing—and the way I see myself. I no longer choose colors because they’re fashionable. I choose them because they bring out the best in me. Soft ivory brings warmth to my face, certain reds energize me, and sky blue has always been one of my happiest colors. I’ve learned that the right color doesn’t just complement our skin, eyes, and hair—it reflects who we are. Today, style isn’t about looking younger. It’s about letting the outside reflect the confidence and joy we’ve earned on the inside.

You juggled real estate and photography and built something entirely your own in the second half of life. What would you say to women over 60 who are feeling the pull toward something new but aren’t sure they have the courage to begin?

I would tell her that courage rarely shows up before you begin. It usually arrives after you’ve taken the first step. Without a doubt, I can honestly say there were many more times I didn’t know what I was doing than times I did. I wasn’t fearless—I was simply willing to give it a go. Every challenge I faced and every success I experienced taught me something about who I was. I also learned from every failure. One of my favorite sayings has always been “No Fear,” but over the years I’ve realized it doesn’t mean I never feel afraid. It means I don’t let fear make my decisions or cripple me. Whenever something scares me, I pay attention because it usually means there’s an opportunity to grow. I also like to ask one simple question: “What have you got to lose?” At this stage of life, we’re no longer trying to prove ourselves to anyone. We have the freedom to explore, create, learn, travel, start a business, volunteer, write a book, take the class, or simply say yes to something we’ve always wanted to try. You may not discover what you’re capable of on the first try, and that’s okay. You might discover something even more important—you might discover yourself. You don’t have to know how. You only have to be willing to begin. 

How has your own personal style evolved over the decades, and is there a version of yourself, a decade, a city, a chapter, where you felt most fully yourself in how you dressed and showed up in the world?

My style has evolved right along with my life. One of the people who influenced me the most was my dear friend, Eloise. Early in my advertising career, she introduced me to a more classic style—think Brooks Brothers and timeless pieces. She taught me that clothing wasn’t simply about looking nice. It could say something about who we are. Over the years, I’ve made that style my own. I’ve loosened up quite a bit and discovered that I enjoy mixing classic pieces with things that simply make me smile. The chapter where I feel most like myself is the one I’m living now. I never really know what I’m going to wear until I open my closet. Whatever catches my eye that morning is usually what I put on. Somehow it always comes together. These days I don’t overthink it. I simply wear what I enjoy. One of the nicest things about getting older is feeling comfortable in your own skin. I think that confidence naturally finds its way into what we wear. 

You’ve lived in Hawaii, Colorado, Virginia, Ohio, and Florida, among other places. Has living in so many different environments influenced your aesthetic both behind the camera and in your own wardrobe and personal style?

Absolutely. Every place I’ve lived has left something in my closet, but more importantly, it has left something in me. I don’t think I’ve collected clothes as much as I’ve collected experiences. Living throughout the West nurtured my love of western style, beautiful boots, silver jewelry, turquoise, and pieces that tell a story. Hawaii brought relaxed resort wear, colorful sarongs, and a whole new appreciation for light and color. Charlotte was a season of timeless classics and elegant dinners. Ohio taught me about scarves, coats, and layering through long winters. Palm Beach was a season of yoga, healing, and simplicity. Every place has influenced the way I see beauty—not only in what I wear, but also in what I photograph. Different landscapes, architecture, people, and cultures have all shaped the way I notice light, appreciate color, and tell stories through my camera. Every morning I put on my lipstick—not because someone else expects me to, but because it changes the way I feel. It’s my way of saying, “I’m ready.” Ready to create, ready to meet people, and ready for whatever the day brings. It may sound like a small thing, but it makes me smile every time I put it on. Sometimes a lipstick is just a lipstick…and sometimes it’s a little reminder to greet the day with confidence, joy, and a bit of verve.

As someone who helps women craft their visual story through personal branding photography, what’s the single most important thing a woman over 60 can do to show up more powerfully and authentically in her photos?

Stop worrying about looking perfect. The women who photograph beautifully aren’t the ones with flawless skin or perfect features. They’re the ones who stop focusing on what they think is wrong with them and start allowing their personality to shine through. So many of us walk in front of a camera carrying a list of flaws we’ve convinced ourselves everyone else sees. We wonder if people will notice our wrinkles, our neck, our arms, or the extra weight we’ve gained over the years. What I’ve learned as a photographer is that none of those things are what people remember. They remember your smile. Your eyes. Your warmth. Your laughter. Your confidence. When a woman relaxes and begins talking about someone she loves or something she’s passionate about, something wonderful happens. Her face softens. Her eyes light up. That’s the woman I want to photograph. I’d encourage every woman to stop looking for what she thinks is wrong and start seeing what’s always been beautiful. The camera has a remarkable way of revealing what we often have trouble seeing in ourselves. The most beautiful photographs aren’t really about how we look. They’re about allowing ourselves to be seen. 

You survived cervical cancer when your kids were in grade school, and you’ve spoken about the quiet shift it created in how you see each day. How has that experience influenced the intentionality you bring to your work and to how you live?

When I was diagnosed with cervical cancer, my children were still young. It was a very serious surgery—one that only a handful of surgeons in the country performed—and I was incredibly fortunate that one of them practiced in Fort Lauderdale, where we lived. What I remember most isn’t the fear. It was the peace I felt. Everyone around me seemed frightened, but deep inside I believed I was going to be okay. I can’t really explain it. I simply knew. After my surgery, I learned something that deeply touched me. Friends had organized prayer groups all over the country. I had no idea. Even an old friend—someone I’d lost touch with after my divorce—came to see me before surgery because she wanted to apologize in case I didn’t make it. Those moments reminded me how deeply we’re connected, even when we don’t realize it. I truly believe those prayers carried me through one of the most difficult seasons of my life. When it was over, something unexpected happened. I found myself grateful—not because I had cancer, but because of what it taught me. It gave me a much deeper appreciation for ordinary days, the people I love, and the gift of simply being here. I stopped assuming there would always be more time. That experience still shapes the way I live. It reminds me to tell people I love them while I can, to stop putting dreams on hold, and to create what feels meaningful instead of waiting for the “right” time. Every day feels like a gift, and I try to live each one with gratitude.

Where can my readers find you, and follow Rooted & Radiant? If they’re in the Dallas area, how do they book a session with you? 

The best place to find me is on my website, KelliShannon.com, where you’ll find my photography, Rooted & Radiant stories, and information about portrait and branding sessions. I also love connecting on Instagram and Facebook, where I share photographs, stories, and little glimpses into my creative life. If you’re in the Dallas–Fort Worth area and are interested in a portrait or branding session—or if you’re a woman 60 or older who would like to be part of the Rooted & Radiant project—I would truly love to hear from you. My favorite sessions aren’t just about creating beautiful photographs. They’re about helping people see themselves with fresh eyes and recognize the beauty that’s been there all along. 

Kelli, your skin looks amazing in your photos.  As someone who has lived everywhere from Hawaii to Colorado to Ohio, your skin has seen it all. What does your skincare routine look like today, and when did you start taking it seriously?

I laugh when people compliment my skin because they don’t know what it’s been through! These days my routine is actually pretty simple. I wear hats, use sunscreen every day, see my dermatologist regularly, and have faithfully used Retin-A for years. I also pay close attention to ingredients, which is one reason I enjoy FarmHouse Fresh products. I appreciate not only how they care for my skin but also their commitment to rescuing animals. The reason I take skincare so seriously goes back to my younger years. Growing up in Texas—and later living in Florida, Hawaii, and other sunny places—I loved being outdoors. I spent years trying to get as tan as I possibly could. Back then, we simply didn’t understand what all that sun would eventually do to our skin. By my thirties, I developed areas on my face that wouldn’t heal. My dermatologist treated me with Efudex, a topical chemotherapy cream that removed years of sun damage. For many weeks, my face—including my lips—became one giant scab. It wasn’t pretty, but it changed my life. I’ve also come to believe that healthy skin starts from the inside out. Along with taking care of my skin on the outside, I try to nourish it from within. I add collagen to my coffee every morning and drink Green Vibrance because it’s such a nutrient-dense supplement. I’m simply trying to take good care of myself and the skin I’m in.

Self-care means something different to every woman. For you, is it a long skincare ritual, a walk, time behind the camera, or something else entirely?

Self-care has become much simpler as I’ve gotten older. Of course I take care of my health, but the things that truly restore me don’t come in a bottle. I feel most at peace when I’m outside. You’ll often find me walking through the woods, tending my ever-growing collection of plant children, reading a good book, praying, exercising, or spending time with the people I love. And yes…I really do hug trees now and then! Being in nature has a way of calming my heart and reminding me to slow down. Photography is another form of self-care for me. When I’m behind my camera, I’m completely present. Whether I’m photographing a woman, a hot air balloon drifting across the sky, or a tiny flower most people would walk right past, the rest of the world seems to disappear for a while. It reminds me to slow down, pay attention, and notice beauty in the ordinary. Those simple moments are what feed my soul. 

There is so much noise around anti-aging products and procedures right now. What’s your personal philosophy around aging and caring for yourself from the inside out?

I’ve never been comfortable with the idea that aging is something we should fight. To me, growing older is a privilege. Not everyone gets the opportunity, and I’m grateful that I have. Every decade has given me something the one before couldn’t—more confidence, more freedom, more gratitude, more curiosity, and a much deeper appreciation for life. Why would I want to erase the very years that made me who I am? About ten years ago, I had an honest conversation with myself. My white hair was determined to come in, and I realized I was spending so much time and money trying to cover it up that I finally asked myself, “What am I doing?” It wasn’t an overnight decision. In fact, it took me about six months to gather the courage. My wonderful hairdresser, Martin, became my partner in the transition. We cut my hair shorter, added highlights where my silver was already shining through, and slowly let nature take over. I was excited. Proud, actually. Dick whispered, “You know it’s going to make you look older.” I smiled…and listened to my own intuition instead. 

People often ask what I use on my silver hair. House of Dear Thickening Cream with Rose of Jericho has been a longtime favorite, along with Kérastase Initialiste. I appreciate products that nourish my hair rather than promise miracles. Wow, Dream Coat has been a staple too. 

One of my grandchildren once asked me why I had so many wrinkles. I smiled and said, “Because that’s what happens when you’re lucky enough to live as long as I have.” I hope that’s what they remember—that growing older isn’t something to fear. It’s something to be grateful for. Every wrinkle and every silver strand tell the story of a life that’s been fully lived, deeply loved…and still becoming. Having survived cervical cancer at 35, I’ve always felt as though I was given forty-two extra years. Every birthday since then has felt like a gift, and I’m grateful for every single one.

Every woman I admire has a few wardrobe heroes, pieces she reaches for again and again that just feel like her. What are yours?

Oh, I definitely have my favorites! My wardrobe has become a collection of things I truly enjoy wearing rather than what’s currently trending. I’ll probably never part with my Ralph Lauren soft leather fringe jacket. My Lucchese boots have been with me for more than thirty years, and my Wrangler jeans always feel like an old friend, even though the fit varies from time to time. Let’s just say they’re my personal size barometer! One thing I really enjoy is mixing classic pieces with something unexpected. A simple top might end up paired with a colorful skirt, great boots, or a fun piece of jewelry, likely a necklace my B-I-L, Kern, created for me… I think style should have a little personality. I love the creativity of Anthropologie, anything with a relaxed boho feel, and if it’s red… I’m probably interested! I’ve also never outgrown my love of periwinkle blue. I crave color—not just in my wardrobe, but in my home, too. I’m surrounded by meaningful, vibrant pieces of art that make me happy every day. When it comes to beauty, I’ve found a few favorites over the years. Charlotte Tilbury lipsticks are at the top of the list. Tell Laura is my favorite orange-red, and when I want something softer, I reach for Sexy Sienna. I also enjoy Jo Malone fragrances because they’re light enough that I can actually wear them. Myrrh & Tonka has been a longtime favorite, and lately I’ve been enjoying Raspberry Ripple in a travel size. 

Where do you invest in your wardrobe, and where do you save? And has that philosophy shifted as you’ve gotten older?

It definitely has. These days I’m much more intentional about what I bring home. I don’t need a closet full of clothes—I want a closet full of things I love wearing. I’m happy to invest in quality because I’ve learned that well-made pieces tend to stay with me for years. I’d rather buy one thing I truly love than several things I only sort of like. At the same time, I’ve never outgrown my love of finding a treasure at Marshalls. Some of my favorite pieces weren’t expensive at all—they were simply waiting for me to discover them. There’s something so satisfying about finding something beautiful at a great price. Before I buy anything, I usually ask myself three questions: Do I love it? Do I feel good when I wear it? And will I actually wear it? If the answer isn’t yes to all three, it usually stays in the store. I’ve learned that a thoughtful wardrobe brings me far more joy than a crowded closet. I’d rather have fewer things I love than a closet full of “maybe someday.” 

Do you have a personal style icon, someone whose approach to dressing inspires you?  Has that person changed over the decades?

Absolutely. Like many women, I’ve admired different people at different stages of my life. I loved Diane Keaton’s confidence and the effortless way she mixed timeless classics with something unexpected. More recently I’ve been drawn to Ali MacGraw’s beautiful simplicity, natural elegance, and relaxed confidence. Neither woman looked like she was trying too hard, and I think that’s what appealed to me. These days, though, I don’t spend much time trying to dress like anyone else. I’ve learned what I enjoy wearing, what flatters me, and what feels natural to me. That’s been one of the nicest parts of growing older. I still admire women with great style, but now I appreciate them for inspiration rather than imitation. I think that’s a much happier place to be. 

You’ve said your mother told you that you can do anything you want if you want it badly enough. Has that belief ever been tested to its limits?  If so, what got you through?

My mother used to tell us, “You can do anything if you want it badly enough.” That simple sentence became one of the guiding beliefs of my life. The funny thing is, I rarely knew exactly what I was doing when I started something new. I simply wanted it enough to begin. At just the right time in my life, one of my earliest mentors, Jack Drury, reinforced that lesson in a different way. Whenever I’d say, “I’ve never done that before,” he’d smile and answer, “You’ll figure it out.” Between my mother’s encouragement and Jack’s belief in me, I stopped waiting until I felt ready and started trusting that I could learn along the way. 

Over the years, I had plenty of opportunities to put those words to the test. There were plenty of times I didn’t know what the next step looked like. I just kept taking it. That’s how we learn to trust ourselves—not because we have all the answers, but because we’re willing to keep going. If I could sum it all up, it would be this: Trust yourself a little sooner. Trust your instincts. You won’t have all the answers—and that’s okay. You’ll figure it out. 

You found your way back to your childhood sweetheart, Dick, after decades apart. What has that relationship taught you about starting over and staying open to love and joy in the second half of life?

Starting over with Dick taught me that love looks very different in the second half of life. We had known each other since we were children, so there was already a foundation of memories that gave us a deep sense of comfort. I knew his wonderful parents, loved spending time in their home, and even adored Fanny, the woman who helped raise him. Somehow, those memories stayed with me all those years. When we found each other again, life wasn’t perfect, and neither were we. We had both lived full lives, made mistakes, experienced heartache, and learned a great deal about ourselves. I think that’s one of the gifts of finding love later in life—you stop expecting perfection and start appreciating one another for who you really are. 

Today our relationship is built less on impressing one another and more on accepting each other. We don’t spend our energy trying to change each other. We genuinely enjoy different things, and neither of us feels threatened by that. Dick loves the business side of our boutique real estate company, Dick Enlow & Associates, and still enjoys a round of golf whenever he can. I’m usually writing, photographing, gardening, or dreaming up another creative project. We’ve learned that we don’t have to enjoy all the same things to build a wonderful life together. We simply come back together at the end of the day. There’s something wonderfully freeing about being completely yourself with another person. You stop trying to be who you think someone else wants, and you simply become more of yourself. Ironically, that’s when love becomes the easiest. If our story has taught me anything, it’s that it’s never too late for a new beginning. Life has a funny way of bringing people—and possibilities—back into our lives when the timing is right.

You are a REALTOR®, a photographer, a visual storyteller, a creator, and a grandmother of ten. How do you balance that, and which one surprises you most when you stop to think about it? 

When I stop to think about it, I don’t really see those roles as separate. They’ve simply been different expressions of who I am. Whether I’m photographing a person, walking through a home, or listening to someone’s story, I’m always looking for what makes it special. I’ve realized that what interests me most isn’t just what people see—it’s what they feel. Rooted & Radiant grew naturally from that way of seeing, and being a grandmother reminds me every day that relationships are what matter most. I’ve never been very good at putting myself into one box. Curiosity has always led me from one chapter to the next. Over the years, I’ve realized that every move, every career, every challenge, and every success prepared me for something I couldn’t have imagined. Nothing was wasted. The role that surprises me most is storyteller. I never set out to become one, but somewhere along the way I realized I’d been collecting stories my whole life. Whether I’m photographing a woman, helping a family buy or sell a home, writing about the places I’ve lived, or simply listening to someone over a cup of coffee, I’m always drawn to the story behind what first meets the eye. I think that’s what connects everything I do. I’ve always been curious about people. I love hearing where they’ve been, what they’ve learned, and what matters most to them. Whether I’m photographing someone or helping them find a home, it’s always been about the person, not just the picture or the property.

If you could sit down with a woman in her 40s who is quietly dreading getting older, what would you most want her to know?

I’d probably smile and say, “Can I tell you something? The best years of your life may still be ahead of you.” I remember wondering if my happiest years were already behind me. I know that feeling, and I also know now that it simply isn’t true. Don’t spend today’s precious years worrying about tomorrow. Every season of life has something to offer, and you’ll miss today’s gifts if you’re constantly looking backward or wondering what’s ahead. It’s hard to imagine when you’re forty, but some of the richest years of your life may still be waiting for you. The older I’ve become, the less interested I’ve been in trying to be who someone else expected me to be. I’ve found my own voice, my own style, and my own rhythm. Confidence doesn’t come from looking younger—it comes from finally feeling at home in your own skin. To me, that’s one of the greatest gifts of growing older. The truth is, I didn’t spend much time worrying about aging. I was too busy living life as it came—raising a family, changing careers, moving across the country, embracing new adventures, and working through the challenges that helped me grow. Some chapters were joyful, some were difficult, but every one of them taught me something and brought me to where I am today. So, if I could leave her with one thought, it would be this: Don’t be afraid of getting older. Be curious about what’s ahead. One day you’ll look in the mirror and realize…you rather like the woman looking back at you. 

If you could give your younger self any words of advice, what would they be? 

Oh, I have a few! 

First, I’d tell her to wear sunscreen. I learned that lesson the hard way! 

I’d also tell her that everything she does to her body today will affect her future self, so take good care of it. Your future self will thank you. 

I’d also tell her to trust herself a little sooner. I can see so many times when I doubted myself simply because I lacked experience. The truth is, we usually learn by living. We make mistakes, we adjust, and we grow wiser because of them. I still smile when I think about conversations with my mother. She would say, “Kelli, why don’t you listen to me and not make the same mistakes I made?” And I’d answer, “Mom, I have to make my own mistakes so I can learn from them. I can’t learn from yours.” Now I think we were both right. 

If I could leave my younger self with one final thought, it would simply be this: Trust yourself a little sooner. You won’t have all the answers—and that’s okay. You’ll figure it out. 

Share your words to live by:

Stay curious. I think curiosity keeps us young at heart. Keep asking questions. Keep learning. Keep growing. Some of life’s greatest adventures begin simply because we’re willing to wonder, “What if?” Don’t let fear make your decisions. Most of the wonderful things that have happened in my life began with a little uncertainty. You don’t have to know exactly how everything will work out. You just have to be willing to take the first step. 

Be kind. Everyone is carrying something you know nothing about. If you can leave someone with a smile, a little encouragement, or feeling just a bit better than before they met you, you’ve done something worthwhile. The world could always use a little more kindness. 

Love your family well. Preserve your photographs. Tell your stories. Those memories become part of your family’s history, and one day they may be among the greatest gifts you leave the people you love. And finally…don’t put life on hold. Life has a wonderful way of surprising us when we stay open to what’s next. Keep creating. Keep loving. Keep noticing beauty.

Get Kelli’s Style

What sticks with me from Kelli’s story is her line about courage: it rarely shows up before you begin, it arrives after you’ve taken the first step. That’s not a poster-worthy statement from someone who’s had it easy. It’s earned wisdom from a woman who’s rebuilt her life more times than most of us could count, and who still chooses to greet each morning with her lipstick on and her curiosity intact. If you’re standing at the edge of some new chapter, wondering if you have what it takes, I hope Kelli’s story inspired you.

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