I Wore Black to Work for 7 Years (Funeral Home). Now Look at Me.

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For seven years, I wore black to work.

Not because I loved it. Not because it suited me. Because I worked in a funeral home — and black was the uniform of the work. Professional. Respectful. Subdued. Every day, I dressed for other people’s grief.

Seven years. That’s a lot of black. That’s a lot of quiet. That’s a lot of holding yourself together in rooms where falling apart was someone else’s right.

When I retired, I stood in front of my closet and realized almost everything in it was dark. Navy. Charcoal. Black, black, black. Clothes that were perfectly fine and completely wrong for who I was becoming.

I didn’t throw them all out on day one. But I knew, standing there, that I was done. Done dressing for somber. Done making myself small and quiet and forgettable. I was ready to take up some space.

So I started over.

What Seven Years in a Funeral Home Teaches You About Color

Working in a funeral home changes you in ways that are hard to explain to people who haven’t done it. You become very good at stillness. Very good at reading a room, at knowing when to speak and when to simply be present. You learn things about human beings that most people never have to learn.

You also learn — more viscerally than most people ever do — that life is short. Not as a bumper sticker. As a daily, undeniable fact.

I watched families say goodbye to people who had saved the good china for company that never came. Who had kept the pretty dress for a special occasion that never arrived. Who had spent decades being practical, being sensible, waiting for permission to enjoy their own lives.

I decided a long time ago that I was not going to be that story.

When I retired, the first thing I did was go buy something in the brightest, most ridiculous, most joyful color I could find. Burnt orange. A flowy top with embroidery along the hem. Nothing practical about it. Everything right about it.

Why Boho? Why This?

I didn’t sit down and decide to become a boho woman. It happened the way most true things happen — gradually, then all at once.

I bought one flowy top and it felt like breathing. Then a kimono, and suddenly every outfit I put together made sense in a way it never had before. Then I found a pair of turquoise earrings the size of small chandeliers, wore them to the grocery store, and a woman I’d never met stopped me to say I looked wonderful.

That was it. That was the moment I understood what had been missing.

Boho style — hippie style, free spirit style, whatever you want to call it — is the visual opposite of everything my work wardrobe was. It’s color instead of black. Movement instead of stillness. Joy instead of solemnity. Loud instead of quiet. It’s clothing that says I am here, I am alive, and I intend to enjoy it.

After seven years of dressing for other people’s worst days, I am now dressing for my best ones. Every single morning.

The Pieces That Started My Color Revolution (All on Amazon)

I built this wardrobe from scratch in retirement, largely through Amazon. I want to share exactly what I found — because if you have any version of a dark, practical, someone-else’s-rules wardrobe and you’re ready to blow it up, this is where I’d start.

1. The Kimono That Changed Everything

The kimono was a gateway piece. Flowy, colorful, completely unfussy. It layered over everything I already owned — even the black pieces I hadn’t let go of yet — and instantly transformed them. I have six now. I am not ashamed.

Look for florals, paisleys, embroidered details, fringe hems. Earth tones like rust, terracotta, olive, and mustard — or bold prints. My rule of thumb: anything that would have been completely wrong for a funeral home is probably exactly right for me now.

Search Boho Kimono Cardigan for Women on Amazon — gorgeous options, most under $40.

2. Statement Jewelry — The Louder the Better

I spent years wearing small, tasteful jewelry. Appropriate jewelry. Jewelry that didn’t call attention to itself in a room that required quiet.

I am now making up for every single one of those years.

• Chunky turquoise rings — wear three at once, no apologies.
• Layered beaded necklaces — multiple lengths, different textures, all at once.
• Long tassel or feather earrings — they move when I move. I love that.
• Hammered brass or copper cuffs — worn stacked up the wrist. Ancient and timeless.

Search boho statement jewelry on Amazon — you can build an entire collection for less than you’d spend on one department store piece.

3. Printed Maxi Skirts — My Uniform

The maxi skirt is everything a pencil skirt isn’t: free, comfortable, impossible to look serious in. I wear them with sandals, with sneakers, with ankle boots in cooler weather. They work with everything.

Every print I choose is something I never would have worn to work. That’s my selection criteria now, and it has not let me down once.

Search boho maxi skirts on Amazon — there are hundreds of options, and they photograph beautifully.

4. The Wide-Brimmed Hat

I never wore hats at work. Now I wear them everywhere.

A wide-brimmed hat completes a boho look the way nothing else does — it’s the punctuation mark that says yes, this was intentional, and yes, I am having the time of my life. It also keeps the sun off my face, which my skin is extremely grateful for at this point.

Search wide brim floppy sun hats on Amazon — they photograph like a dream and cost a fraction of what you’d pay at a boutique.

5. Linen in Every Color I Was Never Allowed to Wear

Sage green linen pants. A dusty rose linen shirt. Wide-leg linen trousers in warm cream.

Linen is the fabric of a life lived unhurriedly. It wrinkles and that’s fine — a little wrinkle means you’ve been out living, not sitting perfectly still in a sensible chair. And it comes in every color that used to be off-limits.

Search linen wide leg pants and boho linen tops on Amazon — breathable, beautiful, and nothing like a funeral.

6. Fringe Bags and Woven Totes

My work bag was structured, sensible, and completely forgettable. My current bags have fringe and tassels and get compliments in parking lots. This is not a coincidence. This is a choice.

If you’re looking for a place to start with bags specifically, I wrote a whole post on this: The Bags That Pull Everything Together (Without Trying Too Hard) — it has everything from everyday totes to the crossbody I bring everywhere.

Search fringe crossbody bags and woven totes on Amazon — reasonably priced and endlessly versatile.

Dress Like You Know Life Is Short — Because You Do

Working in a funeral home was one of the most meaningful things I’ve ever done. I am proud of those seven years. I am grateful for what they taught me.

But the greatest lesson wasn’t about death. It was about life. About the people who waited too long to wear the color they loved. To take the trip. To buy the ridiculous earrings. To dress like the version of themselves they always meant to become.

I am not waiting anymore.

If you’re just getting started with boho style — or you’re deep in it and always looking for more — I’ve written a few more posts you might love: Boho Style After 60: Easy Everyday Outfits, Over 60 And Being A Hippie, and The Bags That Pull Everything Together (Without Trying Too Hard).

Is there a chapter of your life that shaped how you dress now? I’d love to hear your story — tell me in the comments.