I have a problem with themed sweaters. That probably makes me sound like a curmudgeon to some people, especially this time of year. I think those little sweaters decorated with teddy bears and elves with candy canes are very sweet when worn by little children. And that’s where they belong.

On a mature adult they make me nervous. My friends and I sometimes do a fashion disaster alert over the holidays, looking for grown-ups in reindeer sweatshirts, Santa sweaters and jingle bell earrings. You can find them even in San Francisco, a city that takes pride in being fashionably astute and where even the dogs don’t go in for frivolous dressing.

Cute might have gotten you through your first few decades but cute doesn’t age well.

I know we’re just being wicked and they’re just having fun getting into the spirit but adults in kid clothes put themselves at great risk of looking silly. And worse, of being called cute.

This is a concern that goes way beyond holiday dressing. Cute might have gotten you through your first few decades but cute doesn’t age well. After a while it brings only unwelcome attention. When an older person calls a younger person “cute,” it is a compliment. When a younger person calls an older person “cute,” it is condescending. The same with referring to a person of noteworthy vintage as “adorable” or “just darling.” Pretty soon they’ll be patting you on the head and asking, “How are we today?”

This matter of how to dress after a certain age so as not to create a negative image is a favorite subject of mine. I started making a list of fashion warnings when writing about women over age 50. No one is deliberately going for the image of “instant old lady.” Department stores do not have special sections marked “matronly and dowdy.” But mistakes are made.

I started the list out with “friends don’t let friends wear knee-highs.” And added such casualties as cruise-style polyester pantsuits, weak pastels, long denim skirts and matching sweatshirts and sweatpants. I pointed out that women of my generation, blessed with jeans that know how to flatter a mature bottom, dress younger than our mothers and grandmothers. As one over-50 friend colorfully put it, “If we dressed today like some of our mothers did when they were our age we’d look like drag queens.”

Now that I’ve quit my regular day job and joined the ranks of the so-called retired, I’ve expanded my focus on what to wear when you’re no longer required to pull on pantyhose and some serious tailored outfit every morning. Do we now simply approach each day of the week as “Casual Friday?”

My friend Lee in Ohio, who nixes caftans and sensible lace up shoes, counseled, “If someone knows you’re retired by what you’re wearing, you’re wearing the wrong stuff.”

We may no longer have someone else’s dress code to adhere to but people are watching. You don’t want the UPS guy catching you in that old pink bathrobe with the orange juice stains and think all you do is mope around and watch TV.

My artist pal Marylu continues to wears short skirts and buys her glittery T-shirts in the teen section of Macy’s. She vows to forever “dress in an age inappropriate manner.” That’s one way to go. Eccentric, arty and individual certainly beats matronly.

Or go for the shock and awe approach, like the wonderful late Jeanne Claude, the artist wife of Christo, whose startling hair varied from pumpkin to pomegranate and who didn’t look at all retiring. And who no one would have ever dared call cute.