“WHEN WE’RE OLDER”

GEN Z & THE ART OF POSTPONING LIFE

Today I heard something that wasn’t new to me, but it made me realise one of the habits I’m guilty of having:

“When we’re older.” Or its synonym: “When I have enough money.”

My friend and I were speaking about dressing up for work. Her office leans more casual to smart casual, while mine leans more smart casual to office attire. We spoke about how we both try to make the effort to dress up — her, to feel good about herself. Me, to be respected, give off a dependable vibe, and be taken seriously.

I appreciated her thoughts on how looking good makes you feel good. We both admitted we struggle sometimes to dress up because we search for comfort in our usual everyday clothes. You could call it our “uniform.”

We both expressed that in times of stress, we prefer to “not think” and just reach for what is visually comfortable to our minds. Not that the clothes are necessarily more comfortable physically, but the thought of putting on a nicer pair of pants, a blouse, dangling earrings, and carrying a handbag that isn’t just a tote bag exhausts us.

She cited that we can do that “when we’re older.” And I realised how often I say that, how often my Gen Z peers say that. Not just about clothes. About life.

When we’re older.
When we make more money.
When things calm down.
When life stabilises.
When we finally become the version of ourselves we imagine.

I admitted that I’ve been trying to fight that battle recently (both in life movement and in dressing up) — purposefully reorganising my wardrobe so I reach for lesser-used items. I displayed my handbags in a clear case in my room so I could pick one that suits my outfit every other day. I put my sunglasses there too, along with the ten different pouches I found in my closet that I collected because they looked cute but hardly ever used.

Doing this made me realise I am actually highly fortunate and relatively “well off.”

This came as a surprise because all my friends speak often about wanting to travel but not being able to afford it right now, wanting to move overseas and start a brand-new life but not being able to make the costs work, wanting to buy luxury items but not even being able to afford a keychain from those brands.

We built what I’m calling “alternate dimension copies.” Not future us — alternate dimension copies. And I think that’s a very Gen Z thing.

I don’t think our generation imagines the future in a straight line anymore. We imagine alternate timelines. Different cities. Different aesthetics. Different careers. Different personalities. Entire parallel selves living lives we emotionally visit through Pinterest boards, TikToks, saved Instagram posts, and late-night conversations with friends.

Our conversations often “build the world” of these “copies.” What they like to do, who they associate with, who they date, where they travel, what they buy. They go out to dinner when they like. They travel when they like. They buy what they want to buy.

Sounds nice. Sounds like what we’ve always been told to achieve — let’s call it financial freedom. To have that f-you bag of money that lets you leave your job tomorrow.

But I started thinking about what it takes to get there. Then I started thinking, wait, what is it I’m actually running after?

After some deep thought, it sounded like I wanted choice. After even deeper thought, I realised I already do have many choices, the ability to choose, and so, so, so much freedom within that.

And then I realised something else: I don’t think the fantasy was ever really about luxury. It was about ease.

About moving through life without constant calculation. Without mentally subtracting every purchase from next month’s rent, savings, emergencies, or responsibilities. Without constantly thinking ahead before allowing yourself to enjoy the present.

I realised I wasn’t avoiding dressing up because I was too lazy to pick an outfit. I was avoiding the emotional energy required to become a version of myself outside my “survival uniform.” But what kept me from seeing any of this?

This might be a controversial thought: friends who are in the same boat as you — and sometimes even the same age — can be bad for you.

That’s super vague and broad, I know, and I don’t 100% believe that’s a lifestyle people should avoid altogether. But what I am saying is that I’ve benefited tremendously from having friends who are older than me and in different stages of their lives. They are often colleagues and bosses because I’m usually the youngest person on the teams I’m in.

They bring me so much wisdom, calmness, and clarity. It’s like having your own magic crystal ball that can see into the future because, believe them when they say it, they’ve been there and done that.

I think people underestimate how much their environment shapes the ceiling of what they believe is possible. Despair is contagious, but so is calmness. So is ambition. So is emotional regulation. So is perspective.

Older friends gave me something my peers often couldn’t yet: perspective after survival. They had already lived through heartbreak, career confusion, financial instability, bad bosses, identity crises, loneliness, and reinvention. They knew which problems were temporary because they had already survived them once before.

Sometimes you get the occasional disagreement due to generational differences. But I wouldn’t trade that for the amount of growth mindset they’ve given me, the kindness they’ve shown me is possible, and the heights they’ve tested and can now pass onto you. (Added brownie points if they are women because, in my experience, they have so much more wisdom to offer.)

I’ve observed other groups of friends or colleagues who only have close access to people around their same age, and all I hear is despair, defeat, anger, and hopelessness. They are overworked, underpaid, not given growth opportunities, and ruled by “legacy” bosses with old mindsets.

I do question whether I’m looking down at them from my ivory tower. And honestly, in some ways, yes, I am.

I have a job that is relatively healthy in nature. I make around 30% more than peers my age. The workload is manageable. We may not always be suffering from understaffing, but I do know I’m treated well and given opportunities because of how hard I work. I also try to think critically about peers my age and their situations — they didn’t get the mentorship I got, or the unusual head start I got from working while studying, taking on (and being offered) big projects early, and being exposed to responsibilities beyond my years.

Nonetheless, I would never trade my friends my age for f-ing anything.

They taught me love. Kindness. They cheered me on when I didn’t believe in myself. They soothed me when hurt came. Maybe that’s why friendships matter so much in your twenties. Everyone is trying to survive becoming someone while grieving the versions of life they thought they would already have by now.

Older friends grow you. Mentor you.

But friends your age? There’s just nothing like being with people in the same boat as you while you both try to figure out how to become someone at all.