I gave up sleeveless tops in my fifties. This is the first blouse that made me stop missing them.

I am sixty years old, and for the last ten summers I have worn a cardigan to everything.

Not because I was cold. Tauranga in February is the opposite of cold. I wore it because somewhere in my fifties I stopped liking my arms, and a cardigan was the easiest way to stop thinking about them. Bowls on Tuesday, the supermarket, a barbecue at my sister's. Cardigan over the arm, cardigan on, cardigan off, cardigan on again when the sun moved.

I want to be fair to Graham here. In ten years he has never once said anything about my arms. It was only ever me. But I do suspect a good many of you reading this know exactly the feeling I mean.

A few weeks ago my friend Jan turned up to bowls in a pale blouse I had never seen on her. Loose, cotton, with an open lace pattern running down the sleeves. I asked about it before she had even put her bag down.

It was the Una, from Sofia Wellington. The same shop I have ordered from a few times now, and I will admit I had scrolled straight past it more than once, because I assumed anything with lace on the sleeves would be hot, scratchy and fussy.

That was the whole point for me. It covers my arms, and I can still feel a breeze.

I ordered the white that evening, and wore it for the first time to Graham's sixty-fifth birthday lunch at a café at Mount Maunganui. Twenty-odd people, a long table, and a very warm afternoon.

Halfway through the main course my daughter Claire leaned across and said, "Mum, you haven't touched your cardigan once."

I had not noticed. That is the part that stays with me. I had not been thinking about my arms for two hours straight, and I had not been too warm either. It is a small thing to write down, but for me it was the first summer lunch in ten years where I simply ate my food and enjoyed the day.

1. The sleeves do the job. Covered, but light. The lace panels let the air through, so I am not trading comfort for coverage.

2. The cut skims and never clings. It sits loose over the body and drapes down over the hips, so it works with jeans or with a skirt, and I never feel like I am tugging it into place.

3. It looks chosen, not thrown on. The tie, the tassel, the lace. People assume you made an effort, and all I did was put it on.

It washes beautifully, dries overnight and does not need the iron. I ordered the yellow the next week, which Claire picked out for me, and the black has been to two dinners already.

I am not a woman who spends big on a blouse I might not wear, so before I ordered I did what Graham calls my "supermarket maths" and went looking for something similar at other shops. Here is what I found for a lace blouse at two of the online shops I know:

•  Tussah lace shirt (The Iconic), about $142
•  State of Play blouse (Farmers), $119.99
•  Una by Sofia Wellington, $79.95

If we were sitting on my deck with a cup of tea and you asked me whether you should order one, this is what I would say.

I would tell you that women our age have been quietly taught that covering your arms means being hot. The Una is the first blouse I have owned that proves otherwise. It is covered, it is pretty, and the air moves straight through it. You feel the difference the moment it goes on.

I would tell you the white is the one I reach for most, the yellow is the one Claire says suits me best, and the black is the one I bought for dinners. I would tell you to buy two. The stack discount takes care of the second one, and you will end up wearing both anyway.

I would tell you that at $79.95 I would not wait around to see how long that lasts.

And if you have been carrying a cardigan through summer, longer than you would care to admit, so that nobody looks at your arms, please do not wait.

While the sizes are still in stock.