I like old things. I like imperfect things. I like when you can see the marks time, experience, struggle, exquisite joy, and exquisite sorrow have left. There is nothing wrong with wearing these experiences, covering them up less and less--even for a party, a date, the office, a wedding, a wake, a birth, a trip to the store/library/market.
It's as exhausting to be who you aren't as it is to broadcast actively who you are. You needn't do either. Just walk in your grace, tattered or patched, immaculate or tousled--whatever gives your heart space, your feet balance, and your eyes clear sight.